#it’s still just a bunch of meat n bones n blood at the end of the day

[jupiterbxbyx]

this is from a while ago but i just realized i never actually posted it here so enjoy !

this was my first attempt at this style of art so pls be nice, constructive criticism is very welcome tho :) i’m surprisingly happy with the result (i say surprisingly bc i am a very critical person of my own work LMAOOOO)

ALSO DONT MIND ALL THE TAGS HAHA I WAS JUST RAMBLING

[idunnoanymore7]

Freezer

Description: If you get locked in the walk-in freezer with your hot boss, you need to warm up somehow.

Content: carmy x reader (no use of y/n), injury(cut finger) and mention of blood, sort of enemies to lovers, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, use of pet names

Author’s Note: I need him IN MY BONES. i wrote this before watching the ep when this happens LOL. also i love feedback if you want to leave it! <3

——————————————————

It started as a normal day of work-as in Carmy was yelling, Richie was an asshole, and Sydney was solving everything.

It ended up being an intense day for an unofficial kitchen assistant. There was a large rush of customers at lunch, leaving Carmy’s veins to protrude as he yelled at everyone to make more food. 

“50 more beef, 20 veggie, 16 everything chefs!”

“Heard, chef!” The kitchen chorused back. 

He called your name.

“Yes, chef?” 

“I need the two slabs of beef left in the fridge, and then you need to go drive and get more.”

“Heard, chef,” you say, writing the instructions down quickly on your notepad.

Carmy was already gone, at his station picking up the pound of beef. You stared as his bicep curved out, his hand flexed and gripped the bag. You were interrupted by-

“Chef! I need those tomatoes!” Sydney said. “They have to be in the pot in 5!”

Fuck-the tomatoes you were chopping for Sydney’s sauce before this meeting started. 

“Yes chef!” 

“And we’re talking about whatever that was later!” she said. You tense as you realize she saw you gawking.

“Syyyyd!” You whine. She grins.

“Get to work!” Carmy hollers from around a corner, and you dash back to the sink.

You had finished half of the ten tomatoes sydney requested. You picked up the knife and got to work on the 6th of the bunch.

You were mindlessly chopping for maybe a minute before someone slammed into your back, knocking you forward and causing you to slice your finger.

“Fuck!” you gasped. You whirled around to see who it was. “Say behind!”

Of course. Richie. He looked down at you  and his lip curled. 

“Not my fault! Pay more attention next time.”

He stalked off, rolling his eyes. 

Whatever, you didn’t have time for this. Luckily no blood got on the tomatoes, so you wrapped the cut in paper towel and got back to work careful to keep that finger away from the food. You slid the cut up food into a bowl and carried it to Sydney, placing it next to her.

“Thanks, chef,” she said, checking the tomatoes.

“Of course, chef.”

“Whoa, you good?” she said, noticing your finger. 

“Yeah, I’ll fix it after I finish,” you said.

“Okay..” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Be careful.”

“I will, chef!” You say, already heading to the freezer. “Corner!”

You reached the freezer and pulled open the door to slip inside, looking for the beef Carmy had asked for.

“Ah!” You jumped, shoulder blade hitting the metal shelf. Carmy startled from the racks he was leaning on. 

“What the fuck?” He leaned on the door to steady himself; pushing it closed. 

“Fuck-sorry chef,” You said quickly. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Clearly,” he groaned, tipping his head back against the shelf. You could feel the shame burning up your chest and sternum. 

“Just get your stuff and go, okay?” 

You nodded and leaned over, right hand on the metal coils as you looked for the beef on the bottom shelf.

“It’s right there,” he said angrily, gesturing to the slab. Great day so far. You cut yourself and now your workplace crush was yelling at you. Like you could focus when he was right there. You could feel his body heat.

You gripped the plastic and lifted the meat into the crook of your left arm. Hefting it up, you turned and reached for the door handle, avoiding eye contact with Carmy. 

You pulled the handle. Nothing happened. What?

You tried again. Still nothing more than a slight jiggle, and the door didn’t budge. 

“What the fuck?” You mumbled.

“Let me try,” he said, moving into your space. His wide shoulders brushed against you, reminding you of all that manliness and what you wanted it to do to you.

You stepped back, the weight of the beef (and your attraction to Carmy) already starting to burn. You switched arms as he yanked hard on the handle, bicep and shoulder muscles flexing. He added his other hand and pulled down and back. Nothing.

This could not be happening. You can’t be stuck in here with Carmy. He’ll eat you alive, and not in the way you wanted. You couldn’t stand the thought of the cause of that twist in your gut hating you.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the door. “Richie! Syd!”

You both knew the door was metal, several inches thick. They’d have to be close to hear him. 

You gasped and set the beef back so you could curl your arms around yourself. Carmy whirled around.

“You fucking locked us in here!” he said, pointing at you.

“Me?!” You yelled back. “It’s not my fault the door jammed!”

“Yes it is!” he fired back. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t come in here!”

“I was getting the fucking beef you asked me for!” You screamed back.

He was about to respond when you heard muffled voices outside. 

“Syd!” You called out.

“Cousin!” He yelled at the same time.

“What’re you guys doing in there?” you hear Sydney say through the door. 

“The fucking door won’t open!” Carmy exclaimed. “Get us out!”

The handle shook, then shook more violently.

“I think it’s jammed!” came Richie’s yell.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble.

Carmy looks at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back. “So can you fix it?”

“Um, not sure,” came his cousin’s reply. “I think we need to get Fak…”

“Fuck!” Carmy exclaimed louder, pushing his tattooed hands through his hair. “It’s lunch rush! I cant be stuck in here!”

“I’d also like to be outside!” You add.

“It’s okay chef,” Sydney’s voice responds. “I’ll keep us on task while Richie works to get you out. We won’t fall behind.”

“I got this, cousin!” Richie says.

Carmy sighs and leans his head against the freezer door, resting his hands on it.

“Good, chef. You’ll have a limited menu since our meat is in here.”

“On it Chef. We were due for a shipment anyway.”

“Thank you chef. An-“

Sydney cuts him off saying your name. “Just breathe, okay? We’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Syd,” you reply, feeling grateful for her ability to take charge.

“Oh! And I’ll slip a bandage under the door!”

“Ahhh thank you,” You respond with relief, looking down at the paper towel that was almost completely red.

That caught Carmy’s attention. His head whipped around to look at you as her footsteps pattered away.

“You good?”

You looked at him in surprise. “Yeah…just cut my finger.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You have to be careful. We can’t be losing manpower.”

You glared. “Richie slammed into me. My carefulness didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Here you go,” Syd said as she slid the bandaid under the door. “Fak will be here in an hour or so.”

“What?” you exclaim at the same time.

“Apparently he likes to go to a specific movie theater an hour away. I don’t fucking know.” 

You groan along with Carmy.

You slid down to sit on the cement floor and set about trying to open the bandage, but hissed when it slid across your cut. 

Carmy sighed. “Let me help you with that.”

“I got it, thanks. Isn’t it because I wasn’t careful enough, anyway?” You say.

“You can’t blame me for trying to keep the restaurant running.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Just let me do it.”

Carmy lowered himself to the floor, leaning back on his haunches. The image of this larger-than-life man on his knees for you made you slow, handing over the bandage.

He took it and began to unwrap. 

“I know you’re careful,” he says into his hands.

“Huh?” you ask in surprise.

He looks up at you, those beautiful blue eyes upping your heart rate. “I know you’re careful. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Oh fuck. New reason why you couldn’t stay in here. You were gonna fall in love with him.

The praise makes you smile, and his face seems to lighten at that. “Thanks,” you say. “I assume it helps my case that Richie has a reputation for being not careful.”

He huffs a smile. “Maybe a bit.” He reaches his hand out gently. Seeing the veins and tattoos on the backs of his hands were not helping your heartbeat. Your nerves shake as he takes your hand and undoes the paper towel with the other. 

His face hardens and you look to see why. The gash was deeper than you realized, but nothing new to kitchen staff.

“Fuckin’ Richie,” Carmy grumbles angrily.

“It’s fine,” you say reassuringly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He makes eye contact again. “You shouldn’t have to. Not in my kitchen.”

Your lips part in surprise, and you think you catch him looking at them a beat too long before returning to your hand. The fact that such talented, skilled hands were working on your little cut was wild to you. 

A curl fell in his face, and you had to resist the urge to push it back for him. He was finishing up the bandage, and your mind screamed keep him over here.

“How are we gonna keep from freezing to death in here?” You ask, half joking. 

He moves back to lean against the shelves on the opposite wall, legs crossed at the ankle. You immediately feel the absence of his hands on you. 

He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

“All that means is you won’t notice when the hypothermia kicks in.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “That cannot be true.”

“Yeah, I have no idea.” You respond, stretching your legs out so they’re parallel to his.

He chuckles, louder than you thought he would. 

“How is the job so far?” He asks.

“Good,” you say. “Better than a lot of kitchens. Except when I have to sit in a freezer with my boss.” You nudge his knee with yours. 

“C’mon, is he really that bad?” Carmy teases.

You think for a minute. “No, honestly. He’s pretty fantastic at everything he does. In appearance, too. I don’t know how he keeps those white shirts so clean.”

“I meant to be in a freezer with,” Carmy responds. There’s a shameful beat.

“I-“

“I’m just messing with you,” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, still embarrassed for your lovey rant.

“I look fantastic, huh?” 

You squirm. “I didn’t mean it like that-“

“How did you mean it then? Don’t hurt my feelings.”

“Can they be hurt?” You ponder. “I’m sure many women have told you similarly.”

He shakes his head. “That’s probably the only personal compliment I’ve gotten in years. They’ve all been about my cooking.” His face is a bit pink now.

You rub your arms, the goosebumps a combination of the freezer and Carmy’s gaze on you. Speaking of, his eyes follow the movement of your arms and his jaw ticks.

“That’s almost unbelievable to me,” You begin. “That no one tells you you look good.”

“Do people tell you that?” He asks.

“Sometimes, I suppose,” You say. “When I look nicer than this.” You gesture down at yourself.

“You still look nice,” He says gravelly, crossing his arms over his chest. You have to tear your eyes away from his forearms to respond. 

“Thanks, so do you,” You say lightly, hoping it’s not obvious how much you mean it.

You can tell from his eyes he sees through you, though. 

“I know you think so,” He says lowly.

“Oh yeah?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah,” he almost groans. “The way you look at me when I cook-it’s so distracting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper. 

“Yes you do,” he says, eyes hard. “But you’re so focused, and careful, that you never see when I’m looking the same way at you.”

You swallow hard. There was no way this was real. Carmy being into you? Impossible.

“Yeah, right,” You respond.

His jaw ticks. “What, you don’t think that’s true?”

“Carmy, look at you. Then look at me. Of course I don’t think that’s true.” You shake.

He pushes his hands through his curls again. His shirt rises up an inch when he does, and you can’t help but glance at the bit of happy trail-

“See,” He groans. “I cant think straight around you. Especially when you look at me like that. Like I’m worth your attention.”

“Of course you are, Chef,” you say, looking into his eyes as your voice went lower. 

The name seemed to do him in. His frazzled look shifted to feral, eyes bright and hair in every direction. 

“You never answered my question,” You said lowly.

“What question?”

“How are we gonna stay warm in here?” You say, tone suggesting there was more to what you were saying. “Because I can think of a few ideas…”

“Oh, so can I,” He said gravelly, dragging his eyes down your body as you rose up on your knees. “All of them require you getting over here.” he said.

Didn’t have to tell you twice. He uncrossed his legs, his perfect thighs framing a seat for you. Before you could sit, his large hands crept onto your back, grasping you as he put his face onto your belly.

“Is this okay?” He asked, tone serious.

“Yes, yes,” you almost whine, hands reaching the back of his head. 

When you run your fingers through your hair like you’d been dreaming about, he groans.

This giant, muscled man groans into your stomach. You feel like jelly. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

You had heard about his nonexistent dating history. But you didn’t care. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” You say, looking down at him.

“No,” he groans, looking up at you, the angle of his eyes and his hands gripping you making you even wetter. “I want.”

You gasp and that reaction seems to spur him on. He slides his hands down your thighs and pulls you into his lap.

You groan quietly as you feel his cock through his pants, already hardening just from you being close. You couldn’t believe it. 

“You feel that? What you do to me?” He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You think it’s true now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you gasp. “Wanna feel what you do to me?”

He groans in your ear. “Oh, we’ll get there.”

Then, he kisses you. And not a polite one. He kisses you like you’re a new recipe he made: new and delicious and ready to be devoured whole.

You moan and his grip on your shirt tightens like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. You tug on his hair and your hips involuntarily buck against him. 

He pulls back and moves his mouth to your neck. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I could-“ His teeth scrape your neck. “I could say the same thing about you.”

His hands grasp your face and kiss you again, holding you and taking you. 

You reach your hands for the hem of his shirt, needing something to ground you with the heat running through your body. As soon as you reach your hands underneath his shirt and scrape your nails up, he seems to go haywire.

His hands grip anywhere they can reach, your back, your hips, your shoulders, your hair. Not quite where you want him.

You pull back and he looks worried. But that look dissipates when you reach for the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“Oh…pretty girl…” he mumbles, hands sliding up from your hips and across your stomach. 

You smile and reach your arms to the back of your bra.

“You want this off too?” You ask.

“Yes, oh god, please-“

Your thighs try to squeeze together from his desperation, but his hips are in the way and he notices. 

“You like that baby? You like when I beg?” 

You whimper. Oh god. And he heard it.

“I can do that, pretty girl, I can beg,” He says, his blue eyes in yours.

“Fuck, Carmy-“ You groan.

His hands move up, sliding seductively up your skin. “Can I take it off baby? Want it to be me that gets to undress you.”

“Yeah, you can,” You nod, unable to form sentences. He was gonna kill you.

He undoes the clasp on the first try, and his eyes get wider as the bra falls away. Your nipples turn into points from the cold freezer.

“Ohhh pretty girl, look at these,” he says in fascination, running his thumbs over your peaks.

The rough skin against you makes you moan, head falling back as he grasps your tits in his hands.

“So, so pretty,” he says, and then he scrapes his teeth against them. You gasp, as he continues to suck and bite at your breasts. “Wanna hold ‘em every day-“

“Fuck-so glad you like them Carmy,” you groan. “Please, please can you take this off?”

You grasp at his shirt. “Of course, baby,” he says, hair even crazier than normal from your tugging. He helps you lift it up and over his head.

“Oh, god,” you say, eyes widening as you finally see him in his full glory. Seeing his defined biceps next to his pecs and happy trail might knock you out cold. “Oh Carmy you are fantastic.”

That makes him laugh, and you grab his neck to kiss him again, and he moans into your mouth. Your other hand runs down his chest, dragging along the waistband. His hands grasped your boobs, and it felt better than you thought it would.

His desperation and muscle was making you soaked. You needed him to touch you. 

“Carm-“ You squirm in his lap, looking for friction. 

“I know, baby, I got you,” he says. “C’mere.” 

He holds you into him with one arm, and you bite at his shoulder as he looks for the shirts on the hard ground, making a makeshift pillow for you. 

He lays you back, and you watch him as he slowly kisses and nicks his way down your body, getting more teethy and possessive as he gets lower.

He reaches the waistband of your pants, and looks up at you for assurance. You look at the door nervously, and he catches it.

“I’m not gonna let anyone see you,” He says. “This is for me,” he grabs your ass. “Understand?”

You nod desperately and wiggle your hips.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Heard, chef,” you tease, and he tsks at you, smirking.

He pulls your pants down and over your ankles, adjusting himself to breathe over your thighs.

You inhale sharply as the cold hits your legs, goosebumps forming. Carmy’s hands soothe you, running up your thighs slowly.

He rubs his thumb over the wet spot on your underwear and looks up at you. “All this for me?”

“Told you you’d feel what you do to me.” you say.

“Ugh, pretty girl, you’re gonna kill me.” he groans into your thigh, biting down and you whimper. 

“Please, Carm, don’t tease-“

He pulls your underwear down in one swift motion, looking at you for reassurance before pulling your thighs over his shoulders and diving into his meal.

You can’t help your load moan as he licks a stripe all the way up your folds, circling your clit when he gets there. 

Your hands twist into his hair but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hands clamp harder into your thighs as your taste spurs him on.

“Fuck,” His nose- that perfect nose- rubs your clit over and over and you almost squeal just from the visual: his tattooed hands on your thighs, his curls in your fingers, his blue eyes looking straight into yours.

He pushes his tongue into you and your hips buck as you moan when he curls it up. The absence of it inside you makes you whimper, until his middle finger enters you and you really do squeal.

“Carmy- ah-“

“Yeah, baby, lemme hear you.”

He curls his finger and hits that spongey spot inside you, making your hips buck again. His eyes look scoldingly at you before he removes his right hand and presses down on your lower stomach. 

“Shit-!” Your head lolls back. “That’s a nice trick, Chef-“ You can feel him smirk.

The pressure makes the finger pumping inside you pleasing in a whole new way. Still sucking on your clit, Carmy curls another finger inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-“

“I got you, c’mon, come for me, wanna see you come all over my fingers,” Carmy says desperately, and you listen, snapping loose and releasing all over him. 

Your boss made you cum. Hard. Did you need to call HR? 

Nope. All you needed was to see him rising back over you, kissing up your stomach and over your breasts. 

His mouth was covered in your wet, and you grabbed his jaw hard to kiss him, your tongue in his mouth to taste yourself on him.

“Fantastic?” He asks.

“Fantastic.” you respond, meaning it. “Let’s hope Fak gets stuck in traffic,” you whisper into his lips. 

“Why?” he responds, teasing. You slide your hand down his chest and over his ass.

“Because I want you inside me,” you say. He moans and kisses you again, hard, whilst reaching for the fly on his jeans. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” he smiles into your lips. “Hands, chef, hands.”

You giggle and go to help him pull his pants down his legs and over his feet, kissing his jaw. You run your fingers over the happy trail you had been ogling, and grasp his cock over his boxers. He grunts in your ear, and takes your hand away. 

“Gonna come too fast,” he says, holding your hand above your head and kissing you.  “You make me crazy.”

“Same here, Carm.” You say, nipping at his neck. Your other hand teases at the waistline of his boxers.

He looks into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes, Carmy, fuck, please.”

“Good.” He says, tugging his boxers down and you finally get to see him in all his glory. God, you didn’t think he could get more beautiful. Seeing him entirely naked sent another wave of wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, Carmy,” you mumble. He slid his hands up the outside of your thighs, keeping his eyes locked on yours. 

“All for you, baby,” his hand goes to his cock, and as the head slides inside you your head lolls back and groan.

“Hey, look at me.” You look back up to stare into his icy eyes. “Don’t stop.” He says.

He slides further into you and your jaw hangs open, trying so hard to keep eye contact with him.

You both groan as he bottoms out, every vein and ridge of him inside of you. Your pussy is still sensitive from the previous mind-blowing orgasm, and-

“God, pretty girl, you feel so good,” he groans in your ear. “Taking me so well.”

You pulse at the praise, and he feels it. You feel his smirk on your jaw. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, your nails find purchase on his back.

He rolls into you, and it has your thighs squeezing around his hips immediately. 

“Shit, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, Carmy, feels so good,” you moan as he starts his rhythm, every ridge of his cock dragging inside your walls. The cold of the freezer vanishing against the hotness of your bodies.

His forearm is on the floor next your head, his other hand grasping your ass as he pummels into you. 

Your back scrapes on the floor, to match the marks you’re making on Carmy’s back. 

“Look so good with me inside you,” he grunts and you choke. His hand on your ass moves between your thighs and he circles your clit.

“Fuck- too much,” you gasp, clit sensitive. 

“You can take it.”

“Ah- Car- I’m gonna-“

“Me too, pretty girl, cmon-“ The nickname gets you every time, and you gush over him, squeezing around his cock.

He makes a choked sound and falls over the ledge after you, collapsing on top of your chest. 

You both breathe heavily, you rubbing up and down his back.

“That might have been more fantastic than your cooking,” You smile to the ceiling. He chuckles into your neck.

“Heard, chef.”

You were both dressed by the time Fak finally arrived, half an hour late complaining about unmissable after-credit scenes. 

Parting, you had gained a cell phone number and an address from Carmy, a kiss goodbye, and a “see you later” that promised many more. 

[lilflowerpot]

Do we get to know the meanings of the months. Would very much like to know what spiritual or religious associations you've come up with❤️❤️

Alrighty! Let’s start by rehashing the relevant units of time: one decaphoeb (year) is made up of ten phoebs (months), which are themselves comprised of eight movements (weeks), each with five quintants (days)—so that's a nice clean 400 quintants per decaphoeb—and I’ll also drop in Daibazaal's decaphoebal cycle as illustrated in my fertility post, because without a visual aid this is just going to be me throwing around a bunch of made-up words like a madwoman.

((oh, and I’d recommended reading my post on galra religions if you want some more in-depth information on the names I’m going to drop below, but I’ll still explain the broad strokes well enough that lack of familiarity with it shouldn't hinder you))

[[ spring: eyiintak || summer: ury'cht / li'xann / puinyk / khaiivrep't / hiikyl || autumn: a'vael || winter: nydaan / sa'rhyan / sa'meih ]]

So decaphoebs on Daibazaal actually began with the last phoeb of winter, Sa'meih, and ended on the last quintant of Sa'rhyan, which was not-at-all-coincidentally the winter solstice... and if you've noticed the similarity in those two names, that's no coincidence either, but let's try to go about this in an orderly fashion, shall we?

Sa'meih [[ s-ar-meh-ih ]] - as the first phoeb of the cycle, symbolic of new beginnings, Sa'meih honours the two celestial creators: Sa, the Divine Mother—she who is both architect and devourer, everything and nothing, the beginning and end to all things—and the Divine Twin L’lameih, believed by the Diij to be the creator of our universe, and by the Drui to be the progenitor of those blessed few who can wield quintessence (the sa naacht).

Eyiintak [[ ee-yin-tah-k ]] - named for Eyii, the great celestial beast who—according to the Eyikh—swims through the endless void and leaves in their wake waves crested in a foam of stardust, which spill out across space and time to become the universe we now call home. Just as the tsaii hunt Eyii across the endless expanse of eternity, so too do followers of the Eiyyka’an Faith perform the fertility festival known as the Divine Hunt—a decaphoebal reenactment of Eyii’s pursual—in the belief that a successful display will facilitate fertility twofold: first by summoning the bountiful monsoon season that sustained Daibazaal’s lush jungles, and second by blessing the the galra estrous period (with which this phoeb coincides) to produce numerous healthy offspring.

Ury’cht [[ oo-r-ee-kh-t ]] - Uryan was a star visible in Daibazaal’s night sky that shone a brilliant gold, and was believed by the desert tribes to be the eye of Sa herself, while the suffix -cht stems from the word Naacht (see. li naacht), and denotes a deep-rooted devotion. This phoeb was so-named because the monsoons that raged throughout would obscure the skies with such endless severity that the galra believed themselves to be beyond Sa’s watchful gaze and therefore Her protection, leaving them at the mercy of the untamed world until the rains passed and she could find them once more.

Li’xann [[ lee-z-ah-n ]]  - an amalgamation of the name Xann—the Eiyyka’an tsai of unchecked bloodlust—and “li” meaning “blood”. By this phoeb the monsoons have come to an end, though the last remnants of them could whip up sandstorms so thick and fierce that they could strip the meat from the bones of lesser creatures than the galra. Here is where the true summer heat begins to set in.

Puinyk [[ p-uh-win-ee-kh ]] - named for Puiyn of the Aalk, a fierce warrior believed to have lived a thousand glorious lives and died a thousand glorious deaths, making him the first mortal being to earn the status of tsai. This phoeb ends on the summer solstice, whereupon the Jaev—in a celebration of the blessed life gifted to them by the divine patronage of the tsai, who serve and protect the living—offer appeasement in the form of galra sacrifice. It is believed that the sacrifice will immediately ascend to the status of tsai, and so hundreds fight for the honour every decaphoeb.

Khaiivrep’t [[ ka-eye-v-reh-pt ]] - an amalgamation of the name Khaiis—the Eiyyka’an tsai of glorious victory—and “vrepit” which denotes triumphant conquest. As this phoeb begins immediately after the solstice, it is believed to mark the transition from the fierce battle against the elements that is the first half of the decaphoeb (with its monsoons and sandstorms and ever-rising heat) to the more clement latter half. In the modern day it is considered a sacred month wherein blood is not shed; instead the galra people ought bask in their victories and enjoy the spoils of war.

Hiikyl [[ h-ih-k-ee-l ]] - an amalgamation of the name Hiidyl—the Eiyyka’an tsai of orphaned children—and “kyl” the ancient term for a haunting or melancholic ballad. Despite the somewhat ominous association, Hiidyl is considered a benevolent being, and so in this phoeb galra from all across Daibazaal would make offerings in their name for the protection and well-being of the community’s children: both those already living, and those soon to come.

A’vael [[ ah-v-ay-el ]] - the phoeb of Vael—the Eiyyka’an tsai of lost souls—who  is a particularly sacred figure due to being charged with keeping the reincarnation cycle of quintessence ever-flowing. Vael is said to spend this phoeb guiding newborn galra out into the living world, and those lost in childbirth back to Sa’s embrace (due to the galra having a monestrous fertility cycle, the overwhelming majority of births occur in A’vael). The autumnal equinox occurs at the exact min-point of this phoeb, and for the movement surrounding this event the emerald star Nyd—eye of L’lameih—and the golden star Uryan—eye of Sa—would align; it was believed by the Diij that when this occurred, the dead would rise again to devour the quintessence of the living in an attempt to return themselves to life, and so the Festival of Souls was hosted to appease these restless spirits.

Nydaan [[ n-ee-d-ar-n ]] - Nyd was a star visible in Daibazaal’s night sky that shone a striking emerald, and was believed by the desert tribes to be the eye of the Divine Twin L’lameih, through which she watches over all of creation. As the first phoeb of winter, as well as the first of parenthood for many galra, this phoeb was thus named in the hopes that L’lameih’s benevolent attentions would see them through the darkest time of the decaphoeb.

Sa’rhyan [[ s-ar-ree-ah-n ]] - as the final phoeb of the cycle, symbolic of endings, Sa'meih honours the two celestial devourers: Sa, the Divine Mother—she who is both architect and devourer, everything and nothing, the beginning and end to all things—and the Divine Twin Rhya’ahl, believed by the Diij to be the father of a universe that exists as a putrid shadow of our own, and by the Drui to be the progenitor of the savage yet sacred rhyahl who roamed Daibazaal’s desert plains hungering for quintessence. Immediately preceding the winter solstice—the final day of Sa’rhyan—was the Drui festival of D’raen: two full movements (ten quintants) of feasting and revelry to mark the end of one solar cycle and the beginning of the next. This bacchanal would conclude with the ritual sacrifice of the Vrokra (champion of the first quintant’s tournament) to the Rhyahl, in the hope that the tribe’s most valiant warrior would sate Rhya’ahl’s appetite for another decaphoeb.

And there you have it!

[random-imagines-blog]

Flirt {Ygritte x Female!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @starjane312​ Wordcount: 2623 Summary: The new boy at camp brings all sorts of trouble.

The new boy was staring. Ever since Ygritte had returned to the camp, bringing this puppy of a man, no, a boy, back with her, he’d been giving her the heart eyes whenever she wasn’t looking. You couldn’t blame him, Ygritte was the most amazing person that you had ever met, and you thanked the old Gods every day that you had been blessed enough to marry her. Same-gender relationships were extremely rare and frowned upon, even for the Wildlings when there was the pressure to have babies, but your father, Mance, had allowed it. So though that was allowed, this boy staring at your wife was not. You poked at the fire with your stick to push some of the wood further in towards the fire, while glaring at the boy. You retraced the story in your head - he had been found, and unfortunately saved, and then brought here. As if he belonged here. Anyone could see that he most certainly didn’t. Except for Ygritte who treated him kindly - or at least her version of kind.

“Yer barely eating,” Ygritte said, pushing a bit more of the bear meat towards you. “Whats a matter which-ya?

“Guess I’m not hungry,” You muttered, finally going from the boy’s dark eyes to Ygritte’s blue gray which rivaled the color of water. “Don’t you worry about me. You go on and eat it. You’re skin n’ bone.”

“Just cause I ain’t got blubber doesn’t mean I’m a guppy,” Ygritte said, reaching out and put a hand on your sturdy thigh. It was true, you weren’t the skinniest of the bunch, you had some meat on your bones. To the point where many of the men could be seen looking at your stomach and licking their lips when food was scarce. If your father wasn’t who he was, you probably would have been killed already. That was just the way that things sometimes went up here. You did what you had to do to survive.

“If you don’t wanna be a guppy, you better eat up then,” You said, pushing the meat right back to her and got up onto your feet. “I’m gonna go have a word with the crow.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Ygritte said, taking the meat in her gloved hand and got up to follow you. You stopped and looked over your shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t ask for an audience,” You said.

“I know tha’,” She crossed her arms, still chewing on what was in her mouth. “Tha’s exactly why I’m comin’. I’m not missin’ out on whatever talk that you’re going to give him. Remember the last person we found and rescued? I think ‘is nose is still broken.”

“He grabbed yer arse, you think I was gonna let him get away with that?”

“This one didn’t,” Ygritte said, nodding at new boy. “Besides, not like he’s got anythin�� in that head of his except for the wall. That Jon Snow, he knows nothin’.”

“So I’m gonna make sure that he knows somethin, and it’s to stop makin those goo-goo eyes at my wife,” You said, stepping closer to where the man was. He noticed you coming and seemed to tense up. Good. You stared at him for a moment, and then gave a little growl. He might have a direwolf - but you were the alpha wolf around these parts. “You gonna scar up his pretty face?” Ygritte asked, nudging you. “Like you did with the others? How many would that be now - five? Ten?”

“I los’ count about a year ago. Guess it’s my own fault then. I just had to go and fall in love with the prettiest lass this side of the Wall,” You grinned. She laughed, but gave your chest a bit of a slap in that way that she did. She was a tough and fearless woman, with a pretty face to boot. Many of the men around here wanted her, and any from outside, like Jon Snow, probably would too. Bastards, all of em.

“Ahh, you big softie, you’re like a gutted pig. All tough on the outside and steamy and warm on the inner,” Ygritte said, which was about as romantic as things tended to get around here. “You gonna go threaten him on my behalf now, wife?”

“Don’t know if I need to now that I’ve already got his attention,” You said, turning your body towards Ygritte. “I’ll just show him what’s what instead of having ta tell him.”

The furs were always something that came between you but with the heavy cold of the everlasting winter, they were something that had to be gotten used to. Still, you brushed up close enough to her to bring her soft, dainty pink lips into a kiss right there, in front of everybody. There were some whoops. Some hollers. Some of the men never got tired of seeing two women kiss, the bloody perverts. You were putting on a bit of a show but it wasn’t for anyone’s amusement. It was a warning.

You had grabby hands, always had, always would, and then went right down to that ass beneath the long fabric of her coat and gave it an audible slap. It was loud enough, sharp enough to sound like a branch breaking. Ygritte never minded when you got a bit rough. Turned her on in fact, something you knew very well. Some might call you a bit possessive, but you considered it your duty to guard the lovely lass who had stolen your heart. Even if she would blacken the eye of anyone else who would dare to call her lovely.

“I love ya,” You said, forgetting about the reason why you were doing this in front of everyone. She had her hands on both of your cheeks, feeling how warm they were, slightly squishing them so that you made a silly face in the way she always found amusing. You laughed, though the inside of your cheeks squished against your teeth.

“And I love ya, y/n Ryder,” She said in return, and pressed another kiss on those puckered lips of yours, right in front of crow-boy and everyone else.

-

The Battle at Castle Black. The name was fitting, because it was a black night for many who were involved. You had your suspicions about Snow since the beginning, though you had hoped that you were wrong. There was something fishy about this Castle Black, and so you had gone with your wife to spy on it, find out how many people were defending it. It was so strange to you, these wardens of the wall, because your father had been one of them and turned his back on it. They had made him give a pledge not to have relationships. These people - they didn’t want you to be born. To have your life.

“I’m havin’ second thoughts abou’ this,” Ygritte said, turning to you. And you had to agree. You were angry at these people, these wardens, but you also didn’t want any more of your people to have to die. It felt like there was a trap afoot. Everyone was preparing for the attack, you had your swords, and your bow at your back, that sick feeling remaining in your stomach. You thought about going to talk to the others about your instincts, but the warg snapped out of his trance at that very second. The signal had been given. It was time to move in.

It was too late to turn back now, so you ran ahead with your wife, sticking together through this. You absolutely refused to be separated. Where she went, you went. Where you went, she went. You both went towards the gate, and using your bows so you could stay a far distance, started to shoot at them. One of your arrows went right through the eye of a man at the gate. And you couldn’t say that you felt bad. They had signed up for this. They didn’t have a wife and kids that you should feel bad for. They made their bed and now they were going to damn well lay in it.

Your wife got some good shots as well, but there was no time to stop and celebrate her accuracy. The battle kept going, and would keep going until there was a victor. It was time to move in, to close the distance.

And what did you see but that stupid crow fighting alongside of his ‘brethren’ rather than the rightful side of the Wildlings. “I told you that boy could not be trusted,” You growled to Ygritte. She looked angry too. She had been taken in by him, had formed a friendship with him during the travels to the wall. Your ‘I told you so’ didn’t help matters much but you felt like it needed to be said. And now, you were determined to take him down.

“Damn traitor ain’t even worth it,” Ygritte said, spitting onto the ground at what she had seen. She took hold of your hand, gave it a squeeze, then went back to preparing her bow to fire again. You took out your sword, getting ready for blade to blade combat against these so called men. You didn’t believe that they were men at all. Your father, Tormund, your friends among the wildlings, those were men. They did what they had to do to survive.

They went down. So did some of your own people. You noticed that some of the crows in their black jackets were running, trying to hide. That alone was a sign of victory. None of your people were trying to hide. None of your people were cowards. Slash, slash, clash of blades, sparks flying from how fast and how hard they hit each other. Stab, stab, cutting through flesh, entering it, becoming a butcher of fine human meat. Groans from the injured, you put them out of their misery.

And then the moment seemed to fall silent as you turned to see that Ygritte had her bow pointed right at Jon Snow, who stood above Styr’s body. You looked at the corpse on the ground, your heart beating fast, rage flooding through your veins. You would never forgive this. You had your blade out and you pointed it towards Jon as well. But this was more so Ygritte’s revenge. Let her kill the traitor, for it was her that he had blinded. You looked about you, refusing to be distracted by the confrontation beside you. You couldn’t let yourself be blinded as well.

You heard the arrow, and your instincts took over. You pushed Ygritte out of the way and caught the arrow yourself, it lodging into your side. It barely penetrated through the thickness of your skin, you could feel that. It was almost like a bug bite. But for Ygritte, calculating by how she had been standing, it might have been fatal. You turned to the boy who fired it, and you charged, pulling the arrow out of the fur and skin, taking it out in one piece, your blood turning the stone on the end a deep red color. Jon was shouting at you to stop. That Olly was just a boy. But Ygritte silenced him with a shouting of her own.

You took hold of the boy, who seemed startled that you had stopped his attack. You held the arrow that he had shot at your wife to the soft underside of his chin. “May you live this moment forever,” You cursed, then thrust the arrow upwards, right into his skull. At that, Jon roared at you. Something about how he was only a kid.

“A killer is a killer,” You said, marching back towards him. As you did, the war kept going on. The death of one didn’t matter much in this war of thousands. But then a weapon was released - a sort of scythe that started to cut through your people. It sent ice into your heart far more effectively than the cold had. You took Ygritte’s hand and she didn’t fight you. “We must go to the meeting spot,” You told her.

“Yeah,” She said, a little shaken at how near death she had gotten, but then her fearless expression came back onto her pale features. She turned her bow towards Jon, arrow still drawn, her fingers trembling to let it go. “If ye even think of followin’ us, traitor, I’ll kill ye where ye stand. I mean it. You deserve worse than that.”

“He sure does,” You grumbled, but then heard more screams of your people. “We gotta go, now,” You said. And you tugged her along, being quite fast despite the bit of fat that you had on your body which people used to make fun of you for. But you were also quite sturdy, able to push people out of the way to get out of Castle Black and make your return to the woods where your father was waiting for you. The Haunted Forest, where you would meet again with your brethren, your family, and speak of the defenses of the crows.

-

Your father was burning. Ygritte and some of the others had to hold you back, hand clamped over your mouth as you cursed the names of Baratheon, of Stark, of Davos, of everyone that was involved in your fathers death. You could feel the heat of the flames over your own body as you were told about it. Your father was strong until the end - he did not bow. He would never kneel. For you were free folk. It was a lesson that many people needed reminding of.

It had a huge effect on you, because as Mance’s daughter, you were the one that they looked at for advice now, for guidance. But also as a woman, they didn’t completely respect the advice that you gave. That didn’t matter. They could listen to you, go along with what had been your father’s plan, or they could die here. They could get killed by the white walkers. It didn’t matter much to you anymore. You were more in this for the fight than the results, which Ygritte saw in you right away. You had that inner fire that was needed to survive in the winter wasteland.

“I’m sorry,” Ygritte said as you took a walk to try to work off this angry energy. “It’s all my fault. I shoulda listened to ya. Ya knew right from the start that he couldn’t be trusted. That he could never be one of us.”

“A lot of people trusted him, not just you,” You said, stopping to turn to her. You could see, and feel, the guilt coming off of her in waves. And the anger. That unstoppable rage that came with redheads. You’d been on the other side of it before, so seeing it now pointed towards those who deserved it - you were sure that you were going to get your revenge. Maybe not tonight, nor tomorrow, but one day. You were going to make sure that your father was not forgotten. You were never going to bend the knee. You were going to be the fire that killed the traitor. And with your wife by your side, you knew, you could do anything.

[thousandsunnywrites]

How about law meeting a girl who has the same energy as Luffy and tends to touch him in some way all the time, her favorite being ridding on his back. He has long since given up trying to get her to stop, only to find out when he teams up with the straw hats she’s Luffy’s sister by blood. The oldest of Ace Sabo and Luffy.

Law

Law x f!reader; romantic

⤷ a/n: g o l l y this ficlet was a whopping 2.7k words 😭😭i really do love picking on law; also ps this isn’t proofread yet so enjoy the rawness ty

----

“traaafFFFYYYY!” He stumbles forward to balance the sudden weight tossed on his back, hands instinctively grabbing the legs wrapped around him. His life was never like this, until you came around.

It was a regular night in the submarine, Law doing his routinely watch through the sub’s finder. What the hell is that, he zoomed in to get a better view of the blurry image, hm, what is that?

He found a floating bucket under the sea with a tightly sealed lid and a hole carved on the upside with a plastic straw sticking out. Confused and hoping it was some lost gold, he made Bepo fish out the container and check it out. Instead of finding what he hoped to uncover, he discovered a limp body of a young female.

“It’s not breathing, captain! What if it’s been purposely tossed into sea... what if...” his words begin to trail off when the horrid realization of the sea being the graveyard to rest the corpse crossed his mind. He shrieked. They messed with the dead! They’re going to die! He watched too many Asian horror films to know where this is going.

Not before long, Law sighed out of annoyance, moving Bepo’s paw from the right side of the chest to the left, instantly calming down his tremors and leaving the poor bear sheepish.

Footsteps approach Law’s office and busted through the door. Low and behold, it was no other than Penguin and Shachi.

“Cap’n!! What’s wrong? We heard Bepo scream!—” Penguin tugged on Shachi’s sleeve, forcing his attention to the corpse curled in the bucket. Bepo covered both mouths before a squall was ripped from their throats, “Shh... it’s alive.”

“Room,” the iconic blue sphere encapsulates the room as Law unsheathes his Kikoku, “Scan.” The sliver glint of the sword flickered against the blue hue as it perused the physique. Producing no results, he sheathed his sword. “None” was all he could report.

“Oh thank god!” Penguin leaned over the large wooden pail, examining the face of the woman. “She’s kinda cute,” his hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “Mind if I say that I saved her?” He bantered with a sly smile.

“Move outta the way, lemme see!” Shachi shoved Penguin, an instant grin apparent inside his face.

“Stop fucking around.” Law jostled the apologetic duo to hoist majority of the body’s upper half out the bucket. “Bepo-ya, grab the feet”

“Roger!” He saluted before doing as told.

“Pen-ya, Shachi-ya,” their attentions turned to him, responding with a “Yes, boss?”, to which Law replied, “Get out.” As they left, the captain and first mate transfer the patient to the resting ward and laid her on a more comfortable bed.

“Catch some sleep, Bepo-ya.”

“What about you Captain? Who’s gonna watch her if she wakes up?”

“I will. Go ahead and sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t good for your fur.”

Bepo bowed, trusting all will go well since the captain was watching over her, and left to do as told. Meanwhile, Law pulled out a chair and raised his feet atop the bed. It was going to be a long night.

Surely, he must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knows, he’s the one in bed and his crew bustled in the kitchen. It was a different ruckus this time; it wasn’t the same morning liveliness he knew, no, it was something more like... a party?

He made his way to the kitchen, head slightly pounding due to the loud vibrations bouncing off the walls. Swinging the kitchen door open, he’s faced with a festive bunch surrounding a stranger. Who the hell is she and how’d she infiltrate my ship?

Now on alert, he reached for his sword, preparing to attack but was stopped by his lovable white bear, who had multiple syrup stains resting on his fur. “Captain!!! Look!! She’s awake!!”

Who?

Oh yeah, the bucket girl.

“Yeah man that was suuuuperrrr crazy! I really thought I was gonna die out there!” A guffaw rumbled in the room, the crowd listening intently to what you have to say, “dude there was this big—and I mean big— whirlpool! With nowhere else to go, I just hid in a good ol’ barrel and hoped for the best.”

“Woah, you’re so cool Y/n!” The crew chanted as Law made his way through the crowd, sitting rightfully at his bench, head against his propped up hand.

“Hey, you must be the captain!” You greeted him with a hearty laugh while you reached over to the opposite side to pat his back, unintentionally thrusting his body forward with every rough pat.

“Don’t touch me,” he pulled away and dusted himself off, “I take it you’re better. Any pain?”

Completely ignoring his question, you continued, “Yeah how rude of me, I’m Y/n!!! I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, it’s just I thought I was gonna die out there because—“

He held up a hand and finished the same sentence you said prior, “Yeah, yeah, there was a whirlpool and you thought you were gonna die, so your pea-sized brain said to stuff yourself in a barrel and hope for the best, yes, I’ve heard it earlier.” He said all in one breath. This amount of stupidity reminded him of a certain captain he was supposed to meet soon.

Instead of feeling offended, a big cackle bursted in the suddenly tense room. “I like you!” Slamming down your fist on his table as a sign of determination, he saw that same look of craze. Oh, how he could never forget that gaze.

“From here on out, I’m your crewmate now.” Cheers erupted from your mates, picking you up in rejoice to congratulate your recruitment.

“No, everyone quiet. You are not a part of my crew. Find yourself another place to loiter in. We don’t accept stowaways here.”

“Yeah no, it’s fine! I’ve been looking for a crew anyways.”

“I am captain of this ship and when I say I will toss you overboard if you insist you’re a Heart Pirate, I will toss you—”

“Y’all I’m hungry, got any food? Preferably meat, yeah?”

“Do not feed her.”

They feed you anyways despite his protests. He didn’t need another one like him on his ship, let alone in his crew.

“By the way, what’s your name Mr. Captain?” A piece of meat was ripped right off the bone. What a slob, Law grit his teeth, and as if I’ll accept her messy behavior. I’m tossing her right off the sub when she’s done.

“It’s Trafalgar Law!” Penguin chimes in, beating the captain to his own introduction. He grunts in annoyance. “Address him as Captain or doctor,” added Bepo.

“MMmmmmm,” your face twisted comically after a brief ponder, “Too boring, how ‘bout Lawsy?”

“No.”

“Trally?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gar.”

“Just shut up, I’m losing brain cells from you. Address me accordingly.”

“Okay, Traffy.” You burped as you chugged down the last of the juice.

Law could only sigh, because even if he threw you overboard, he’d still be stuck with you.

And that’s how it all circles back to Law giving you a ride on his back while walking along in the designated plaza. This is how his normal looks like nowadays. And nowadays, he doesn’t complain, even if he hates being ordered around, he just does it. His crew speculates him having only a soft spot for you, but he denies it every time. It was obvious though.

Today was the day he and Luffy agreed to meet at Dressrosa to take down that son of a bitch named Doflamingo. Everything was going as plan.

“Hey, Tra-guy!” The strawhats called putting from the other end of plaza, stirring a commotion contrasting the daily chatter of the citizens. He scans around and only sees Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky out of the troublesome gang. Where’s Luffy?

His grip tightened to hold you in place after your legs thrashed around in excitement, that never leaving irksome grin plastered on your features as always. “Stay still,” he sneered as he forced your legs to settle.

“Woah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/n,” Usopp whispered to Nami, to which she nodded in agreement.

“My, they have gotten quite close,” Robin’s chuckle was covered by her hand.

“Wow!” Franky drawled out, his stance in his usual super pose, “Since when did you two get together?” The glint of his shades gleamed as Law approached.

Law simply responded with a “Never” and carried on with discussing the plan that Luffy and most likely his crew won’t follow suit—but it was worth a shot. Hell, he didn’t even bother to explain it to you, knowing you’d do your own thing anyways like what you were trying to do now.

“Traff, Traff, Traff!” With every chant, you kicked your legs outwards to catch his attention.

“What, what, what.” He propped his arms upwards to readjust your sagging position caused by the sudden movements. The strawhats paused their chatter, noting that the stoic doctor had no sign of vexation on his face. That was a first.

“I’m hungry,” you smooshed his cheeks together. With a lilt, you asked, “Food?”

He casually nods, telling you “Later”, inattentive to the cheek smooshing and now cheek pulling. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious he had a soft spot. I mean, nobody can touch him—let alone his face— like that. If they tried, they’d be in a million pieces.

“Guys!!” The scream approached fast along with a mob of angry citizens following, “Got the meat! Now run!” The strawhat captain zoomed by, dragging the rest of his crew and allies along with him until stopping at a hidden alleyway.

During the time of escape, you hung your head down as Law transferred you from his back to his chest, face-to-face, in one swift motion, so you never caught a glimpse of the runner.

“‘Eyyyy, Tra-guy! Didn’t even notice you’re here!” The man gnawed on his meat while stuffing the leftovers into his big orange bag.

“Glad to see you too, Strawhat-ya,” he greeted back, eyes meeting with yours for a hasty second before trailing his gaze to your relaxed lips. It was intimate, seeing you close to him, bodies pressed together, arms around his neck and waist whilst his rested on the underside of your thighs. You and him always been together since the day he was held at gunpoint to recruit you, so it was normal for him to have some form of physical contact, whether it’d be hand holding to prevent you from straying away or the constant elbow hitting the back of his head while you whistled a verse or two. Giving you piggyback rides was common, so why did his heart start racing? This is what he always did, what was so different that could make him feel heated?

His chain of thoughts broke when you ripped yourself off of him to hug Luffy. “It’s been so long,” the shorter make cried, “I missed you Y/n! So nice seeing you out here! Especially with Tra-guy.” Seemingly impossible, your arms drew him tighter to you. “I missed you Luffy. God, I’m so happy to see you alive, I read all those articles. Really making big moves out there, kiddo.” Dramatic tears flowed out both his and your eyes, basking in the nostalgia and memories you shared.

To you, it was a touching moment; but to others, it was a cloud of confusion.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Usopp’s question dripping in disarray. But, their confusion was unparalleled to Law’s. That’s who you reminded him of—Luffy. He fell in love with someone who’s basically Luffy. He fell in love with Luffy’s sister. He fell in lo— no. No he’s not in love, what is he thinking?

“Huh, that’s a shocker,” Law’s lips were dry, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two monkeys hit it off.

Parting ways as the sun retired for business, Law took you to the hotel he had a reservation for. He was definitely gonna ask about Luffy. Grabbing the keys, it was a nonstop travel to the bedroom. Gotta hand it to Mingo, the bastard is a sick fck but he has some classy taste. The hotel was flooded with the natural shine of the moon, decorations silk and simple to compliment each other and the luxurious smell that was hard to miss.

Immediately upon entering the room, the first thing you checked was the fridge, searching for sweets whilst Law leaned idly against the doorframe as he watched.

“Yes, they have kinder eggs,” you shoved an egg in his field of view, “See?” He lowered your hand away from his face and ran his calloused fingers against his hair. It was a long day today, and he was tired as hell, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was to watch you.

“Want some?” Already munching on the Cadbury you found, you waved your face in front of his to break his daze.

“What?”

You simply pointed and broke off a piece to lay it against his outstretched palm.

“No wonder you seemed familiar to me,” he started, “You’re his sister.” Responding in a hum, he continued, “How did that happen? Sister by blood or by choice?”

“By blood dummy,” you popped a jawbreaker in your mouth, “We grew up together. If Ace and Sabo were being a jackass, I’d beat their ass flat. They were such bad influences! But seemingly in a good way..? They were like brothers to me too, ha, I was kinda like their mom if you really think ‘bout it,” Your mouth stopped sucking as the words you said became more and more sentimental. “I miss them. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. But I’m happy. I guess it’s just... with everything... it’s nice seeing him alive and laughing. Enjoying life. And happy! Must’ve been hard on him all by himself. Besides, I can’t bear to lose another brother, not again.”

“I understand,” naturally that was his response, being that he could empathize since he did lose a sibling, a mother, and a father—twice— because of people. The world was fucked up. No other words were exchanged, effectively ending that convo.

You dug through the multiple bottles of wine, haphazardly throwing them away to search for more candy. A set of hands joined you on this search, crouching right beside you.

“Seems like you need help.” He offered a tiny, yet genuine, smile, to which you smiled back.

After endless digging, you found a can of whip cream and laughed as you sprayed a heaping load on the doctor’s nose before running around. He chased after you, grunting and hitting his long limbs against the small obstacles you placed, and lost you after he moved said objects to clear the path. You climbed onto the wall and pounced on his back, causing him to fall down completely, the cream crushed against his pointed nose and marbled floor.

“I win,” you sat on him as he struggled like a caught spider underneath your weight.

“Okay, I concede. Get off me.”

You flipped him over so his face was towards the ceiling, which was dark after you turned off the lights, and laid back on his chest. His chest had a subtle, yet rhythmic rise to it and made you fall asleep without trying too hard. You peeped a sigh of content before snoring away.

He admired how peaceful you looked when he wasn’t busy babysitting you. The moonlight doused your features in a soft light, turning even the harsh features into something delicate like a flower. The way your lips parted to let out obnoxious snores, the way your hair is tousled in a perfectly imperfect manner, the way your eyelashes contrast your skin tone, the way how there’s something about this moonlight that makes him wanna just lean down and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

So he does.

You barely felt it graze against yours.

His hand caressed your hair with feathery light touches and his other brushed against your cheek.

Only the moon knew about the endearing look hidden in Law’s eyes that night; it was that same endearing look that showed he was in love.

[crossbowking]

No Way Out (Part 2)

(Click HERE to read No Way Out Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid Season 3) Trapped inside an abandoned hospital and on the run from a vicious herd, Daryl and Y/N find themselves caught up in a fight for their lives.

A/N: Um. Hi. Lol. So, I know this is legitimately ONE YEAR LATE. But hopefully it’s worth it. (@wilhelmjfink now you can stop threatening me!!! Also thanks for the cover work ily. @jodiereedus22 thank you for always supporting me!) This is a super long part 2, but I wanted to give you guys a little extra something because you waited so long. I’m happy to put this story to rest now.

Quick Recap of Part 1

- Reader and Daryl are scavenging a hospital

- Oh no! Reader opens a cafeteria doors, but low and behold, there’s a herd inside!

- Herd chases them to a dead end (which ends up being this massive hole in the ground from an explosion that falls all the way from the third floor to the ground floor...the hole has a bunch of pipes and rebars sticking out, making it look like the world’s most dangerous game of pinball lol)

- They fight off walkers

- Daryl tip toes around the hole and finds a mysterious door

- He comes back in the knick of time and saves reader

- Daryl is fighting the biters off while reader gets to the door (suffering from a probable concussion/bruised ribs/other shit)

- He gets distracted and AHHHHH HE IS TACKLED BY A WALKER INTO THE HOLE AND WE ARE ALL VERY SAD AND HE’S PROBABLY DEAD NOW NOOOOOO.

Okay, enjoy!

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Ko-fi Account

Previously...

Then Daryl looked back at you.

And all it took was that one moment, that one brief moment of distraction…and everything changed.

It almost happened in slow motion — you were sure of it.

By the time the archer spun back around to face the herd, it was too late. Cold, decaying arms were wrapping around his middle, propelling him backward, catching him off guard.

Then a bloodcurdling scream was tearing through your chest as you watched Daryl suddenly lose his footing, stumble over the edge of the hole, and disappear from sight.

Now...

It took a moment for you to realize the spine-chilling screams drowning out the roar from the dead were coming from you.

You’d never heard anything so raw, so gut-wrenching, so broken spill from your lips. You’d never felt so helpless in your entire life — it was as though every single fiber of your being was begging you to move, to jump, to do something. Yet there you were, frozen in place, only able to cry out in pain as parts of your soul disappeared into the dark.

Everything felt fuzzy.

It was almost as if your mind wouldn’t allow you to process what you just witnessed, instead choosing to simply shut down and ignore reality. Your body felt heavy, your brain muddled and foggy as your shrieks dwindled into pathetic whimpers. At some point, your legs must have given out because you suddenly found yourself kneeling inside the room you’d climbed into, forehead pressed against the cool tile as you fought back the wave of nausea coursing through you.

You raised your head just in time to watch the door in front of you slowly swing shut, the light spilling from the hallway narrowing until you were enveloped in nothing but blackness. Your heaving breaths echoed around you, bouncing off the dark walls of whatever room you now found yourself in. You reached out blindly, your shaking hands fumbling to find solidity as you sat back on your haunches. You began crawling forward, keeping one hand out in front of you as you felt for the door that had closed, ignoring the way your chest began to suddenly constrict the closer you got.

But the moment you felt it, the moment your hand pressed against the dented metal, that’s when you heard it — an incessant thudding coming from the opposite side of the door.

It took you a second to figure out what exactly the noise was. It was distant, mimicking the thrum of a heart. But when the thudding began to increase, like the rapid pounding of a native drum, you realized that you were listening to the sound of dozens upon dozens of bodies careening into the hole outside the door and falling to the ground floor.

And all you could think about was Daryl — lying at the bottom of that pit, limbs twisted, bones shattered, his body becoming buried amongst the dead —

The contents of your stomach suddenly appeared before you. A small, desperate, part of you wished the sounds of your vomiting would drown out the sickening thuds reverberating from the opposite side of the door — but no. If only you were that lucky.

You shakily pushed up from your hands and knees, wiping your mouth with the crook of your elbow. The thuds were getting louder it seemed — endless, almost. And the more you tried to tune out the noise, the more it intensified. It suddenly felt as though the walls were closing in on you, the darkness overpowering, seeping through your flesh, finding a home amongst your bones. It felt like the air around you was thinning, each breath becoming harder and harder to take.

You grimaced, gnashing your teeth together as you squeezed your eyes shut and clamped your hands over your ears, attempting to silence the pounding in your mind. “S-Stop — please, stop,” you whispered desperately, your words tangled in your throat as you began rocking back and forth, clawing at the sides of your head.

Daryl always knew how to calm you — how to keep you sane. But he wasn’t with you. No, instead he was at the bottom of that hole — the only good thing left in your world now buried amongst a mass of the dead.

A gut-wrenching thought suddenly struck you — what if he survived the fall? What if he survived? If the fall didn’t kill him, the crushing weight of the dead would have. All of those biters that dropped, undoubtedly landing on top of his broken body, would eventually press the air from his lungs, slowly and painfully suffocating him until nothingness came. And if that didn’t kill him, then the walkers that survived the fall, their brains still very much intact, would writhe towards him, clawing their twisted fingers around him, sinking their teeth into his flesh until there was nothing left — until they erased him from existence, all that remaining being streaks of his blood on the hospital floor and pieces of his skin wedged between their teeth —

There was nothing left in your stomach for you to expel, leaving you to painfully dry heave as you forced the gruesome thoughts from your mind. A vicious tremor racked through you as you pushed up from your hands, hunched over, one arm wrapped protectively around your sore stomach before you settled with your back against the door. You drew your knees to your chest, curling inwardly, feeling your throat constrict as you attempted to tune out the chaos.

You didn’t know how long you sat like that — head tucked down, eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around your legs. When the fog finally cleared from your mind, you realized it was finally silent — eerily silent. You lifted your head slowly, straining your ears, hearing nothing except the sound of your own shallow breaths.

You couldn't sit there any longer — you had to do something. You had to move or scream or cry — or else you feared you’d never do anything again. Or else you’d just sit in that pitch-black room, letting the darkness suffocate you until it swallowed you altogether.

You slowly slid your legs out in front of you.

Move — you could move.

Your voice was lost, caged inside your chest, trapped beneath layers of guilt and ache and loss. Your eyes were void of moisture, hollowed and glossy, red-rimmed from the tears you refused to let fall because if they fell, that made things real — that made this real.

But move — you could move.

So inch by inch, you managed to pull yourself to your feet, your legs wobbling beneath you as you grabbed onto the door frame for support. The adrenaline from earlier was wearing off, the shock slipping away, leaving you with all sorts of aches and pains in its place.

There was a steady pounding at the base of your skull from where your head had collided with the ground — the ringing in your ears and sudden dizziness had all signs pointing towards a concussion, but you didn’t have time to think about that right now. Your ribs were achy, bruised from being tackled by that one walker and the palm of your right hand was torn open from the shard of glass you’d slid it across in an attempt to save your life. You hissed softly, curling your hand into a fist and tucking it protectively against your chest.

Now wasn’t the time.

Using your shoulder, you slowly pushed open the door, shielding yourself from the sudden onslaught of light. After your eyes adjusted, you lowered your shaking hand, taking a deep breath. You were immediately aware of the stench wafting up from below — like rotted flesh and blood, like meat that had been sitting out in the sun for a little too long.

But you had to look. You had to see. You just had to.

Looking down the hole, past the rebars and pipes sticking out from the sides of the floor that’d caved in, the bottom of the pit simply looked dark — as though it was too deep for even light to touch. But the more you stared, the clearer the carnage became.

Bodies on top of bodies piled below you — bones torn through skin, standing out in stark contrast against the blood smeared over flesh. Limbs twisted at the kneecaps and elbows, legs and arms bent at odd angles. The most sickening part was the fact that most of the dead below were still alive — their brains still intact, having somehow survived the three-story drop — their broken frames wriggled and writhed below, trapped beneath the masses.

You gripped onto the side of the doorway, exhaling shakily, unable to breathe through your nose without feeling the urge to gag. There were too many bodies below, not enough light — you couldn’t see him.

“D-Daryl?” his name slipped through your trembling lips, voice groggy and thick from not being used, throat raw from your horrified screams. “Daryl?” you tried again, this time a little louder, a little more desperate as you scanned the bottom of the hole. You weren’t sure what you were doing — or what you were trying to accomplish here. What exactly did you think was going to happen? That Daryl would pop up out of nowhere like a fucking magician? That he’d crawl out from beneath those dozens upon dozens of bodies unscathed? That you’d realize this wasn’t real life and simply a gruesome figment of your imagination?

You gnashed your teeth together. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Because…because it was Daryl. And if he was dead, then what the fuck was the point of any of this?

“Daryl!” you screamed, the cry tearing through your chest, your voice echoing down the silent halls of the hospital as you choked back a sob.

And that was when you saw it — lying at the bottom of the pit, strewn off to the side, the image shattering your soul completely.

His crossbow.

A muffled sort of cry slipped through your lips as you propelled yourself back into the room, away from the cavernous hole. The heavy metal door slowly swung shut, encompassing you in darkness once more as you shuffled backward frantically.

But before you knew what was happening, you suddenly lost your footing, unable to catch yourself on anything as you toppled over — but not just backward…downward.

That was when you realized you weren’t in a room at all — you were in a stairwell.

The world spun as you tumbled down the stairs, your already bruised body smashing against the concrete landing moments later. You sputtered for breath, curling onto your side, wrapping an arm around your middle as you fought for the breath that’d been knocked out of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimpered quietly, feeling the steady pounding at the base of your skull intensify, feeling every ache and pain jolt through you.

You grimaced as you pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, another wave of pain rocking through you. “Come on, damn it,” you growled, your quiet voice echoing down the stairwell.

The darkness was so vast it felt endless as you blindly reached in front of you, feeling along the floor for the next set of stairs.

Once you felt an edge, you crawled forward inch by inch, ignoring your body’s demands to rest, until you found yourself at the top of the next flight of stairs. You kept your breathing steady as you maneuvered your feet in front of you, finding stability on one of the steps. You reached to the left, sure enough finding a railing a few inches above. You grabbed onto the railing as though your life depended on it because, well, it very much did.

You couldn’t help but cry out as you pulled yourself to your feet, your beaten body screaming in protest. You wrapped an arm around your middle, putting pressure against your bruised ribcage as you fought to control your frantic breathing.

It took an extensive amount of time for you to make it down the next flight of stairs — the process painstakingly slow as you fumbled in the dark. But you kept yourself focused, the sharp pains and tugs in your body forcing you to be alert as you descended the stairwell inch by inch, concentrating on nothing but your shallow breathing and steady footsteps.

You knew you finally reached the ground floor when you spotted a small sliver of light at what you could only guess to be a second door — and you nearly wept with relief. Part of you noticed the way the stairwell began to smell the farther you descended  — the stench of something resembling spoiled meat wafting up your nostrils — but you’d tried to ignore it.

Now, you couldn’t help but force back the gag that rose as you slowly limped towards the light.

The pile of the dead was right there, just ahead. Which meant that Daryl —

“Stop,” you growled to yourself, halting your train of thought with that single word. “Don’t go there,” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling moisture gather at the corners of your eyelids. You swallowed any rising emotion, steeling yourself for what was ahead as you reached out and shoved open the door.

You were immediately assaulted by the decaying smell of flesh — it was so powerful, you felt your knees buckle beneath you. Your eyes began to water as you buried your nose into the crook of your arm, grabbing onto the doorway for support as you slid out of the stairwell, the door slowly closing behind you.

The image before you — of dozens upon dozens of broken and bloodied bodies piled up, some still writhing, frenzied by your presence, reaching desperately for you, but unable to move closer— would stay with you for the rest of your life. You were sure of it.

You had to turn your eyes away — you knew that if you looked at the horror for too long, there was a chance you’d see something familiar. Like a calloused hand — the one that’d stroked the hair from your face during the nights you couldn’t find peace. Or a scuffed boot — worn out from the miles walked in them by your side. Or the frayed end of a leather jacket — like the one that’d wrap around your frame when you couldn’t shake a chill.

And you couldn’t bear to see any of that.

So you turned your eyes away, creeping alongside the ground floor’s hallway walls, inching around the pile of the dead until you found what you were looking for.

His crossbow.

You couldn’t leave it behind. It was all you had left of him now.

You sniffled softly, wincing as you reached down and grabbed it, your bruised ribs aching in protest. But you pushed away the pain and slung the strap over your shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort settle over where it lay.

You had to keep going. It was all you could do now.

The hospital was like a god damn maze — you turned down hallway after hallway, searching for the side door you and Daryl had initially broken down and entered through, forcing any thought that didn’t involve escaping from your mind. You kept one arm wrapped securely around your midsection, attempting to relieve some pressure from your ribcage, working on keeping your breathing steady.

After what felt like hours, each path you took continuously winding into another, the hallway you’d been staggering down finally spilled out into an empty, open room.

Tightening your grip around the crossbow’s strap, you surveyed the area around you, taking a quick break to catch your breath. It seemed as though you’d found the main lobby, with overturned couches and chairs littering the room, magazines and random debris shredded to pieces, and a large desk with blood splattered over the words plastered across the front — Emory Hospital.

A desperate, half-delirious sob rose to your throat as you propelled yourself forward, towards the glass entrance doors.

But your heart sunk when you pushed against the doorway, only to find it locked.

“No, come on,” you growled, pounding your fist against the glass out of frustration.

You could see the parking lot, filled with abandoned vehicles and debris — you were so close. The truck you and Daryl had driven was parked just outside the lot, hidden behind some brush. You just needed to get through the glass doors and you’d be okay — you couldn’t risk exploring the hospital further. What if there was another herd trapped somewhere? What if you became lost within the walls? What if you saw him? Dead or suffering or even worse — turned.

You didn’t think you’d have it in you to put him down. You couldn’t do it. You had to get out and now.

Pushing away from the doors, you frantically searched the room for something you could break through the glass with. When you spotted a flipped chair, you made a beeline for it, grabbing onto one of the legs and dragging it towards the entrance.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you hefted the chair up, the motion jarring your injuries. But you fought through the pain, reeling back before throwing the chair at the glass. A string of curses fell out of you as you watched the chair simply bounce off the glass without making so much as a dent. With a growl, you picked up the chair once more, taking a deep breath, stepping back.

You gathered every bit of strength you had left and hurled the chair against the doors, the forceful momentum throwing you off balance.

And as your body slammed against the ground, you heard a deafening shatter.

You shielded your face as the glass doors exploded, small shards raining down on you. Instantly, you felt a cool breeze from the outside, sharpening your senses. You winced, pulling yourself to your feet, sliding Daryl’s crossbow off your shoulder and into your hands. You’d never learned how to use the weapon, but it was all you had to defend yourself — that crash was bound to bring walkers your way.

You needed to move — and fast.

Sidestepping the larger pieces of glass now littering the floor, you maneuvered your way through the doorway and out of the hospital.

The moment the sun hit you, its rays warming your features, you felt a swell of emotion. Partly because you’d truly thought you’d never make it out alive — but mostly because of, well, him.

You paused just outside the doorway — how could you leave him behind like this? What the fuck was wrong with you? If the roles were reversed, Daryl would’ve dug through that pile of bodies to find you — even if it was just to bring home your lifeless corpse for a proper burial. You couldn’t leave him like this.

You turned on your heels, the sudden determination to bring Daryl home nearly overwhelming.

But the moment you spun around, the moment you looked away, you felt cold, gnarled hands grab onto you.

And you didn’t think — you just moved.

You swung Daryl’s crossbow around, slamming it against the side of the walker’s head that’d latched onto you, effectively knocking it off its feet.

Then, you took off, away from the hospital and through the parking lot.

It was difficult to run — you were injured and carrying the crossbows extra weight — leaving you half jogging, half hobbling away from the sudden onslaught of walkers, dodging around long-forgotten cars and trucks. You craned your neck to look behind you — a small cluster of the dead had been drawn in from the glass shattering and now, their sights were set on you.

You weren’t going to outrun them — you could practically feel your body giving out from underneath you. There were only four biters — you could handle that. You’d handled more than that before.

Chest heaving, you slowed your pace, spinning around, frantically searching for anything you could use as a weapon.

The dead closed in quickly — the first walker lunged forward, though you were able to dodge its attack, knocking the second walker away with a swing of the crossbow. Even if you did know how to use the weapon, you had no time to even load the damn thing.

The third biter launched itself at you, but you quickly fended it off with a swift kick to the gut, feeling your body scream in protest as the dead careened backward. You stumbled away, colliding into the bumper of an abandoned car behind you. You fought for balance as the next walker came at you, pressing you up against the hood of the car — but you quickly counteracted, keeping its snapping jaws at bay by shoving your forearm against its neck.

You grunted under the weight, feeling your arm begin to shake as you fought off the dead, dropping the crossbow at your feet. An idea struck as you used your free hand to reach behind you, fumbling around the hood of the car until you felt the windshield. You grabbed onto one of the windshield wipers, yanking it towards you as far as possible until you heard a loud snap.

Then, with the windshield wiper in hand, you raised it above your head and sunk it deep into the walker’s decaying skull.

“Holy shit,” you breathed heavily, ripping the wiper away as the dead fell at your feet.

The next walker lunged, but you didn't hesitate, thrusting the wiper forward, directly into its eye-socket with a sickening squelch. The third came at you with a hungry growl, but you quickly yanked the wiper out and embedded it into the third’s skull, shoving the dead off to the side.

The fourth and final walker clawed its way towards you, but you quickly sidestepped its attack, grabbing it by the back of its head and slamming its face into the hood of the car. As the dead fell, you swiftly grabbed the crossbow you dropped and jumped on top of the dead, raising the weapon high above you before slamming the butt of the bow into its head, immediately caving in its skull.

Your breathing was ragged as you dragged yourself off the biter and fell to the ground, your back against the car tire, body limp and fatigued, crossbow lying across your legs.

The parking lot was silent — all that could be heard was your rapid breaths and the thrum of your heartbeat as you shut your eyes.

And then suddenly, you heard something else.

It almost sounded like the scuffing of a boot.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking through the sudden haziness.

That was when you noticed a fifth walker — slower than the others, but shuffling steadily in your direction.

You groaned softly, attempting to pull yourself up off the ground, but you couldn’t — you had no strength left, leaving you to collapse pathetically against the car as the dead neared closer. All you could do was grab onto the crossbow, your grip weak as you hefted the weapon up into a shaky grasp, your last attempt in defending yourself.

But then, you really looked at what was approaching.

And your blood ran ice cold.

Your eyes shot open, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, a wave of nausea coursing through you.

“No,” you whispered in horror, feeling your stomach roll. “Please, God, no.”

It was him.

The closer he got, the more you recognized. His boots, shuffling along the asphalt. His hands, swaying back and forth as he limped towards you. His hair, long and stringy, covering the front of his shadowy face.

It was him.

And you couldn’t do it — you couldn’t put him down.

This was your fault anyways — you were the one who opened the doors that let the herd out, you were the one who couldn’t fend them off, you were the one who left him behind. This is what you deserved.

You felt a sob rise to your throat, unable to hold back the emotion you suddenly felt, like a dam had been released inside of you. “I-I can’t do it,” you cried out, crossbow wavering in your grasp as Daryl inched forward, closer and closer, his staggering footsteps mirroring the swift hammering of your heart until he was so close you could practically reach out and touch him.

And then, he stilled.

The air was so quiet, so tense, you could cut it with a knife.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

And then —

“That damn thing ain’t even loaded, ya know.”

You faltered.

No. No, this wasn’t possible. You saw him — you saw him fall. You saw it happen. There was no way he could be standing in front of you — he was dead. He was gone, right?

Right?

“A-Am —” you stammered, pushing past the lump in your throat, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “Am I dead?” you whispered, mostly to yourself, questioning everything you’ve ever known in that split second.

Daryl’s eyes remained locked with yours, a flash of confusion crossing his features. “Nah,” he grunted, glancing around the parking lot, seemingly surveying the area. “Pretty shit idea a’ heaven, don’t ya think?”

A shaky breath slipped through your lips as you struggled to sit upright, feeling like the world was turning upside down around you. “H-Hang on —” you stuttered, unable to process just what in the fuck was happening. “No — n-no, this is impossible. I-I saw — I saw it, I-I saw you —” you sounded like a crazy person, you knew that, but you could feel yourself starting to lose your grasp on reality, like you had been transported to some sort of sick, twisted dimension.

Daryl quickly caught on, his features suddenly changing as he kneeled in front of you. “Hey, hey, hey,” he shushed. “Easy —”

“No, no, no, I saw — I saw you — I-I saw you fall, Daryl!” you protested wildly, feeling your chest beginning to constrict.

“Hey, hey, look a’ me, alright?” the archer rumbled, worry etching his features. “I got hold a’ somethin’ on the way down, Y/N. Ya saw all those damn pipes an’ bars stickin’ out, right? I got hold a’ one an’ swung right down onto the floor below ya,” he explained before glancing down at his hands. “Tore off some skin pretty bad,” he held his palms out for you to see and sure enough, blood oozed out from the center. “An’ twisted my leg ta’ hell, but that’s all.”

You shook your head slowly, gaze locked on his. “It’s — it’s not possible,” you murmured under your breath, eyes wide and teary, unable to stop the swell of emotion. “This isn’t real. I-I think I — m-maybe I hit my head too hard,” you whispered, poking the back of your head, wincing when you hit a tender spot.

Daryl’s features shifted, becoming stormy all of a sudden as he reached out and grabbed either side of your face, jolting you slightly. “Listen ta’ me,” he growled, searching your eyes frantically. “Feel this — feel it!” he shook your head gently, his hands warm against your ashen flesh. “This is real, Y/N. This is real.”

A soft sob rose before you could force it back, your bottom lip trembling as you forced your eyes downward. “N-No —“

Daryl then grabbed one of your hands, collecting it with his own before pressing your palm against his chest. “Feel that? What’d ya feel, huh? What’d ya feel, Y/N?” he demanded, a desperation in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

You froze, closing your eyes, stilling your body — and then you felt it.

A heartbeat.

It was rapid, hammering from within him, but most importantly — it was strong.

And it was there.

You opened your eyes, watching as the archer’s gaze softened, slowly removing your hand from his chest. He glanced down at your palm then, his brows furrowing suddenly as he reached behind himself, pulling out the red rag he kept tucked in the back pocket of his torn jeans. You noticed then that he was inspecting the cut on your palm, the one you’d received earlier when fending off the walkers inside the hospital.

Wordlessly, he wrapped the rag around your palm, his touch gentle as he tied a knot before letting your hand fall back into your lap.

A beat of silence passed between you before you exhaled shakily. “I-I thought you were dead. I mean, I — I thought that was it. I thought I lost you, Daryl,” you hiccuped softly, a tear snaking down your cheek before you could stop it.

But Daryl was already reaching out, swiping away the moisture as he shrugged. “Ain’t gettin’ rid a’ me that easy.”

Your features crumpled. “I’m serious,” you sniffed, leaning forward slightly, catching his gaze for a moment before he looked away.

“C’mon, we gotta go. Gonna be dark soon,” he rumbled, grimacing as he grabbed his astray crossbow and rose to his feet, balancing most of his weight on his uninjured leg before reaching down to help you up after.

You muttered a curse under your breath as you straightened, feeling your ribs ache at the shift, features twisted in pain. It was almost embarrassing how winded you were after just that small movement — but Daryl remained unfazed. If anything, he seemed more worried.

You leaned your backside against the car behind you, wrapping your arm around your center, taking a moment to collect yourself. You could feel Daryl’s eyes watching your every move and quickly glanced up at him.

And that’s when you realized…he was there.

He was real.

He was okay.

Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around the archer in a tight embrace, uncaring of the way your body protested. You buried your face against his chest, unbothered that he remained still, apparently caught off guard — so much so that he was no longer even breathing. But a small smile grew across your lips when you felt his arms slowly snake around you, his cheek coming to rest on the top of your head, his heart racing a fraction faster than before.

After a moment, he pulled away. You felt empty in the spaces he’d filled, but it was okay — because he was okay.

But then he reached forward, gently cupping the side of your face in a rare showing of affection, his calloused thumb brushing over your cheek. You placed your hand on top of his, sighing softly, your eyes searching his.

And there, in that brief moment of time, you finally felt whole.

A/N: Ha ha ha. Do you guys get it? “Whole” as in “Hole”? Like the “Hole” Daryl nearly died in LOLOLOLOL. 

Anywho, I’m not sure about the ending but hopefully this lived up to your expectations and didn’t disappoint!

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[smallestclowninthecircus]

Ok yall I'm listening to tma for the first time and im gonna record my thoughts here.

I dont even know if this is worth posting but im going to do it anyways. I listened to episodes 1-40 in 3 days, I believe that's the first season.

ep 1: this is v good so far idk not much to say

ep 2: are all of these gonna have somebody named jon? thats the name of the dude speaking right?

ep 3: design with lines and a square in the middle? gotta be real that just sounds like a spider web. (isnt there an entity or wtvr called The Web? i think?) also are we just gonna brush over whatever thing shoved her into the street bruh

ep 4: the eye! That's a thing I remember seeing posts about

ep 6: worms? Worms!! "This story is concerning" arent they all?? who the heck is Jane prentiss uh oh

ep 7: so I'm guessing this is one of the entities we hear about?

ep 8: fractals feel like a Web thing idk its just vibes. this box sounds like a Web thing too- oop yeah spiders

ep 9: ik the hand with the eye on it is significant cuz i see it in fanart but im not sure what it means.

ep 11: web go brrr

ep 12: eyes!! In ep 4 the poem mentions smth about hearing right? AYO look at me makin connections Jared Keay (keye?) baybeeee. Beholding is a thing!

ep 15: I think theres an entity called The Dark but I'm not sure if im just making that up

ep 17: is it jorgen shitener or wtvr his name is again. IT IS!

ep 16: web time

ep 18: sus smells. Is it Eye time?

ep 19: oh!! this is connected to the other one! woah!

ep 21: this feels a lot like the cave diving one so far. was that a squish noise i heard at the end? worms? doesnt he have worm scars from whatever thing?

ep 22: martin voice reveal!! pogchamp! oh wow ok i knew the worms were gonna be somewhat important but not this important oh boy.

ep 23: oh god please no not the books. is this related to the graveyard thing from mist? jw 1279 (doesnt jw mean jehovah's witness) ffFUC KING KEAY

ep 29: i wonder if gerard keay (as ive learned his name is spelled) is one of those immortal death thingies. he does seem to show up a bunch but somehow i doubt it

ep 30: The Slaughter time? Meat! like the upstairs neighbor one!

ep 31: he mispronounced Appalachia >:( aw hell naw this is some Most Dangerous Game shit. this has The Slaughter vibes

ep 32: Prentiss oh boy. worms go brr. beholding is such a specific word i feel like i have to write it down ever time i hear it. spiders again. I still havent figured out which entity prentiss is related with. "you rob it of it's fear" "i dont know why the hive chose me" Is there an entity called the hive? i wouldnt be surprised but i cant remember hearing about it. Nicholas says worms are related to The Corruption

ep 33: "trying not to think about eachother" sean kelly o no re u gonna die. yeah im with jon on this one theres not rlly any supernatural stuff happening. probably they sacrificed him to keep something ? at bay (heh)

ep 34: i dont have to talk about how weird John Doe is right? v sus. The cracking noise is them giving themselves bones right. Apple? spiders? awww teeth i tried to call it. Teeth like the trash bag episode!

ep 35: passages: as in from a book? please no god not litener tell me it isnt so- GODDAMMIT OH WAIT JARED ITS HIM THAT LITTLE SHIT 13 passages + the one they came from. Weirdly wet, probably covered in blood. Bone! from the book that jared has! that's where he got his fuckner book. pages with web, figure in the darkness (anglerfish) stranger who means him harm, smth abt heat idk lightless flame go brr. eww the wormsss.

ep 36: buzzing? like in Hive? this sounds like a worms thing, perhaps the person who gave the statement got infected, thats why she was washing/ itching her hand? lighter?? hold on jared had one and the guy who got killed by the crime dude had one. spiderweb design go brr web go brr

interesting note cuz i cant remember which episode this came up in. In one of the past episodes tim was talking about some mistakes in the recordings. jon doesnt seem like the type of person to just not care about mistakes. he's gotten obsessed with these recordings like others get obsessed with the web etc

ep 37: They have the table? hmm... is this gonna be some fairy ring stuff. oh boy more burning. iron oh boy fae shit. milk bottle? this all sounds like witch shit i gotta be honest. rain water? yeah this feels like witchy things lol. dont tell me he opened one of the bottles. istg. he messed with some witch's spell jar and now he's cursed. is it a photo of his "predecessor" AYO IT ISS I CALLED IT

ep 38: books at lease we know they wont be involved but they couldve been. how come no one but jon ever calls the design a spiderweb? he has a migrane from the design? (idk if it is a guy but i always use he/him in my head cuz jon does) hopefully that means he wont be influenced? idk. oh dear a person is gonna disappear arent they. is david gonna go missing. is the speaker gonna go missing? spider oh no jon. oh no worms oh fuck

ep 39: oh dear this is quite unfortunate. LMAO he just asked if martin was a ghost im losing my shit. AYY TIM. fucking sasha is gonna get brainwashed by the web istg. I think that's a new voice but i cant tell im not v good at determining different voices. is it prentiss?

ep 40: "my eyes are up here but yknow, theyre not." LMAO how come those worms were slow (tim's statement) sasha sounds off. it's not her for sure. Is it like NotGraham? NotSasha? its funny she (gertrude) has such an ordinary death but that almost just causes more questions. If she didnt die due to a supernatural thing then it's something scarier, a person. (ayy me n jon said like the exact same thing) "they'll have to kill me first" oh god oh fuck foreshadowing

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [17]

masterlist

Words: 9.5k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: some violence

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: HERE IT IS! Thank you all for your patience! Engoy! 💙

This far into the depths of the earth there was no warmth; only cold dampness and the distinct scent of a deep cavern. The female was shivering and crying as she approached the male, who was chained to the chilled, rocky ground. Tears streaked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as the male struggled against his restraints, jingling the metal, and snarled at her. The links that were cuffed to the male’s wrists were long enough that he was able to stand, but he couldn’t raise his arms higher than his waistline.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. As the female advanced toward him, the male continued trying to yank the chains out of the floor. Trying to raise his hands so he could choke her until she begged.

Begged for air. For mercy. Forgiveness.

And he would show her none.

“You think this will solve anything?” The male spat at her before laughing madly. “You can’t kill me… you can’t kill what I am!”

The female drew in a shaky breath and weakly smiled as she took in the sight before her. She swept her gaze over the slope of the male’s nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips. All features she had tenderly touched and kissed over the years. Familiar features. But what hadn’t always been there was the anger boiling behind his garnet eyes… at least, it had never been directed toward her. Not until now. And although the rage in his eyes made her want to flinch away, she forced herself to meet his glare. To imprint it all into her memory.

She raised her hand to gently caress the male’s face one last time as more tears escaped from her eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you. I can’t. As much as I hate you… I still love you too much.” The female lowered her hand to the male’s chest, resting her palm right over his heart as she gazed into his red eyes. “I’m going to seal you away, so the world doesn’t have to suffer under your influence.”

Then, she began to push into the male’s chest, making him groan and contort his face in pain. Blood cascaded out from his chest, coating his body and painting the floor a deep crimson. But the female continued to push in. Past the skin, meat, and bone. All the way until her delicate hand was wrapped around his still beating heart.

The male yelled at her as she gripped the muscle, cursing her existence and all she stood for. Ignoring his cutting words, she instead began whispering an incantation. The room began glowing a warm gold as she reached the peak of the spell. When she was finished, the brilliant light dimmed and faded until the room was cold, damp, and dark once more.

“There still needs to be balance…” The female murmured to herself before forcefully removing her hand from the cavity of the male’s chest.

In her hand was not his heart, though, but rather an obsidian crystal that pulsed and expelled wisps of black smoke. At the extraction of the object, the male collapsed to his knees and released a shuddering breath.

“How… how dare you?” He tremulously growled and violently jerked his restraints.

The female just slowly back away, tears still flowing down her cheeks. She cradled the ebony crystal against her chest as the male began to grow more and more unruly.

He thrashed against the chains. Screamed. Cursed. Gouged at the spot where his bondages were bolted to the floor, cracking and breaking his nails.

With irregular breaths and crazed eyes, he met the female’s gaze once more. “Release me. Right. Now.”

She held back a sob and shook her head at the male, who began screaming and tearing at his chains yet again.

“I love you…” she whispered faintly. “But this is for the best.”

And then she turned and ran, leaving the person she both loved and despised behind forever as his screams echoed off the cavern walls.

“How much longer is she going to be like this hyung?”

The voice was murky and distant.

“I don’t know…” You heard another voice answer, and it was just as far away as the first.

“Her body is weaker than ours so it’s probably just taking her a bit longer, okay?” A third voice swam into your head through the darkness.

The first replied, “But it’s been two days.”

You knew that voice…

Where did you know that voice from?

“I know… just… just give her time. She’ll come back to us soon Tae.”

Tae…

A handsome face with sharp, blue eyes and a boxy smile flashed in your memory.

TaeTae… Taehyung.

Through the obscuring blackness that overtook your senses, you heard footsteps approach. They sounded dull and weighted, almost like they were in slow motion.

“Have you seen Kook?”

Cook? Is there a chef on the loose?

Someone sighed next to you. “He’s um, letting out his anger again.”

“For Exia’s sake, Kook’s going to kill him before we can get any information.”

No, not ‘cook’… Kook… Kookie…

Burgundy hair. Peridot eyes. Rough exterior. Gentle hands. Playful soul.

Jungkook.

The black started lessening and your senses sharpened.

The world slowly began to become clear.

You could hear the leaves and the birds and the bugs.

Could feel the sunlight warming your skin.

The wind whispering against your face.

A hand clasping your own.

A thumb softly moving across your knuckles.

“Jin hyung went to keep an eye on him.”

Was that Hobi’s voice?

You slowly inhaled through your nose as your eyelids fluttered open.

Squinting through the sunlight that contrasted so immensely with the darkness you had been floating in, you registered a combination of treetops, clouds, and a blue sky above you.

Letting out a miniscule groan at the bright light attacking your retinas, you realized you were resting on your back. A blanket was spread over your body and another was bunched underneath your head as a makeshift pillow.

The hand holding yours tightened as the sound of sleepy distress left your mouth. “Little scorja…?”

Rolling your head to the side, you let your gaze meet a pair of hopeful, blue eyes and you blinked slowly before whispering, “Hey, TaeTae.”

While he gasped at your response, you sent him a tender, but weak smile, and let your eyes drift down to where your hand was being held by his. Shifting your hand in his grasp, you gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Then, with a strangled grunt, you tried to raise your body so you were sitting up. Unsurprisingly, your body creaked and groaned in protest; not used to movement after lying sill for so long. Noticing your struggle, Tae was quick to aid you with a hand on your back.

You grimaced as your entire body ached. Fucking hell, I’m sore.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

After you managed to sit up with the Tae’s help, you turned your stiff neck to the side to see Namjoon showing off his dimples with warm, yellow eyes.

“Hi, Joo-wait I died!?” You tried to shriek out your sentence, but your voice came out broken and cracked from misuse.

You started coughing because of how utterly dry your throat was, moaning in between the forceful expulsions of air due to how they jerked your sore muscles. While Tae cursed and let go of your hand to scramble to find his canteen, Namjoon’s eyes widened and he held his hands up.

“No, no, no! Oh my goddess, that was really poor choice of wording. I just meant like ‘Yay! You’re conscious again,” Namjoon quickly explained as he winced at himself.

You felt your shoulders drop in relief and Tae returned and held the opening of the canteen to your lips. He gradually tipped it up so cool water flowed into your mouth. After a couple seconds of guzzling the heavenly liquid, you raised your hand to tell him to stop.

While you swallowed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, you realized something.

“How am I able to understand you guys if I’ve been unconscious? And how am I speaking your language right now?” You looked back to the leader of the kiela and tilted your head in confusion.

Namjoon proceeded to tell you that since they weren’t sure when you would wake up, they had been placing the yellow language petal in your mouth every morning. They hadn’t wanted you to wake up and not be able to communicate immediately, so they basically force-fed you the magic petal the past two days. You nodded in understanding at him then made grabby hands at the canteen in Tae’s grasp. The blue-eyed Saeni chuckled deeply and handed you the object as your eyes wandered to take in your surroundings.

A little to your right, Mingi was sitting in the shade quietly watching you. His hazel eyes lit up and he gave you a nod when you turned to him. You tipped the canteen toward him with a tiny grin and continued to sweep the area with your eyes. As you twisted around, all you saw was the mass of trees and the beautiful temple, but as you rotated all the way to look behind you, and unexpected sight greeted you.

Sitting on the ground with his hands bracing his weight behind him was the kiela’s spy. When your eyes met his light brown orbs, he smiled brightly and waved, but quickly returned his attention to the person fast asleep in his lap. His hand kept alternating between gently tracing patterns on the Saeni’s arm and brushing his mint hair out of his face.

Seeing what your eyes were fondly glued to, Namjoon softly said, “You know, you did almost die though…”

His comment made your body stiffen and you took a deep breath while turning back to face the yellow-eyed male as he described how Yoongi had made it to you just as you were on the edge between life and death. You had just lost so much blood and Tae hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding. Not with how large and deep the cut was to your thigh. Not with how the draikensu’s knife had gone entirely through your forearm.

Yoongi was already tired and drained from fighting after conjuring the shield, so he didn’t have much juice left in him. Though, somehow, he was able to stop the bleeding and mend some of your flesh before he had passed out form exhaustion.

Memories of your flayed skin and a puncturing blade burned behind your eyes. You shuddered and glanced to your leg and arm to see them wrapped tightly with bandages.

The leader of the kiela nodded at the wrappings and said that after a couple hours of involuntary sleep, Yoongi had woken and immediately worked on healing more of you until he collapsed yet again. Then he did it again a few hours later. And he continued to do that until he was sure you wouldn’t die or lose a limb.

“They’re still not fully healed, since Yoongi hasn’t been able to recharge completely, but there won’t be any permanent damage.”

You tenderly touched the bandages on your arm and nodded before going to take another sip of water. Though as you began to tip the canteen back you froze as you remembered why you had gotten these wounds in the first place. The canteen in your hand was slowly lowered to your lap while your pulse sped up, and you looked between Tae and Namjoon.

“Where’s Jimin?” You asked them shakily, fear beginning to ebb and flow within you. “Why isn’t he here? Is he… did he…?”

Tae quickly wrapped his arms around you and crushed you into a hug, and the action only made more dread blossom in your heart. Your throat tightened as tears began to leak down your cheeks, and all you could think of was how limp Jimin had looked after he fell. How lifeless. Tae pulled you closer and began murmuring sweet nothings to try to calm you down.

Choking back your sobs as your body trembled, you did your best to compose yourself but failed. “He… he’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Huh?” Tae leaned away slightly so he could look at you with confused, furrowed brows. “Chim hyung isn’t dead.”

Your jaw dropped and it seemed like your entire self paused for a moment; needing time to reset after hearing him.

“W-What?” You hiccupped through your tears and shock.

Before Tae could answer, Namjoon spoke up. “He just broke his leg badly, oh and a few ribs too, and had a nasty concussi-”

Mingi suddenly coughed loudly and gave Namjoon a pointed look before finishing for the leader. “But he’s perfectly fine and alive, thanks to you.”

He’s alive. He’s alive. Oh my fucking goddess, he’s alive.

The Saeni holding you leaned back in and gave your cheek a comforting peck then he smoothed some of your hair away from your wet face while you sniffled and rubbed your eyes.

“Well, where the hell is he? I wanna see him.”

Namjoon grimaced slightly and looked away from you. “He, uh, blames himself for what happened to you and is taking it pretty hard.” The male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Every time he’s seen you or saw how tolling it’s been on Yoongi to heal you, he feels even worse. So, he’s been staying away, basically isolating himself from everyone with the exception of Jiae and Chungha.”

You released a long breath and hung your head as you absorbed Namjoon’s words.

Of course, he has to blame himself for something that isn’t his fault. That’s such a Jimin thing to do.

“Alright, well… that’s just fucking fantastic. And Jungkook? Where is he?”

Tae scooted back from you a bit and held your hands but looked down as he gave you an answer. “After you passed out, Kook kind of… lost it. I didn’t see a lot of it because I was so focused on you, but he punched the draikensu that hurt you until he was unconscious and… and then he went around and finished the rest. But the way he did it… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

You saw Mingi shake his head out of the corner of your eye. “It was like he turned into something else. Went berserk. It was a bit terrifying honestly.”

The guard hesitated to continue but you gave him a nod. So, he went on to describe how after the few remaining draikensu had been wiped out by his blades, he had returned to the only one still breathing: the one who had hurt you. Jungkook had stalked up to the unconscious male with blood-soaked hands and furious eyes. Mingi, Jin, and Namjoon had to step in and restrain the maknae from killing the draikensu. They understood Jungkook’s desperation to end the male’s life… but they needed him alive for questioning. After wrestling with the enraged youngest member for several minutes, the three of them managed to bring Jungkook to the other side of the temple. There, Jungkook had punched the temple’s stone exterior and begun yelling at them to let him see. When they didn’t, he had collapsed to the ground and fisted his burgundy hair in his hands. He had gone completely silent besides the sounds of his strained, labored breaths, and had stayed that way until Tae came around and informed everyone that you were in a somewhat stable condition.

Then, similar to Jimin, every time Jungkook saw you he would get upset… only his anger wasn’t directed at himself. It was at the draikensu who had maimed you. Whenever the anger, stress, and worry from the situation built up within him, he would go release it by essentially beating the shit out of the draikensu they were now holding captive.

And, apparently, that’s what he was doing at this very moment.

You deeply inhaled and looked into Namjoon’s concerned yellow eyes. “Let me see him. Please.”

You limped your way through the temple halls, using one hand to brace yourself against the stony walls as you did so. The Saeni had all offered to help walk you to the room they were keeping the draikensu locked up in, but you declined. You wanted to go alone. Plus, your leg wasn’t too bad. Yeah, it still hurt, but it was manageable. And it was leagues better than it had been the last time you were conscious.

Damn, Yoongi really is amazing… I need to remember to thank him when he’s awake later.

Fortunately, the pathway to the room wasn’t blocked by any tree roots or honeysuckle vines, so you didn’t have to strain your body and climb around anything. Yet, regardless of the seemingly easy path, your breaths were still labored as you made your way through the innards of the temple. It annoyed you. Feeling weak, that is.

But, hey, it beats being a lifeless corpse, so I’ll take it.

While you shuffled through the hallways, you enjoyed the floral scent that permeated the stuffiness of the ancient structure. And as you continued placing one foot slowly in front of the other, you watched the specks of dust float in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the many cracks and windows.

After making your way down several halls, you rounded a corner and paused your steps for a millisecond when you saw Jin sitting down with his back against the wall. His forearms were resting on his knees as his raven-haired head leaned back against the stone behind him. His dark eyes had been closed when you first turned the corner, but they opened and shifted to you as you started making your way over. Once he registered who you were, he shot to his feet and jogged down the hallway to pull you into a short hug.

Giggling, you returned the gesture and wrapped your arms around him briefly. “Hey there, Papa Jin.”

“It’s really good to see you up and about, little scorja. You had us super worried.”

You smiled at him as you stepped back, careful not to place too much weight on your still-healing leg.

You nudged him with your uninjured arm and cocked a brow teasingly. “What are you doing out here, hmm? I thought you’re supposed to be watching Kookie?”

Jin’s expression darkened and he let out a sigh. “Didn’t want to watch. It’s not a pretty sight, so I’m just listening to make sure he doesn’t go too far.” He tapped his ear, making his small silver hoop shake.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just gave him a tiny nod in understanding.

“I’m assuming you’re here to see him, yeah?”

You nodded again and looked past him down the hallway.

“Are you sure you want to see him right now? Like I said, it’s not exactly a pretty sight.”

You brought your eyes back to the male before you and affirmed that you did.

I want to see him. I need to see him… and he needs to know that I’m okay and awake.

Jin pursed his lips in thought for a few heartbeats then raised his hand to your shoulder. “Alright, little scorja¸ I’ll head back to give you two some privacy. Just make sure Kook doesn’t kill the bastard.” He gave your shoulder a light squeeze then stepped around you and walked down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

You inhaled slowly then released all the air in your lungs in one, strong huff as you began moving toward your destination. Toward Jungkook.

You reached the end of the hallway and turned left, your eyes now aimed at the opening at the end of the new hall. As your limping steps neared the doorway, you started hearing grunts of exertion and the thumping of knuckles hitting meaty skin. And they only increased in volume as you advanced further.

Finally, you arrived at the opening and the sounds of ragged breaths, moans, and pain were loud and clear. Steeling yourself, you placed a hand on the corner and peeked inside the room.

The smell of iron hit you and rapidly replaced the soft, honeysuckle scent of the temple. In the corner of the room, Jungkook crouched over the draikensu, who’s wrists and ankles were bound with rope. One hand was twisted in the male’s ripped shirt at the collar, the other was fisted and repeatedly smashing into the male’s swollen and puffy face. Even in the low light of the room, you could see how bruised and thrashed Jungkook’s knuckles were. The skin split and oozing blood. A testament to how hard and often he was hitting the draikensu who had attacked you.

Blood was staining the back of Jungkook’s hands and it was smeared across the draikensu’s face. The red liquid was leaking out of the male’s cracked lips in spitty dribbles while his eyes rolled back into his head from Jungkook’s assaults.

“Did you think you could get away with it? With going after them? Hurting my family?” Jungkook hissed at the bleeding, broken male as he brought his fist down yet again.

When he didn’t get a reply, Jungkook growled and heaved the draikensu up, pushing the barely conscious male into the wall. Before the draikensu could crumple to the ground, the Jungkook kneed the male in the gut and threw a powerful right hook into his jaw. Only then did Jungkook allow the draikensu to collapse to the floor in a heap of bloody, bruised, and limp flesh.

As he stood over the draikensu, you could see his shoulders rising and falling heavily with his breaths.

You took a tiny step inside the room. “If he’s dead, he won’t be able to say anything useful, you know?”

All the muscles in Jungkook’s body stiffened before he whipped around to stare at you in shock, though it quickly morphed back into a hardened expression. His jaw ticked and his green eyes glinted dangerously while you fully entered the room.

“If he’s dead, he can’t hurt you.”

You stared at each other, neither of you making a move… but you saw his hand twitch toward his ruby-hilted dagger.

You rolled your eyes. “But if he’s de-”

“No.” Jungkook cut you off and he wrapped his hand around the dagger’s handle and gripped it so tightly more blood leaked out from the openings on his knuckles. “He hurt you. He deserves to die.”

You blinked at him while he looked away and took several deep breaths. Slowly releasing his dagger, he brought his peridot eyes back to you. He seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before rushing over and pulling you against his chest. Strong arms enwrapped you as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you placed your arms around him and closed your eyes while inhaling his familiar scent of steel and flowers. I was obscured a bit by the overwhelming scent of blood, but it still managed to both comfort you and send your heart into a frenzy.

Both of you stood in each other’s embrace for what seemed like a lifetime, but the moment was shattered as a manic laughter rose up and echoed throughout the room.

Jungkook untangled himself from you and looked behind him as you gazed past his shoulder. The draikensu was chuckling at the two of you while more blood seeped out of his mouth and onto his chin.

“I understand why it’s always you who pays me visits.” The male spat blood on the floor and smiled in a perverse way while propping himself up awkwardly due to his restrained wrists. “It’s because I almost killed your whore.”

Instantly, you noticed the way Jungkook narrowed his eyes and his tensed his body. He took a step toward the male, but you hastily grabbed his hand and yanked him back. The fucker was just goading Jungkook on, but he was too angry to realize it. Much to your surprise, though, the burgundy-haired Saeni let you hold him back and although he kept his focus on the draikensu, he threaded his fingers through yours.

The beaten male’s blown out and wild eyes dropped to your linked hands and he barked out more laughter. “Ah, you get put on a leash when she’s around, huh?”

Jungkook’s fingers tightened around your own and you heard him emit a low growl. You could tell he was about two seconds away from exploding, so before that could happen, you peeled your hand from his and approached the draikensu, doing your best to conceal your limp. You stood over the male, who showed off his crimson-stained teeth to you.

Tilting your head to the side, you smirked. “Actually, it’s me who needs the leash most of the time.”

Then, you raised your good leg and kicked the male straight in his bruised, puffy face, causing his head to snap back into the stone wall. The force of your kick made you lose what little consciousness he had left, and he slumped to the side with his eyes closed and mouth shut.

Placing your foot back on the floor, you let out a small groan as you returned your weight to your uninjured leg. Swiveling on your heels, you limped your way over the blood-puddled floor back to Jungkook who was gawking at you in awe. You murmured a ‘let’s go’ as you hobbled past him out of the room and into the hallway. Chuckling, Jungkook followed you out and caught up beside you, flexing his bruised, bloody knuckles as you walked side by side.

The Saeni blew out a puff of air as the scent of iron began to dissipate and be replaced with honeysuckle. “Is it bad that watching you do that kind of turned me on?”

His voice was light and joking, so you knew he wasn’t being serious. Though, you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Yet again, you found yourself being so confused by the male next to you. It seemed like a never-ending, recurring theme.

All you knew was that you were tired. The walking was making you tired. Seeing Jungkook like that made you tired. The kick made you tired. His comment made you tired. You were just… tired.

Sighing, you replied in a drained voice, “Seeing as how you don’t find me attractive… yeah, maybe a little.”

You forced out a small laugh and turned to the side to see Jungkook’s reaction, but he was no longer beside you. You slowed and fully turned to see that he had stopped walking and was looking down at the dusty floor. His hands were clenched, and you furrowed your brows. A couple moments passed before he finally lifted his head and you were confused to see conflict swimming in his peridot eyes.

Again, you found yourselves just staring at each other. Not moving. Not saying anything.

All of the sudden, Jungkook muttered to himself, relaxed his hands, and then, still without saying anything to you, walked over and scooped you into his arms bridal-style.

“Hey! What the hell!?” You smacked his chest lightly.

He glanced down at you briefly as he started making his way through the temple halls. “You were limping.”

“So?” You scoffed.

“So, I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”

You huffed and began pouting, crossing your arms over your chest as well as you could while being squished against Jungkook’s body. Yet as he continued walking, you couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure as your injured leg was finally free from your weight. There was still a dull throbbing, but the absence of the constant, piercing pain made your eyes begin to droop and before you knew it, you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

But you were just so tired. Too tired to fight the urge to sleep that beginning to take you over.

So, you didn’t fight it.

You whispered, “Thanks, Kookie…” and allowed your eyes to close and your head to lean into his chest.

Then you fell into an easy sleep, lulled by the strong beating of his heart.

“We need to decide who’s going to do it.”

“I would, I really would. But…”

“It’s okay, Tae, we know why you can’t, you don’t have to say it.”

Once again, you found yourself awakening in the middle of a conversation. You stirred lightly as you slowly came to your senses.

“I can do it. She saved my life after all.”

Namjoon.

“She saved mine too. And she’s my best friend.”

Jimin? JIMIN!? Okay, time to wake the fuck UP, Y/N. Jimin is here!

“Hyungs… let me do it. Please.”

Jungkook.

You forced your body to roll over onto your stomach and you raised your arms above your head, groaning pleasantly at the stretch. Once your little cat stretch was over, you opened your eyes and tucked your arms beneath your head to gaze up at the kiela. Luckily, it was now evening time, so you weren’t attacked by the bright harshness of the midday sun like last time.

“Mmmmm.” You sleepily moaned as you tried to process the conversation you heard. “What are you guys talking about?”

Every member snapped his jaw shut and looked at each other, silently urging someone else to say something. Jin nudged Namjoon with his foot, Yoongi yawned and gestured to Hobi, Jimin forcefully pushed Tae forward, and Jungkook just pointed at Yoongi with wide eyes.

You scoffed and pushed yourself up, resting your chin in your palm and looking at the collection of males before you with narrowed eyes. “Seriously?”

Why are they being so weird and sketchy?

“Uhhh…” They all continued to look between them.

Namjoon even coughed awkwardly.

Rolling your eyes, you took in an exaggerated breath through your nose. “Do you smell it?” The kiela all looked at you dumfounded. “That smell. A kind of smelly smell. The kind of smelly smell that smells…”

For Exia’s sake.” Jimin muttered as he caught on to what you were saying.

You raised a brow at the group of Saeni. “Suspiscious.”

“Holy shit, you didn’t do the full reference.” Your best friend pushed his apricot hair back with his hand, but when he realized your eyes were on him, he froze.

You took him in, noting that his leg was no longer twisted at an unnatural angle. He actually looked like he was, indeed, completely fine. While you studied him, he blinked at you and his surprised expression changed into a guilt-ridden one.

Suddenly, Jimin looked at his wrist and stammered, “Aw shit, look at the time! I need to get back to Jiae like right now, so bye!”

He shoved his way through his gaggle of brothers and began booking it out of there, like he was desperate to get away from you.

“PARK JIMIN!” You staggered to your feet, ignoring the flash of pain in your thigh, and pointed a finger at the boy menacingly. “If you do not bring your bubble butt back over here so we can talk I swear I’m going to hobble after you for all eternity like that demon thing from It Follows!”

The apricot head stopped in his tracks and slowly looked back at you in fear. You crossed your arms, lifted a brow, and tapped your foot on the ground impatiently.

Gulping, Jimin immediately fast-walked back and plopped down on the dirt in front of you while muttering about how much that movie scared him and how much he hated it in return

Snickering to yourself at how well you knew how to deal with Jimin’s stubborn ass, you sheepishly turned your attention to the other members. They had no clue what you had just threatened their brother with, but they all seemed a little startled and hesitant to find out.

“Um, would you guys mind maybe giving us a minute?”

It was like they all snapped out of a daydream simultaneously and they nodded their consent and began walking off in different directions. As Tae dragged Jungkook away toward the creek, you saw the burgundy-haired Saeni gazing over his shoulder at you so you sent him a tiny wave. Once they disappeared into the trees, you were about to go sit in front of your sulking best friend, but you suddenly remembered your mental promise from earlier. As fast as you could, you limped after Yoongi and Hobi, almost managing to trip over a rock in the process and calling out the former’s name along the way. The pair stopped when they heard you, and when you were close enough, you threw your arms around the mint-haired Saeni. Yoongi let out a grunt at the impact and although you wanted to squeeze him tightly to show your gratitude, you didn’t since you knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, after a couple seconds, you released the surprised male and just smiled at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sparkle Hands. For not letting me croak just yet.”

Then you winked and gimped your way back to Jimin, who was watching you in amusement. Though, as soon as you returned your focus to him, he dropped his gaze to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Your steps slowed as you approached, unsure as to what to say now that you had him alone and with you. Ultimately, you decided not to speak as you sat down across from your best friend, allowing him the opportunity to say something first.

You waited, watching the sun begin to dip lower and lower in the distance.

You waited, listening as the bugs became more and more active.

You waited and waited and waited.

Until finally, Jimin spoke.

“I knew you shouldn’t have come to Illain. I knew you were going to get hurt.” He still didn’t look up from his hands. “And it’s all my fault.”

You blew a raspberry and replied, “And if hadn’t come then who would’ve saved your sorry ass?”

Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere failed, as he only let his head fall further.

Way to go, you dumb bitch. You made him feel worse.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have saved me. Maybe you should have just let me die.”

You sucked in a breath as his self-deprecating tone filled your ears and you stared at him with eyes wide in disbelief.

Jimin...

“Maybe it all would be easier for everyone. For Exia’s sake, I don’t even know what I’m doing! I don’t even know how to fucking unlock the fucking secret that only I’m supposedly able to unlock! I’m not even a full Saeni and I never even met my damn father! How do we even know I can do it!? I-I just I don’t know what to do and everyone is relying on me to figure this out and if you had died, I would have been so lost, and I was so scared when I woke up and saw Yoongi frantically working over you.” Jimin tugged at his hair harshly then finally raised his head and you flinched at the pure pain and guilt that filled his brown eyes. “When I saw you… I thought you were actually dead. You were fucking covered in blood and your eyes were closed and I thought I had lost you… and then I learn that you were hurt because of me! Because I’m a goddamn failure that can’t do anything right! You got hurt because of me… so, how can it not be my fault!? It is my fault! I almost killed you… my own best friend… my family.”

Tears were dripping off his sharp jaw and he was breathing laboriously by the time he was finished. His anguished eyes looked into yours, desperate for you to affirm his statements. He felt helpless and wanted to wallow in his pain. He wanted you to confirm his words. He wanted you to agree that you almost died because of him. That you now hated him as a result. Because if you hated him, you would stay away. And then you would finally be safe from harm.

Seeing him like that shattered your heart and you felt your throat thicken as the strong boy you’ve known and cared for for years fell apart before your eyes.

You bit your lip, wanting to do nothing more than hold him in your arms and tell him how it wasn’t his fault, that you didn’t blame him… but you also knew how his mind functioned. You could repeat how nobody blamed him over and over and over until your voice was hoarse, and it would have no impact on him. He was just too stubborn and in his own head. Only he would be able to forgive himself for something he didn’t even do and change his perspective.

You let out a puff of air as you kept your gaze trained on Jimin and you clapped your hands together. “Alright, I’m only going to say this once, so listen the fuck up Slim Jim. In the end, it’s up to you whether or not you pull your head out of your own ass and believe me. Just know that I, in no way, shape, or form, blame you. What happened isn’t your fault.” He went to argue, but you sternly spoke over him. “It was entirely my decision. I was the one who leapt off the roof. I was the one who jumped in front of the knife. I was the one who decided to risk my life. Not you. Not anyone else. Me. My decision.”

Jimin tightly shut his eyes, causing more tears to leak out from the corners.

“It’s up to you to accept that or not. But I don’t blame you and I don’t regret what I did either.” You reached out and gently squeezed his knee.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can completely accept that yet.” Jimin replied in a soft, tiny voice as he sniffled and reopened his eyes to stare at where your hand rested on his knee. “But… I’ll try to.”

You patted his knee and smiled at him. “Okay.”

Jimin took a big breath and sloppily wiped at his face with his fingers before wrapping a hand around your wrist and tugging you forward so he could embrace you.

He held you tenderly as he whispered how sorry he was for not being by your side the past few days. Ignoring the protest in your forearm and thigh, you secured all four of your limbs around the boy and hugged him hard. You told him that he didn’t need to worry about it and that you were just so glad he was alive. Then you wacked him on the back with your hand, making him yelp in surprise, and you scolded him for scaring you and telling him to never do that again.

Jimin giggled. “No promises, but I’ll do my best as long as you never do that again either.”

You leaned back so you could look the half-Saeni in his tear-reddened eyes and you stuck your tongue out at him. “No promises.”

Your best friend just sighed and mumbled about how he could never win with you.

You poked him in the arm. “Hey, Namjoon said you broke your leg, some ribs, and had a concussion, so…”

“So how am I walking around A-okay?”

You nodded.

“Ah, since hyung was, um… preoccupied… with you and my injuries weren’t too severe, Hobi hyung got me all healed up.”

You began cooing at Jimin, pinching his cheeks and commenting about how older brother took such good care of him. The apricot head rolled his eyes and swatted your hands away, but even though he tried to appear annoyed, he couldn’t hide the grin that teased his lips.

Smiling back, you slowly unwound yourself from him, careful not to disturb your wounds any more than you already had. Once you were successfully back to your original spot, Jimin asked if you were good and you pursed your lips and nodded while making a noise of confirmation.

Although you told him you were feeling fine, the apricot head still told you he was going to find Yoongi and have him check on you just in case. You blew out another raspberry and settled back on your sleeping mat as Jimin stood and brushed off the dirt from his pants.

“Be honest, you just want an excuse to leave me so you can go find your girl.” You teased him while wiggling your brows.

Jimin laughing, making his eyes squished closed and you looked at him fondly. “Maybe. But you know you’ll always be my girl too, right? Unless, of course, Kook’s not okay with that.”

He winked at you and you groaned, covering your face with your hands before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

Between your fingers you hissed, “Fucking hell, stop! He could hear you!”

“Mhmm, sure, whatever you say… Mrs. Jeon.”

“Okay, yup, please go. Leave me.” You buried your head in your arms to hide your growing embarrassment.

Mrs. Y/N Jeo-HAHA NOPE. Not going there. Cease all brain activity.

Jimin laughed again and bid you goodbye, telling you he’d see you in a bit. Though before he could get far, you bolted upright and called out his name so he would look back at you.

“Please try to accept it, okay?”

He sent you a sad smile and nodded. “Okay.”

Then he turned around and walked off into the trees to find his mint-haired brother as you collapsed back onto your mat and stared at the slowly darkening sky.

Please try to.

A little while later, you had all just finished eating dinner prepared by the one and only Papa Jin. Before you had started eating, though, Jiae had rushed over and pulled you into a soft hug, expressing her happiness that you were okay. She also thanked you for being brave and saving Jimin. You just quietly hugged her back until she was satisfied and let you go. As she hurried over to where Jimin sat, Chungha passed you and you had to snort at how she didn’t even spare you a single glance. It was just so typical Chungha.

Afterwards, you made your way to your usual spot between Tae and Jungkook, your strides not as strained as they had been a couple hours prior. Jimin had kept his word and sent Yoongi over to check on you after your conversation and the magic user had done a little more healing on you, much to your protest. You didn’t want the mint-haired Saeni to exhaust himself even more, but he had insisted until you gave in. He really had a knack for getting his way. When the soft blue glow had begun to emit from his hands, you had debated whether or not to bring up the kiela’s spy, but in the end, you decided to keep your mouth shut because Yoongi was tired. And tired Yoongi definitely did not want to discuss feelings.

As you had dragged yourself over to your usual spot and sat between the two Saeni who were joking with each other like they typically did, you had almost cried at the smell of Jin’s cooking. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the delicious scent hit your nose. The smell had made you salivate so much, you had practically vibrated in excitement when Jin poured you a little cup of stew. He had been cautious not to give you too much since he didn’t want you getting sick by eating a lot after not doing so for a couple days. It was a good thing he thought of that too, because you would have tried to eat the entire pot. Snatching the cup out of his hands, you had been eager to stuff yourself, but before you did, you made sure to turn to the decently-sized campfire and pour some of the food into the flames. You had murmured a thank you to Exia and Illai for giving you strength and for keeping you alive and asked them to continue watching over you. Jungkook had been the only one to notice your actions and he smiled before returning his eyes to his meal, not saying a word as you sat beside him and began spooning the stew into your mouth.

Now, as you rubbed your full, content tummy and held a discussion with Tae about who the best starter Pokémon was, you felt a nudge at your side.

What does Jungkook want now?

Sure, he had been quiet at the start of the meal, but as the sky grew darker, he became more and more loud and touchy. Constantly poking and interrupting you, almost like he was desperate for your attention.

He is such a little shit sometimes.

At first, you disregarded his nudging because detailing why Mudkip was your preferred pick was much more important than dealing with a whiny Jungkook. Eventually, his nudges increased in power, so your entire body swayed each time he touched you.

“For fuck’s sake! What do you need, you big baby!?” You finally had enough and turned to the green-eyed male.

His lips dropped into a pout and he pointed at himself. “I’m not a big baby, I’m a big boy! You’ve said it yourself!”

“That sentence was basically a direct example of baby boy culture,” you muttered to yourself before shaking your head. “Anywho, what do you keep violently nudging me for?”

Jungkook pouted even harder, crossing his arms over his chest. Usually the action would make him appear bigger and bulge his muscles, but for some reason it just made his seem soft and squishy at the moment.

“Not until you say it.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes at the childish Saeni. “Say what?”

“That I’m a big boy!” His green eyes widened cutely.

Oh my goddess.

You heard Tae struggle to contain a snort next to you.

You inhaled and closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to your forehead for a moment as you collected yourself. “Alright, fine. You’re such a big boy, Kookie.”

The male instantly uncrossed his arms and looked mighty pleased with himself as Tae wheezed and covered his mouth.

Jungkook’s face turned serious as he rose to his feet, grabbing your hand and pulling you up too in the process. “Come on, I want to show you something. Hop up.” He turned around and presented you his back.

Mhmm. Tell the girl with the injured leg to ‘hop.’ You mentally rolled your eyes but did as he instructed.

Securing his hands underneath your thighs, he made sure you were properly hoisted as you tucked your chin against his shoulder. Satisfied you wouldn’t be going anywhere, he began strutting off into the trees, not even giving you a chance to say a decent goodbye to the others.

Then you, or more accurately he, trekked through the forest, his steps quiet but hasty. It was getting darker and darker by the minute; the sun was finally setting and casting an aurora of colors in the sky.

You patted Jungkook’s firm chest twice as he stepped up and over a fallen tree and you giggled in his ear. “Is this the part where you take me deep into the woods and murder me?”

The green-eyed male shivered at the sensation of your breath ghosting against his neck before chuckling at you. “You’re awful cheerful over the thought of being possibly murdered.”

“What can I say? I love a good murder mystery.”

“I don’t think it would be much of a mystery since everyone saw you leave on my back.” Jungkook laughed again, the sound like music to your ears, and shook his head, which caused his burgundy hair and earrings to sway back and forth from the movement.

“Damn, that’s true.” You frowned and dropped your chin back onto his shoulder as a mass of leaves glided against your side. “Alright, don’t murder me then, there would be no fun involved.”

“I… you’re really fucking something else. But hey, do me a favor and close your eyes, okay?”

You did and he continued to walk for another minute, steps still silent and still not telling you where he was taking you. You heard him brush aside a few branches, making the leaves shake against each other. He took a couple more steps forward then softly told you to open your eyes.

You peeked through your lashes then gasped and shot your eyes open all the way as your back went ramrod straight. The two of you were on a cliff with a perfect view of the setting sun. The sky was like a watercolor painting; fading from a rich black, to a dark navy, to a bright red, and then a delicate orange. You could see the forest stretched out below you, still somewhat visible in the dying sunlight.

“Wow.” You gaped at the sight before you.

Jungkook smiled shyly. “You like it?”

You blinked in amazement and tapped his shoulder to let him know you wanted to be put down. “It’s so beautiful, how could I not like it?”

The Saeni eased you to the ground and watched as you walked to the edge of the cliff so you could sit down and swing your legs below you.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Jungkook laughed nervously as he joined you at the edge. “I, um, you went through a lot, so I wanted you to experience something nice.”

You felt your cheeks flush and you smiled warmly at the male as a gust of wind caused goosebumps to form on your skin.

Or maybe it’s not because of the wind…

Jungkook stared out at the horizon, the orange glow causing his green eyes to sparkle and his hair to appear pinker than ever.

“You know, I was really scared you were going to die. Especially after hearing you whisper my name. I thought that that was it. That you were gone. And I didn’t know what how to deal with it. I’m sure hyungs told you, but I sort of went crazy. Instead of being there for you, instead of trying to save you, I left and went on a rampage.” He sighed into the sunset. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You exhaled slowly as you studied his features before grabbing ahold of one of his hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m alive. Everything’s okay.”

He smiled faintly but kept his eyes forward. “Regardless, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” He laughed at himself weakly. “Fuck, I even had a dream that you died. That no matter what I did, you kept dying. Over and over right in front of me. It was just the two of us and inky darkness, but I could never reach you in time.”

“Hey, but you did. You tackled the draikensu before he could kill me. You got to me in time.” You scooted closer to him, so your thighs were touching, and you intertwined your fingers with his.

“I guess I did…” He paused for a moment then cleared his throat. “Um, so this is random, but Tae’s told you about his mark, right?”

You looked at him in puzzlement, wondering why he changed the topic to that all of the sudden. “Uh, the one his father gave him to share the draeva connection? That mark?”

Jungkook nodded and opened his mouth but hesitated and closed it. You felt his fingers tighten around yours a little as he let out a breath and opened his mouth again.

Then he told you the kiela had talked and unanimously agreed that they wanted to induct you as an honorary member of the kiela.

Your eyes bugged out. “Wait, WHAT!?”

He smiled at your outburst and raised his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “That’s what we were talking about when you woke up earlier; we were deciding who would give you the mark.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!? WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME THEN!?” You yanked your hand out of his and fully turned your body to face him with both your eyebrows raised high.

Is that even possible!? Or allowed!?

It was getting so dark, but you could still make out the faint blush that touched his cheeks and he continued rubbing his neck. “We, uh, hadn’t decided on who would give you the mark yet and didn’t want to say anything until we did.”

“Holy shit, okay wait, so I’m gonna have a connection to a draeva? To Illain!? Oh my fucking-wow, I never-wow… but that’s a big deal, right? The other person loses some of their connection, so who would do that for me?”

Jungkook dropped the hand that had been rubbing his nape and turned to fully face you as well. “Actually, everyone was willing, but… we decided it would be me.”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth in shock as he gave you a lopsided grin. You were speechless, touched, honored.

And Jungkook wants to give me the mark. He wants to share his connection with me.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you said, though it was muffled by your hand.

Jungkook snorted and peeled it away from your mouth but didn’t let go of your hand as you just blinked in incredulity at the whole thing.

“Um, can I ask why you?” You bit your lip as the wind picked up for a moment. “No offense, but why not Jimin?”

The male coughed at your question. “Oh, um… it’s because, uh…”

He avoided your gaze and started fidgeting; tapping his free fingers against his thigh, toying with the belt that held his dagger, playing with the pebbles on the ground next to him.

Cute.

“Because of…?” You inquired as you pursed your lips. “Is it because you’re my teacher or mentor or whatever?”

He abruptly stilled, his entire body tensing up. The only movement that came from him was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then, just as suddenly as he had stopped fidgeting, he brought his eyes back to you and just stared. You tilted your head to the side, trying to decipher what was going on in that burgundy head of his.

Not that I would ever be able to guess.

You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied him, and the action made his green eyes drop to your mouth. He let out a prolonged exhale and muttered ‘fuck it.’

Before you could blink, he raised his free hand, cupped your jaw, and leaned in.

Before you could think, he connected your lips harshly.

Before you could react, he moved back an inch.

It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs as his lips hovered above yours. The sounds of the universe shrunk until all that could be heard was the combination of your breaths and the thudding of your heart. You stared at him with wide eyes and his chest heaved up and down.

“Because of this,” whispered as he looked into your eyes.

Then he moved back in, attacking your lips with fervor. Your eyes instinctually closed while you tried to keep up with his demanding pace. Tingles erupted over your skin and you felt yourself grow dizzy. Whether it was from the lack of air or from the pure sensation of his lips against yours, you weren’t sure.

Dropping your hand, he tangled his fingers in your hair and tilted your head to his liking. He sucked on your bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth, adding just a hint of pain to the passionate pleasure of his ministrations. It made you softly moan, and you raised your hands to grip his arms and steady yourself. You felt the teasing of his tongue at the seam of your lips, and you immediately granted him access. You didn’t even attempt to take control. You just let him dominate you however he pleased. He groaned into your mouth at how easily you succumbed to him, and the sinful sound made you desperate for more.

More of his lips.

More of his tongue.

More of his touch.

More of him.

The hand that cupped your jaw moved higher, so that he held the side of your face. Suddenly, the harshness of his lips softened, and he slowed down. His kisses becoming longer and gentler, allowing you to catch your breath. Though it did nothing to lessen the shivers of pleasure racking your body nor the warmth surging within your heart. Nothing could quiet the explosion of sensation that was flowing and shuddering through you. Not when he was touching you, kissing you.

Then, he placed one last lingering peck on your swollen lips and pulled back. As he retreated and you struggled to control your breathing, the entirety of what he just did hit you. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, not sure of what just happened.

SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?

“W-Why would you do that?” You asked him shakily, partially because you were still breathless and partially because you were so scared he would hurt your heart… again.

He leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. “I…I lied.”

“Um…” You responded in a small voice. “Lied about what?”

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before staring straight into your eyes.

“I lied about not being attracted to you… fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea what you do to me.” You stilled as he tightened his fingers in your hair and swept his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen… and every single day you make me want you even more.”

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[9uk]

Where Are You?

⌲ summary : Kim Taehyung. That is the name of a nobody in school constantly carrying a camera around with him. Also, the name belonging to the guy who carried your last words

⌲ pairing : thirdeye!taehyung x reader

⌲ word count : 10k

⌲ genre: pinch of fluff, heavy angst

⌲ warnings : themes of depression, suicide, self-harm and paranormal activities. character death. taehyung can see ghosts that is.

⌲ a/n: this is quite different from what i usually write but i just needed to get the plot that has been bothering my head for months out of me. nonetheless, enjoy & feedback is always welcomed.

The way life works is a true wonder.

 Expect the unexpected, predict the unpredictable. It's all bound to happen one day, at a certain point of time in our very lives. You just have to catch that split moment, the millisecond on the dot—where a mini twist in your words or actions can bring about a very drastic change. It can be a tiny alteration that causes the downfall or rise of a situation. The choices we make for ourselves or others, is very much alike to a heavy dew sliding off a leaf and carelessly falling into stagnant water. The mini waves of the impact send the lily pads nearby dancing, a floating hibiscus petal to drift further into the unknown and push a sleeping fish a centimetre away from entering the opening of a heron's beak. It's the butterfly effect, minuscule yet major. Be it a coincidence or some cruel twisted joke god decided to play on you—you solemnly swear you heard a voice of another being in this house. A house you were supposedly alone in. It could be the cannibal. There is more than a fair share of emphasis placed on 'supposedly' because at this very moment, you are certain as heck that you are not the only one in here. Here being the old crooked house that sits alone by the edge of the second highest hill in town, standing obstinate to the ground despite the occasional flooding showers and hurricanes your region suffered. The old folks claim that the house belongs to a war veteran whose entire family starved while waiting for their sole bread-winner to come home. The man never made it back to his doorstep where his three children and spouse awaits, hope draining with every growl of their stomachs and in complete oblivion to the impending fall to the grave. Every so often, the family of five could be sighted behind the murky windows. However, there are also mediums who concluded from ridiculous superstitions and calculations of the house's location that a possible dead body could still be inside, and its vengeful spirit is bent on seeking retribution for the plain injustice of their murder. Depressed souls would see it as the way to the end, Blank minds and torn hearts enter the house with nothing but one wish—death. The number of suicides that occurred in the house is a little over a hundred—one hundred and three spirits to be exact, nothing more, nothing less—loitering within its four walls. There were instances of teenagers stepping foot into the forbidden site with hopeful hearts for a thrill and a video camera in hand, seeking for juicy content to gain views and be the first to break the belief — the bunch of kids were reported missing on the news a few hours after. The statistics are somewhat the building blocks to the infamous reputation it holds today. When the police went inside to search for the families' missing loved ones, it did not work out at all. In fact, the number rebelliously increased, the police force losing yet another one of their colleagues. 

That's when they decided that everyone is prohibited to enter, unless they carried a death wish. It is almost like the Suicide Forest in Japan, tarnishing those who visit with a conflicted soul. Even the authorities chose to not touch the house, claiming it was still on a long-term lease. And under whose name? 

They would never reveal.

The house became something everyone refuses to lay finger on, or even talk about. The ominousness it contained drove humans miles away, like a sleeping dragon not wanting to be bothered the slightest bit. It's almost like a door to a parallel universe or something. You did your homework regarding the possessed piece of property. The internet's local ghostbuster website shares more about the rumours circulating the house. 

You can't escape once you make it through the two front doors. This is as clear as day already, the number of missing bodies serving as solid evidence. Questions however, still bugged at your mind.

Why exactly is that? Were all the window sills locked? Or is the door just created to be one-way? Sometimes people are so caught up with their fantasies that they forget to look at things more logically. 

A cannibal was living inside. This is just a mere speculation, but it was not impossible. It seemed like the most rational explanation one could provide to the disappearance of people. Leftover bones can be easily cremated, destroying all traces of the deceased. But you had rather resort to jumping off a cliff or simply overdosing to kill yourself—than to ferociously be feasted on by your own kind. 

It was some kind of portal to another world. Although these kind of things were not scientifically proven, it was still a valid suspicion because nothing ever made sense about that creepy house. Maybe people went in and get sucked into another dimension or flung into hell. Maybe the books were right. As well as the shows and movies on television. Everybody was afraid, of what the gaunt and creaky relic held between its paint-flaked walls and dirt-smeared window panes, why people went in and never got out, why citizens were constantly missing—but the discovery couldn't be anything more valuable than a life. But you clearly cared a whole lot about yours, because you are not even batting a lash when you tell your friends that you were going to check the cursed place out. All you receive is the dropping of jaws and the heavy pleas for you to not go, because apparently ten years ago a man as bold as you executed the similar plan you had and- "Guess what Y/N," Woo-gi leaned across the table, the bowl of mashed potatoes shifting forward a little. "He died. Unnatural cause of death. His body was never found and the saddest thing is that the family couldn't even give him a proper burial or send him away in peace." Her attempted blazing eyes fixes on yours, and her fingers creep to the knife resting on the surface of the table cloth.  

Woo-gi is making the best efforts to get you to empathise with the family of the deceased man, knowing that trick works perfect on your soft putty heart. Lifting the cutlery up, she brings it down and mercilessly stabs into the piece of char-grilled pork chop for effect. There is a shredding sound of the piece of meat being torn apart by your dear pal. The vegetables at the side jump up in shock. "Gone. Just like that."

Her voice is a cold, menacing one which intended effect worked perfectly on your rather timid self, the bumps on your skin appearing unwillingly.

Her gaze finally drifts to the dish plate and leaves yours, allowing you to ponder over her words. In her final attempt to scare you out of the hasty decision, you only chew on your corn salad nonchalantly. She was right, it was a deadly risk but you wished you treasured your life as much as a normal person would. You didn't have any care in the world, dead or alive. So why not make the reason of your death be 'died exploring a haunted house', how cool and mysterious would that be on the headlines? "Sounds like a dream come true for me," You sweep the coleslaw you have no interest in to one side, isolated from the rest of the dish. Gone forever, just like that? You have been spending the past few years of your life sinking into the mattress and hoping the blankets would swallow you whole and cease your existence—what made her think that you would be afraid of something like that? Then you realise that your friends have no clue about your disorder. In fact, no one did. In their eyes, you were this outgoing girl who cracked plenty of jokes and lived with a happy family. At times, you would go overboard with your imagination but that's something people who felt constrained and suffocated often possess. Their stale life is the cause of their fantasies and aspirations running too wild.

But nobody would understand. She shakes her head and sighs, exasperated. It was like there were no words in the dictionary that can come together to bandage the open wound in your heart, or get rid of the black sticky substance bugging your insides since day one—even as a close friend, the most she can do is to pray for the best for you. No one can really help you out of this sunken pit, the route is yours to take.

"I'm telling you one last time," Woo-gi lunges forward to grab both of your hands, eyes glistening with worry, trying yet again, her utmost best to stop you in your dangerous expedition. For the last time. "Don't go."

Life works in mysterious ways, and you're the kind of person who would stubbornly step on a freshly mopped floor and try walk across it despite having a bright yellow caution sign shoved in your face. Maybe this would be the turning point in your life. A life which encompasses of...well, nothing much. The world's too tiring of a place to live in. And that is also why, you are in said haunted house, face to face with an unexpected human being. "Hey," Every drop of blood in your body freezes. It's the first thing you hear before a piercing scream leaves your chest, rattling the window panes. The sudden call startles the shit out of the shivering mess you were, your body jumping backwards out of reflex. You shun away from the piercing light being aimed straight into your eyes, arms coming up to block the sudden encounter. Cannibal? Cannibal! You shrieked and jumped back further upon realisation, making a beeline for the doors. Both feet took you there as fast as they could, the wooden planks beneath your heavy stomps threatening to snap. Except when you reach for the handle, the first rumour is proven to be true. The doors wouldn't budge. You shake them with all your might, only left with creaks and a stubborn obstruction to your fleeing. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest, with the knowledge that the monster is a few feet away from your panic-stricken form. "Just give up." The low voice appears behind you, the hairs on your back shooting up and your hands frozen. Why were you even so afraid? You wanted to die anyways. Nothing is able to coherently come out of your parched throat, only able to quiver in fear. "Do I really look that ugly?" The tone is derisive, so human-like and you think you may have overreacted. Whipping around, you are only met with bright white as a beam of light is pointed directly to your face. You may have been mistaken. But that doesn't stop you from feeling threatened. "Put that away." You commanded and once the shining path of white is directed to the ground, your hands slowly descend from shielding your face. "Kim Taehyung?" "Y/F/N?" The both of you speak out in unison upon the recognition, despite the low lighting playing as an obstacle. It was dark, but you can almost make out the look of shock on his face as he takes a moment to register your existence right in front of him. As for you, relief overwhelmed the surprise you felt and for once, you were thankful to see Kim Taehyung. A fair bit of questions were going through your mind now, and your heart was close to jumping out of your mouth any time soon. But somehow you managed to stay relatively calm. 

As long as Taehyung was standing there, looking at you with a face of confusion, you wanted to end your life faster to escape the interaction with this guy. Or to explain what in the world you were doing in a horrid place like here. God wouldn't let you die in peace, he had to let you bump into Taehyung minutes or hours—nobody knows—before your anticipated death. The only thing going through your mind is how you have to explain why you were inside the most forbidden house in town. Then, another thought flickers in your mind. What was he doing here then? It couldn't be... For some reason, he stands there, still astounded by your presence. Wait no, it had nothing to do with your presence. It was you. Just like how having a guest in here came off as no surprise to him, but the fact that it was you... You feel like you rendered him speechless, disbelief widening his eyes and parting his lips. He was acting strange. Just a few moments ago, he was telling you so confidently about the fate of the doors and now there was a 180 degree change in his vibe. He kept staring at you, the moonlight flaunting a light shimmer to his black orbs and you felt queasy under his relentless gaze—like he held some sort of power over your empty soul. You couldn't decipher just what is it in his eyes, your head hurt as you tried to think.

It was never the same case in school though. While you exuded an aura of confidence wherever you walked, leaving a trail of your floral scented shampoo and fruity perfume, Taehyung would keep his head low and try to blend in with the shadows. He didn't smell like anything, nor did he frequently speak. 

To his pals, at the very least. The moment you hear the name Kim Taehyung, the first word that comes to mind is eccentric. You weren't exactly someone to judge people in this manner, but you know him barely—only to the extent where you can only think of an adjective like that to describe him. You've seen him more than a couple of times around in school—always carrying a vintage camera around—but have never spoken a word to him. For an obvious reason, he was located in the best class—the one where the top students are—while you are in just another average class.

He was just another schoolmate to you. The both of you have never interacted during your whole journey in high school, except for that one time. However, you have only heard things about him. Unpleasant things that make your blood boil a little, because you feel like everyone should be treated equally no matter the circumstance.

One would say, "Kim Taehyung? You mean the guy who sits in the garden for an hour after school, waiting for a butterfly to land on his pinky finger? I mean, who even does that?"

Another would comment, "He's constantly talking to himself and his polaroid films, if that is even possible. Other than that, he either talks to flowers or trees. Sometimes, he eats by himself and then he raises his spoonful of rice to feed the person sitting opposite him—only that there isn't anyone there. Some girls screamed and ran away, even their boyfriends were scared of such a person. That is mainly why they didn't do anything bad to him.”

You didn’t have much thoughts about the guy, but you admired how he could be himself without the fear of being excluded from the norms of this society. He could find the comfort in being alone, and that was the type of peace you wish you possessed.

That one day, things blew out of proportion. It was a normal Tuesday, nothing extraordinary but school and sleep. You were seated with your usual group of friends during lunch, when suddenly a yell breaks through the canteen, followed by several laughters induced with pure evil. Almost the entire cohort turns to the infamous corner—just a small turn into the back kitchen where the trash is taken out by the vendors—the place where many students are dragged in there and come out with a  blue black to the eye and nasty purple patches all over their limbs.

The whole cafeteria slowly fills with hushed whispers and serious gossiping, heads turning to one another unable to drop the topic for now. Yoongi walks out from the corner, followed by a few of his friends of a milksop. Wussies, you silently remark on their terribly feigned outer strength and masks of bravery. Nothing but imbeciles, you curse them in your head. Yoongi and weaklings plop right next to you, the eyes from the surrounding tables discreetly catching up on the interaction between the both of you. "Y/N! You look gorgeous today." He tries to place his hand onto your waist but you quickly shun away from him. The small action itself caused the whole canteen to blanketed with silence, every pair of eyes now focusing on the drama that was about to unfold between the notorious gangster and his proclaimed girl. "Don't fucking touch me you disgusting piece of shit." You have had enough. The menacing words seem to pierce through every wall in the school, every person at the scene being informed of your opinion towards Yoongi all this while. You stand up, pointing a finger of accusation directly at his face—to which he flinches at, caught off-guard by your swift movement. If you had the opportunity to get away with it, you would have dug your nails into his eyeballs and gouge them out of his eye sockets, then feed one each to the weaklings by his side. Instead, you take a deep breath. Small gasps leave everyone's lips and he panics—ego bruised by your harsh rejection. Yoongi was your boyfriend. You've been tolerating him for quite some time now, all for the sake of your parents. Without this relationship, your dad would have never been able to clinch the business deal with his father. All it took was a couple of sweet phrases and fake smiles, you couldn't be bothered with the rest of him other than the profit he could bring to your company. Yoongi on the other hand, seems to interpret the relationship in a very different way. He seems to have grown fond of you and naively believed that love between the two of you is real. You never put a single thought or effort into the relationship with Yoongi, not wanting to mislead him any further but some guys just can't seem to get the message, despite the many obvious hints you've dropped. You never ask him out.

Or when he does, you would only politely decline. In school, most of the time you stick like glue to your friends and try to avoid him and his rambunctious clique at all costs. Your dear friends took empathy in you and helped you out of certain situations concerning Yoongi at times. Somehow your boyfriend's pleasant way of proving his worth was to step on the backs of people who seemed inferior to him to climb his own ladder of pride. 

It was like after each time he nailed someone to the ground and kicked their guts out, Yoongi feels like he reached another level of achievement. It's sickening to the thought and you want to have nothing got to do with that narcissistic asshole. This behaviour of his begin not too long ago, a few days prior when he marked his first victim. You were puzzled, but you didn't probe. He bullies physically and mentally, using their screams and pleas to feed his ego and push himself higher up the ladder. He started torturing anyone who ticks him off or come in his way to no end, and you think you may just be next albeit being his supposed girlfriend. 

The conduct only made you despise him even more. Come to the thought of it, the things you do for your parents include self-depreciation and the loss of any shame left in your skin. You can feel the anger slowly twisting in his veins, radiating off his now clenched fists. Contrary to his untamed anger building within him, his friends are slowly retreating from his side, trembling in fear at your spit of acid. You chuckled, almost despicably—both at the cowering of his tough underlings and the way he almost peed his pants at the mere fling of your index finger. He realises that you are mocking his fragility and there are a couple of muffled giggles ignited in the crowd—his temper starts to get the better of his mind as the emasculation finally dawns over him. Before he can lay a finger on you, you are already a step ahead of him—grabbing the cup of hot tea off the table and splashing the boiling liquid onto his uniform, scalding his body. You thought you had might as well went all out in punishing a rascal like him. Your friends reach for your arm, trying to hold you back from going any further in dealing with the jerk and you throw the cup onto the ground, causing it to shatter into fragments—the sound of the porcelain splitting and cracking into pieces haphazardly rings through their ears. You'd like to refer it as a clear warning to everybody witnessing the event—to simply not mess with you.

You wished to be left alone.

While he screams in agony at the possible second-degree burn, you waltz away from the commotion nonchalantly. You think that that scumbag ought to have a taste of his own medicine someday, and if no one else dare stuff it down his throat, you would more than gladly do so. You find yourself striding off—to the hidden corner behind the stalls. And there, you discovered the bloodied body of Taehyung. With a broken camera by his side. A boy like him deserved more than this, no human should ever be hurt as badly as this—especially for no reason at all but one's inability to control their emotions, and the poor decision to vent it out on others can make horrible things happen. You kneel down by his side, checking the wounds inflicted on him. Fishing out a packet of tissues you always keep in your pocket for emergencies, you wipe the blood stains off his abused skin. He's in too much pain to express his surprise at your assistance, grunting as you pressed the tissue against the wound. When the bleeding on a certain cut has stopped, you offer him the support of your arm to let him sit up straight. Taehyung holds onto your forearm and pulls himself up from the ground. He groans as he does so, his back clad with bruises and soreness. 

You noticed that he was stunned into a daze, probably at the grasp of realisation that someone was actually helping him. But you ignored his feelings, just shifted your attention fully onto the fixing of his injury. You recall having a plaster tucked away in your purse and you quickly take it out as well, secretly laughing at its design—hot pink with Hello Kitty. 

Taehyung doesn't miss the sound of light escaping your lips, and he himself bites down on his lip to hold back a chortle at the girlish visual of the bandaid—temporarily pushing the questions behind your intentions away. You actually felt glad you could bring a smile to his face with something like the childish print of a bandaid. Nonetheless, you peel it off and gently place it over the deep cut on his forearm as he tries to control his wincing. "Hey, it's alright. You can cry out for all you want," You smoothed the plaster flat and tight on his skin. When you lightly slap the face of the Hello Kitty to tease him, he lets out a yelp—something that sounds puzzlingly adorable coming from him. "Here, have this." You fish out a piece of candy from the other side of pocket, handing it over you the victim. The amount of surprise he shows never ceases. You let out a short laugh, "I know you're not a kid, but still..." You smile up at him. "Just take it as a form of apology for what I caused you to go through." Taehyung doesn't move a muscle, just sillily blinking at your actions. You take his hand and shove the sweet into his palm, closing his fingers around it. 

For a brief moment, both your eyes meet. 

There is an unexplainable exchange of thoughts running through each other's minds and it was close to feeling like the two of you shared something in common. Taehyung was ostracised in school and probably the life he had out there judging by his abstruse personality and unfathomable behaviour. He was a prisoner out here in the real world. 

Freedom, but yet he can't truly express himself without being placed behind bars in the eyes of others. 

You are guilty of doing so in the past, when he was nothing but a lingering, mystifying shadow that held no importance in your life. That's exactly what you did to him—judge and rule him out of the ordinary. All you feel for him is sympathy, and that isn't anywhere better than the culprits themselves if you weren't about to step out and lend him a helping hand. Regret washes over your system as his dark pupils venture into your soul.

 You were not as innocent as others perceive you to be. Bystanders were the invisible strokes of support to the metal bars that locked him up. His hand, although held by you, was trying to cling onto your grasp and not wanting you to leave. You would consider yourself a lucky chap indeed, having born into this world with food and shelter, kin and kith. In fact, rather luckier than the rest to be able to own what you like and not solely what you need. Above all of the materials your parents could afford, you were trapped in incongruity of being a prisoner of your own. You didn't know what you were passionate about in life, and to live without passion is akin to being dead. You just did well in your studies because the society deems that degree certificate as a strong foundation in your job. But you truly did not know if you really enjoyed burning the midnight oil to continuously mug or if the elation of attaining a perfect score on your assessment is pure, or just for the sake of your insatiable parents. Education is key. Well definitely, to a certain extent and you have witnessed how far your own set of parents are willing to go as long as you achieved soaring colours of distinction. 

Sleepless nights, wandering mind and a stagnant heart. Sometimes the urge to pretend to be ill to escape the torment of school. Sometimes the subconscious act of bringing the kitchen scissors to your wrist and slit... You want to collapse to the ground and never be able to wake up again. You wished a drunk driver would accidentally run you over and end everything for you. Then nobody would know about how tired you were of this pointless life. You were a prisoner of yourself too. With no doubt, you and Taehyung are definitely similar in many ways the world can't see. "See you...soon, I guess." A soft chuckle emits from you like that happening would be a miracle, but the expression does not reach your eyes. Your eyes that were blocked by a wall of defence to your vulnerability of an emptiness. She is broken. A whisper goes by his ear. She needs help. The raspy voice travelled to his other ear, making him shiver slightly but unnoticeably. Taehyung could feel it too but he was in no place to ask about your wellbeing. He could only stare and wonder. The eye contact was broken off, before your hand recedes from his, carefully. He catches the way a faint smile ghost on your features as quickly as it appeared. A bittersweet kind of happiness. But he doesn't say a word, even after your figure grows smaller with every step you take back to class. What you missed, is the shutter of the camera lens, floating in the air. "Hey, don't touch that!" He snatches the device back and winces at the stretch he feels in his back muscle.

"Y/N." The wooden planks beneath him cursed out loud, warning sirens of his voice turning stern. Besides his low voice and creaks of weak wood and nails, there is only a dripping sound from some leaking pipe. "What are you doing here?!" It is the second time he has raised the question to you, but you only keep silent, eyes searching the room for answers. 

Why hadn't you disappeared or get eaten by some ferocious beast yet? Taehyung was only complicating your attempt of suicide. You tried to keep your head clear when you first pushed the rusty front door open, disallowing the memories to flow into your mind.

 It was a blockage to all forms of happiness in your life, to prevent your pathetic self from backing out. But Taehyung, an actual human being, catching you in the act of wanting to kill yourself just shot a dose of reality into your numbing heart and racing thoughts.

  "Uh..." You wet your lips.

 "What about you? What are you doing here?" You turn the cameras back to him. It would not be shocking if he came here to take his life as well. Taehyung purses his lips in serious contemplation before candidly answering. "I can see ghosts," He looks down like it was something to be ashamed about. 

That wasn't the case for you. You were completely taken aback by his confession but you found it extremely intriguing. "Oh—Wait what?" One thing about the revelation was that it for sure explained a lot about the way Taehyung acts. You trust his words, but you don't know how to link it to the fact that he was standing right in front of you in the living room of this damned house. Raising a brow at him, you wish for him to elaborate further. "I uh, heard r-rumours circulating around in school, that uh," He pinches his brows.

 "You were going to come in here. So I kind of decided to see if it was true." You were amazed by his candidness.

"And it is." You mused.

It was heartwarming to see that someone actually bothered to risk their life to come look for you. Then again, Taehyung is a guy filled with secrets. God knows, but maybe he is the owner of this house. When his eyes capture yours for one more time, it drowned you into the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling. 

Something like denial, frustration and lastly, regret. The eye contact is never broken. Like Taehyung was staring so hard at you to try and figure the different parts of you out, to evaluate every inch of you and you squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You croaked out, beginning to feel very creeped out despite the tinge of softness laced in his eyes. "You—Urm, you—! Argh!" He only hesitates even more, turning into a stuttering mess. You jump back in surprise at his reaction. Lost and confused as to how to provide you with a suitable reply, he yells and pulls at his locks of hair. It was when he proceeds to fall to the ground on his knees and seemingly begin whimpering into his palms, all surprise turned into worry for the guy. You kneeled down and called out to him. "Shit—Taehyung!"

"What do you seek, young man?" "Your whole point here is to know and advice me." Taehyung bites back. "Very well. An unsolved mystery, something concerning a girl and regarding the old house just down the street." He shuffles his cards and keep them away neatly. It seemed like those tools will not be of any use to Taehyung, and he clearly understood why the man's face have fallen drastically—it isn't a simple case a few cards can crack. You were not only beautiful, you were inculcated with kindness, you held a type of pureness lost by many as they grow up, you spoke in a manner that is highly respectable and the crowfeet that form at the side of your eyes whenever you laughed too hard couldn't get any more adorable. He shifts uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat, and gulps anxiously. "Was her body found?" Taehyung doesn't know. 

He doesn't know where the hell you went or what the fuck you were doing, he only knows that when his eyes flew open, he felt the cold of the night stinging on his skin and an empty space next to him. You were no longer in his arms and the next moment he is springing up from the worn out couch and beginning his search for you. He looked every nook and cranny of the house for you but to no avail. The only resort left got him sitting across a renown psychic. But even the expertise in this region seems to find this case uncrackable. "No." He tilts his head, bringing out a rock of some sort. Taehyung sees it as a mere rock but not to him apparently. "This is the Magic Stone." His fingers fidget around with the purple coloured object. He does this continuously, causing Taehyung to perk an eyebrow up at his claim. The psychic burrows into deep concentration, a conclusion forming in his head. Then, all movement ceases. "Her soul has to bring you there herself."

 The medium's advice sounded strained, like it was the hardest thing to come to a conclusion like that. It's a clear excuse when he says the reason of those teardrops rolling down his cheeks are caused by the wind.

You want to reach out and pat him on the back in hopes of alleviating his pain but you quickly retract it back as the muffled sobs through his fingers grow even louder. All you could wonder at that point in time was whether something bad was happening to Taehyung. Maybe the demons in this house were taking him away first.

Maybe he is really going to die. Then, with every drop of care drained from your exhausted body, you placed your hand on his clothed back with a strong determination to do your best and ease him (into the underworld most likely) without any pain. "Are you okay?" Only for his cries to stop abruptly when he feels your hand smoothing over his back. Hastily, Taehyung removes his hands from his face and turns around to look at you. His eyes were red and swollen from all the desperate weeping, saliva of sorrow pooled in his mouth as he watches you with a kind of anguish and concern. It mirrored the look you gave him when you saw him lying on the ground, beaten up. This is where the two of you are similar. 

Prisoners, but of two entirely different reasons. You drifted your gaze to his elbow and notice the striking dash of pink. The band aid still being there was what solidified the certainty that this was all real. This wasn't some kind of twisted dream. And that would only mean one thing. Because your hand did not manage to rub his back, for the paleness casting over it only sank into his body, deep into his spine—only for his body to be in one piece as you fast to recede it like you had just touched a strong flame—unable to feel anything touching your palm even when you made that physical contact with him. "Taehyung... why..." You inspect your hands carefully. Your skin was never this white. All the hairs on your forearm had disappeared as well, your whole body lacking any hint of life. It felt surreal. Like something that would only occur in dreams. 

"Why can't I touch you?" Maybe if you try pinching yourself, you would wake up. Maybe this was just one of your daily nightmares from stress. It was when you started aggressively pinching the pale skin on your arms, thighs, waist—you realised you could still feel yourself. The only difference being that it was so, so cold. It was similar to touching an ice pack, frosty and nothing much else. 

Cold. That's how you feel and the perplexity that hit you all at once began transforming into larges beams of anger, sadness and helplessness. You wanted to cry as loud as you could for help. "Why do I feel so cold?!" You refused to believe anything your senses were telling you. Everything your naked eyes were showing you. 

Lunging forward, you run your hands all over Taehyung again and hope to actually feel something tangible. 

To your dismay, your fist only goes through his heart like he was made of air—no, like you were made of air. 

You were the dead one here.

"The police have searched the whole compound of the town and spread the news of the missing school girl country wide. In the past two weeks of finding the teenage girl, Y/F/N is still unable to be located. If you have come across—Zap." Taehyung clicks the button on the remote control and flings it to the other end of the couch in frustration. He ruffles through his hair, hoping for hints of you to magically pop up in his head. The thing is, the both of you had barely spoken to one another. Plus, he had a tough time speaking to the people at his-and your-school. One week. One whole week since the disappearance of your body. The police are proven to be fucking useless and incompetently unreliable, he mentally notes. He figured that the fastest method to locate you, would require him to act out on his own. The list of things that can happen to your body goes down a long scroll that even Taehyung himself is unwilling to imagine. He wants you to at least, still be in one piece when he finds you. He uses the term body, because your soul is for sure loitering somewhere in town. It can't go too far from your body, a rule he remembers by heart. So, it wouldn't be entirely impossible to detect where your corpse would be. Think, think, think! He repeats like a mantra in his bursting head. Where would you go if you were this free, lingering spirit? And then he recalls.

"You're up here again."

He pushes himself up onto his usual spot—a high wall surrounding the perimeter of the rooftop, granting anyone up here a perfect view of the school field and vast blue sky. The job of the wall is to prevent any students from falling over and have their bodies crush to pulp when they plop to the ground floor. But Taehyung doesn't play by the rules. Where is the fun in that? He often questions anything that has to do with system and order. As a person who lives by pure intuition, Taehyung brings himself to the top floor for the second time after just doing so the day before. It could be the voices whispering encouragements for him to pay upstairs a visit, or maybe it had to do with a very strong gut feeling tugging at his chest. Nonetheless, he was here.

The boy from yesterday is situated at the exact place as before. His skin was terrifyingly pale—but not translucent—and the cracking of his bones could still be heard whenever he swinged his legs. He must have just died a few days ago, Taehyung concludes. The boy doesn't acknowledge Taehyung, nor does he reply.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung cranes his neck a little to face the boy properly—who in turn was staring at his feet with a strange amount of attention. Then upon following his line of sight, Taehyung realises how small and young the boy was—his own legs were almost twice as long as the kid's.

"My brother," He finally speaks, but only softly.

Taehyung digests his answer for a moment, before cautiously popping the second question. He knew better than to ask why the boy had died, it would probably even send the kid into a fury and then to hell, which was the last thing Taehyung wanted to happen to him. "If you don't mind me asking," He nervously grips the edge of wall.

 The boy tipped his chin up slightly, intrigued by his words. His big round eyes came into view, leaving a heavy load to weigh at Taehyung's heart. His eyes, still freshly glistening and vibrant with blackness illustrated the bright and long road that awaited him in his life, only to be torn apart by whatever fatally tragic accident he was met with. It's a pity. It's a pity how some promising futures can be so easily robbed of in a blink of the eye. It is not a frequent occasion where tears pricked at Taehyung's eyes. He closes them for a second, before getting the question out. "Who is your brother?" The boy now turns to fully face him, legs still swinging regardless. His eyes looked way bigger and innocent than Taehyung had thought they would be. And it doubled the pain beneath his ribs.

It's suffering to bump into an innocent soul. He had rather someone who acted the way they deserved their death. The boy switches his stare on Taehyung now, silent while his orbs grow shinier. "I'm sorry in advance," The child looks like he was about to burst into tears. Taehyung felt the same. What was a sweet boy like him even apologetic for? "Min Yoongi." Taehyung blinks in surprise. The boy was gone. A series of giggles echoed in the stairway and without another thought, Taehyung hops down to hide himself from whoever was there. He does not recall any platform being built after the wall. He simply knows that if he falls over from such a risky position, he would die. He heaves a deep sigh of relief when the platform does not crumble into pieces under his full weight. He thinks it must be the doing of the boy. His smile is cut off when the footsteps and voices grow louder, noticeably two female students just hanging out. Unlike being rash as himself, they only prop their elbows on the wall, admiring the scene as that. Which he was grateful for, otherwise he would definitely get caught for loitering around carelessly. "Finally. Something great about this shit hole." Taehyung sticks onto the wall like a lizard, trying his best to be away from the edge. "Honestly, the perfect spot to take fresh breather," the other voice makes an appearance. "No one ever comes up here unless you want to be making a serious offence." A flock of birds crosses the sky and Taehyung secretly hopes they don't share the tiny space with him. "For peace and quiet, I'd give anything." The first voice replies. He silently nods in strong agreement. And he recognises it as yours, because of that one time you were called up to present a book review in Literature class. Your voice was distinct yet soft, you spoke with a sense of urgency to bring your point across and yet still manage to maintain your composure in your tone. He must say he’s never been this impressed by a presenter before.

And here he is, hearing the same voice again. This time, much quieter and lower compared to in class, but it leaves him beyond intrigued of the next content spilling out of your mouth. "Then, where are you going to get your dear peace and quiet after this semester?" The second girl with the higher pitched voice asks. "Hm, great question." The first girl ponders and probably stares into the horizon.

Then she replies, after the earth spins a full round. "Somewhere with sand and salt maybe." She answers seriously, after much consideration. "Can't you just say the beach? You idiot." "Whatever. Just checking if that peanut brain of yours is working." A gasp can be heard. "You better run before I catch you!" Their shoes leave heavy footsteps on the concrete and their voices gradually fade away.

Taehyung feels bad for eavesdropping onto their conversation, but it was something he couldn’t help even if he did not want to.

Speaking of which, Taehyung hasn’t thought about what he’d like to do during spring break. Maybe he’d bring some flowers and offerings for Yoongi’s brother and the others always by his side. Without being seen, that goes without saying.

They’d be over the moon to receive flowers because no one is really there for them. Or have simply forgotten about them. Taehyung wonders if anyone would bring him flowers when he passes on.

Still, Taehyung felt a seed of envy being planted inside of him, wishing that he could go to the beach or park during the season of blossoms with friends and genuinely have a good time. He has never gotten the opportunity to hang out with any normal human ever since birth. He told a friend he trusted about his ability of seeing things normal people couldn’t and the boy went about telling everybody about his confession which led to the beginning of his ostracisation

Weirdo. Freak. Those were the names he eventually got accustomed to being called as.

The seed of envy grows. The both of you are lucky enough to be discussing about where to head to for vacation, something he couldn’t do.

Lucky enough to be going on a vacation. Not everyone has that blessing.

He wish he could be like everyone else. Lead a normal life, have friends, and be wealthier. This way, he wouldn’t have to struggle so much.

For a moment, he wishes that he could replace the position and live the life of anyone else. 

Like the girl who can play the violin. 

Like the boy always sleeping in class.

Like the school’s janitor.

Like Yoongi. 

Like you.

"Hey you! What are you doing up there?!" Someone like a security personnel yells at him from downstairs. Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back up there?

You must not be far. His feet dents the soaked sand beneath, leaving prints that queued in line to be washed up by the incoming waves. With the ends of his pants rolled up, he spins around aimlessly to search for you. It was fortunately a weekday, which allowed the beach to be emptier. And that would make the task of spotting you much easier. He strolls along the coast, patiently kindling his instincts to take him wherever you were to be. It feels almost surreal—the texture of the grainy sand rubbing against the sole of his feet, the gentle whispers of the arriving waves, the wind slicing through his thick hair, ruffling it like feathers—how peculiar it felt to realise that he is alive, being hyper aware of all five (or six) senses.

The tangibility of things would signal that he is actually a living human, but something intangible is missing in him and it makes the whole experience of being alive feel so...detached. Every part of his body felt like it didn't belong to him—it was his toes coming in contact with the sand and not him, it was his hair dancing with the wind and not him, it was his legs moving on their own accord and not Taehyung. This is what happens when you interact with supernatural beings for the whole of your life, he thinks.

"Hey watch your step!" A shout intrudes his thoughts. Taehyung pauses, retracting his feet back. The small kid carries on building her sandcastle with her companion. Watching their busy hands, Taehyung tries to figure out who exactly was the one who warned him. Regardless, he whips out his camera to take a shot of the girl building sandcastles. "Yay! It's done!" The girl pats the top of the castle and runs towards the benches shrieking in contentment, failing to withhold the excitement of breaking the news of the small achievement to her mother. The other girl however, only smiles at Taehyung and vanishes. He runs his eyes across the ground. Just below his toes, there laid a tiny baby turtle. It scurries, towards nowhere, seemingly unable to acquire the skill of waddling on the fine sand like all his other pals. A meter ahead, his friends totter in clusters towards the entrance of the sea. The poor buddy struggles hard to walk properly, let alone find the correct direction home. He suddenly grows conscious of the couple of seagulls chilling by the water. But he was too preoccupied with the aim to find you to bother about the weak creature. As he was just about to dismissively stroll away, something tells him to make a turn and save that baby animal. He should make a difference when he can. He definitely should. He could actually salvage a situation. A life that is. He jogs back faster than the predator birds could, quickly finding the turtle again and gently picked it up. The shell looked too big for its body and its two big ebony eyes popping out of its sockets gazing at Taehyung—are filled with gratitude. Or so he assumes. The creature makes some kind of fuzzy noise—of happiness—when it is put down onto the sea line to join its siblings. The rambunctious clique waddles their way into the ocean, gliding across and surging into the water, one by one, delightfully. The seagulls trots away, lunch stolen. He continues his trail. Slowly, a pier approaches. And similar to Yoongi's brother, a girl sits at the end of the wooden platform all by herself.

She radiates frozen, cold heat and as he gets closer, the temperature dives. He carefully crafts his steps towards the lone spirit, begging the planks to not creak too loudly in fears of scaring her away. With every inch he gets closer to the girl, the clouds present in the sky turns darker, accompanied with the flush of even more greyness which eventually overlays the initial coat of cyan. The familiarity of the uniform boosts the confidence in him to call out your name. "Y/N?" She stands up—indeed the girl reported missing—and Taehyung was glad it was you. The troubles fogging his mind seem to have cleared at the plain sight of you. He was relieved that he had at least found your soul. It was another thing to find your body though, and that is the main objective here. Connecting your body with your soul would be the final resort in sending you off in peace. He had a day left. Twenty four hours before you wouldn't be able to leave in peace. Before your pure soul would dissipate into a fiery pit of wrath, abandoned in the darkest abyss until you transform into a vengeful spirit. All the hatred, pain and misery would be instilled in your afterlife that is deadly inescapable. These overwhelming amount of negative emotions trapped in your soul would then leave you in this state, forever. The sight was inexplicably depressing. Just a few days ago, you were real to the touch. He could feel your fingers smoothing over the plaster on his arm. He could see the satisfaction radiating off the smile you flashed at him before, leaving. He could smell the light cherry blossom from your shampoo flowing in the air. He could hear the base of your sneakers hitting the floor as you paced your way to class. Yet now, the wood underneath wouldn't make a sound as you got up.

Your lips were chapped and your crusting skin was faded. Compare to a few days ago at the house, you looked much worse and haggard.

The corners of your mouth quivered, itching to bring forth expression but unable to do so. You couldn’t even smile. You couldn’t even cry if you wanted to.

Now you were toeing the line that crossed the real world and heaven apart.

Somehow he feels like it is partly his fault. Maybe if he had tugged onto your wrist and asked you to stay back a little longer. Maybe if he was quick enough to catch you after school. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had the chance to end your life. Caged by your fingers, was a head of pink.

"I heard that pink carnations stand for the remembrance of the dead," 

His brows furrows at your words. How is it that you were able to comfort him so easily, while he is here having a difficult time to even form words to express his grief. But he was sure that like him, you didn't crave for sympathy at all. 

Maybe if he had clung onto the empty look in your eyes, thinking more than he should, stepping out of his comfort zone to care for you. Then perhaps, this situation would never take place. Then with a heaving chest, he clenches his teeth to embrace the fact that you are no longer existent in this real world. It was pointless to think about all the possibilities that could have dodged this situation.

"I hope someone remembers me." 

Uncontrollably, a bead of tear seeps out and rolls down his cheek. His nostrils flare up as the sadness and realisation overtakes every cell in him that was fighting against the tide of sorrow. His heart feels like someone plunged their fist into his bare chest and ripped it out. Thrown onto the ground and stomped into pieces.

Lips quivering, Taehyung fights back the devastation and gathers the last scrapes of sensibility in his mind, using all the energy his rationality could afford—brings the camera looped around his neck up to his eyes, and snaps.

Through the lens, a pink carnation levitates above the pier, the ocean a transverse blue spread across the rectangular panel, accentuating the vibrant colour of the dainty flower.

The camera lowers, along with his head.

He was sobbing by now, all the while you gently hold the flower and stare at him with the same hollow eyes. “Why?!” He grits out between cries. 

"Why..." The later one comes out in broken, incoherent snippets.

You are really not here anymore. With him.

"I'm weaker than you think," You breathed out with a faint smile following the confession. His heart clenches and twists into a tight knot, pulling at his conscience.

"And don't you worry, I will return to my body." 

The fact that you were still trying your best to maintain cheery for him despite being dead twists his heart viciously. The world is too cruel to you, and to him. An angel like you deserves to seek your happiness in a better place like the skies above. The visage of you is becoming transparent, signalling your departure. Taehyung musters all that is left in him to take a step forward and press his palm softly to your face. He could not feel anything but his hand was just there, for support and consolation.

"I will remember you." 

His words of affirmation sets your heart at ease. You finally understand how they would all say, that the true pain does not lie within the process of dying, but in truth lies within the witnessing of those who love and care for you, break down. After climbing out of your state of denial at your own death, you have come to terms with that fact and wish for nothing more than to end the whole suffering. It lurches at your heart seeing a guy like Taehyung who you were not even that close to, crying like he had just lost a precious belonging. Like the world had just lost a precious belonging. You hoped that people remember you. For all your hard work in this world, for all the full marks you attained, for all the certifications you achieved, for all the smiles you have bring and the band aids you have placed on others. You hope that when people think of you, it is nothing but filled with goodness. There were, no regrets to say the least.

 Your body may not be in its best condition, but the accident pulled your death off pretty well. It left you with no second thoughts, no last words, just a brutal blow to your side and head. It killed you with perfection, leaving no hesitation and last words—just met with the end in a solid second. You're suddenly worried Taehyung gets into trouble again.

"If anything, I'll protect you alright?"

Taehyung chuckles unbelievably through sniffs. 

"We'll meet again.”

Your final words splinters apart, the bottom half of your body already beginning to dissipate. You gradually dissolve into the thin air—the cold mist and you becoming one— and the skies clear up in no rush. The carnation drops to the wooden floor with a thud. 

I will remember you.

It was a chilly night, an expected downpour to attack in about an hour. His curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind, flowing about violently. "The body of the missing school girl has been recovered after a hiker going for his morning exercise smells rotten flesh in the woods. The police suspect that the girl may have jumped off a cliff from above as an attempt of suicide." Taehyung shifts his attention back to the mac and cheese turning cold on his lap. At one point, the winds were so rough that the vase sitting on the top of his dresser wobbles in jeopardy before another ferocious blow arrives through his window and topples the glass over, onto the ground. Shattered into fragments. Water spills out and the pink carnation flows along on the liquid like a dead body in a river. He internally groans at the mess he has to clean up afterwards, but it is only for a short moment before his attention is snatched by the voice of news anchor on television once again. "However, the forensics department has confirmed with the backing of further detailed analysis of the crime scene, that there were skid marks indicated on the road at the edge of the cliff accompanied by scraps of car paint evident on the victim's clothes." The carnation on the ground blackens, curls up into a crushed stalk of wither.

[ultrakeystotheheartblog]

Not So Alone (Teen Titans x Reader)

Part 1 of 2 [Part 2 is now up! ♥]

Request: “Imagine waking up with them in your bed, and not knowing exactly when they got there. (Teen Titans?)”

A/N: Hey, hey, hey! I hope you enjoy it! I’ve been watching a bunch of old Teen Titans episodes lately (that beautiful, timeless 2003 version), and got a bit nostalgic. Then this happened once I saw that request. So, I decided to incorporate all of the Titans in this one :) 

(BTW the next imagine I’m working on is a Young Justice!Dick Grayson x reader. Look for it soon!)

Warnings: Swearing. I think that’s about it. Anyway, I tried my best to make it all fluffy, but I apologize if any of the characters seem a little out of character. 

****************************************************************************

You think you might be in some sort of afterlife.

An ethereal morning light is already cutting through the blinds on the windows, glowing, rigid slices of light that fall across the room in ladder like patterns, and flashes of warm sunlight pressing gently over the lids of your eyes like a kiss.

It’s enough to stir you awake, and as you’re dragged back to awareness you register the sudden shock of nausea first. Nope still alive. The afterlife wouldn’t be this shitty. It feels like you’d been hit by a tank and thrown 100 feet into the air, only to be reacquainted with the painful principles of gravity. Which wasn’t too far from the truth with what you could slowly begin to piece together from the day before. 

Aliens. Not so friendly aliens from way out of town. No, forget that. Big, not so friendly aliens with a streak of violence—like sumo wrestlers on steroids. Flying motorcycles, sentient, scaly lizard tails (more like dragon tails) that seemed to have a mind of their own and pack a wallop like a fly hitting the window of a moving train, and burning hot lasers that you distinctly remember avoiding at all costs. Especially when they seared right through the sturdy brick of a building with ease.

Then it was getting distracted, for one stupid second, by a civilian making a run for it across the street. Long enough for one of those tails to crash against the back of your head and make the world tip upside down in your vision—a wave of blinding pain, a faraway chorus of yells, and nothing but the whooshing of blood in your ears—before it drags you right up into hell. That’s one of the last things you remember, before the fall.

Gravity, ugh.

Thou art an unforgiving mistress.

To sum it up, everything ached, right down to your teeth. Your body’s incredibly heavy and sinking into the mattress, throat dry, ears and throat stuffed with cotton. Your eyes are burning too, as you blink them rapidly to focus through the pounding in your head. The dizziness lasts for a few moments longer than you would have liked, but it’s easier to take in your surroundings now. And the other sensations of your poor, broken body. Because you’re pretty sure that your left arm is very broken, wrapped in a clean white cast and propped on your stomach. The muscles twitch and your skin itches as you lift your head to peer closely at it, a spasm in your neck making you wince again. You’d definitely been sleeping funny.

Your face was sore, like you’d face planted unceremoniously into a slab of solid concrete, and judging by the dull stinging of your additional broken nose, you’re guessing that you’d met a similar fate at some point while being tossed around. 

You wonder if there are bruises that match the nasty patchwork of blue and black and purple splotches that climb the expanse of visible skin. From your throbbing knuckles to the tops of your shoulders, and then down to the lighter mess of injuries scattered across your knees and around your calves—but were no doubt deep enough to have actually bruised some bone. There are bandages wrapped around you too. You find thick gauze bound tight around your torso and soaked in small patches of blood when you gather enough courage to tug up the relaxed gray shirt you’re wearing. It’s just loose enough to hang down around the faded red shorts you’d always pull on after a long day of hero work (but when the hell did you get dressed in that?).

You catch the sight of a figure hovering near the windows of the room, legs crossed and head bowed towards the light streaming in, a dark purple cloak hanging off her shoulders. Raven must sense you’re awake, because she turns to you quickly, dark eyes scanning your form and then darting to either side of you, before she meets your gaze and tries to smile. It’s then you realize that there are more than just you two in the room (your room? You think groggily. Yes, you can see the outline of your books and little trinkets lined beneath the thin shelves under the window). In fact, the body heat surrounding you is enough to tell you that there’s more one body in your bed. Your very cramped bed.

You shift as gently as you can and drop your gaze from Raven to the girl sprawled out on her stomach at the end of the mattress, face pressed into the comforter bunched around your legs. Her long, fiery red hair hangs over her shoulders, her arm thrown across your ankles without much weight to it, as if she’s just reassuring herself that you’re still there. 

Starfire looks mostly unharmed, save for the crisscrossing bandages wrapped along her hands. You raise an eyebrow and settle your focus on the socked feet next to her head. You follow them up to the person’s legs, clad in comfy looking blue sweatpants and a shiny black brace tight around his left knee, and then slowly up the length of his body. It’s lithe and powerful, and you take in the subtle lines and muscles of his figure up to the white t-shirt that fits like a second skin against his chest. And then—surprisingly—you end at mask-less eyes, swollen looking eyelids fluttering in his sleep.

It’s Robin lying next to you, all stretched out and facing the ceiling. His arms are crossed behind his head, his elbows tucked in a little closer to avoid your head. The muscles in your neck spasm again as you strain to stare at him by turning your head more fully in his direction; eyeing the stitches that run under his chin and various surgical dressings tapped to places along his collarbone and then disappear down his shirt. It looks like he’d either been shot or had shrapnel removed. You decide on the latter, considering what you can kind of recall following the initial attack on Jump City. Crumbling buildings were not all that easy to avoid really.

You feel something curl closer to your right side, just at your hip, the soft whine of a dog pulling your attention from your fearless leader. You can’t help but jump a bit at the sound, peering down at the small, green figure of a beagle settled there. Beast Boy is still asleep despite the movement, looking restless in his dreaming while the muscles in his back legs twitch and coil as though he’s ready to run. 

You reach out with your good hand, gently brushing your palm through the fur pressed against your body in an effort to calm him. It seems to work, the muscles loosening at your touch, and he stirs slightly at the sensation but doesn’t wake fully. The fur is soft and warm beneath your fingers, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why your friend seems so anxious, even in his sleep. He has bandages too, little ones covering minor nicks and scrapes along his spine. So far, you seem to be the only one who’s come out of the fight looking as though you’ve literally been pummelled through that damn metaphorical meat grinder, that stupid saying feeling more literal at the moment than should probably be allowed. In short, you’re a mess.

You swallow a sudden lump in your throat and feel the flow of muddled emotion begin to crest, a sharp ache in your chest bringing the sting of frustrated tears to the corners of your eyes. God, what if you….died. You could have. You could be very dead right now. And suddenly you think you can appreciate the pain cycling through your body a little more. At least that meant you were still kicking. But as soon as you look up to your right, it becomes a challenge to stay on that morbid train of thought. You try to desperately stifle a bout of laughter when you find the final person in the room. 

Cyborg is sitting in a chair by your bed, the back of the said chair tipped so far back it touches the wall behind it, leaving it to waver precariously on only two rear legs. The creaking mass of plastic is just barely enough to balance the massive, bulky figure of your friend. It’s quite a sight to behold, and like the others surrounding you on the bed he’s sound asleep, mouth hanging open as he snores away.

Once the surprised laughter passes, you wonder with prickling concern just how long he’s been like that. And then how long he’ll be able to stay balanced like that. He’s a big guy. And that….is a tiny chair. You take a few seconds to observe him like the others, gaze flitting over the tarnished looking metal of his entire torso, practically blackened by what you think might have been an explosion, and the chipped blue casing over half of his head. Not too bad, you consider. 

Across the room, Raven lowers herself to the ground, stepping closer to sit on the edge of the mattress closest to Starfire. Your eyes snap to her at the movement and you flash a tired smile when she continues to stare at you, strangely and completely devoid of any real emotion, like…like she’s trying to hide that real emotion away. You can’t see any injuries as you do a quick scan of her figure; most of her body is shrouded by her cloak, but her dark hair is untamed and curling at certain angles, the only sign that’s she’s probably had a rough night of restlessness. She leans forward to speak softly, her own stoic gaze dragging across your injuries with a purpose that leaves you almost embarrassed.

“How are you feeling?” She asks.

The soreness in your throat makes it a little difficult to speak; your tone coarse and whisper-light as you respond as quietly as you can, hoping to not wake the others around you. “Oh, you know, fine. Despite the horrible pounding migraine and useless broken body.”

Raven breaks character and faintly smirks, “It’s not totally broken. I could help ease the pain though, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, I think that’d be good. It’s kind of hard to think.” You say in relief, carefully moving your uninjured hand up to your head. You press your fingers into the middle of your forehead, trying to massage out the white noise building just behind it. Geez, your neck was stiff.

“Not that you did much of that yesterday.” The new voice takes you by surprise and every muscle in your body locks up at the closeness of it, leaving you to practically choke an air. A hand shoots out from your left to rest on top of your cast, the thumb gently soothing over the dull plaster as if it was your skin. The gesture was kind enough. 

It calms you in your slightly panicked state—which he caused in the first place trying to be a righteous smartass—and you shift to turn your head fully towards Robin, taking deep breaths to pull in sweet, sweet oxygen to your lungs. He’s still lying comfortably on his back, but his head is turned to look at you too. You meet his leveled gaze easily, the insanely sharp blue of his eyes punching that air right back out of your chest. Those were eyes you’d definitely seen before. A lot, actually, and holy hell how were you even supposed to cope with this new information? You huff in disbelief.

“Okay, a little rude considering I’m in too much pain to even lift my limbs to hit you.” You counter back in a harsh whisper. Robin doesn’t even flinch at the weak threat, and like the cocky little punk he is, just lets a slow, teasing smile spread across his lips.

“I doubt it would even hurt that much.” He says, much to your passionate displeasure.

“Disrespectful.” You hiss playfully in response, staying mindful of the sleeping figures still slumped around you. You pout at the way Robin tilts his head back and snickers quietly into his hand, rolling your eyes and turning away from him to stare at the ceiling. “How long have you been awake?” You inquire after a moment of silence.

Robin hums, “A while, I’m a light sleeper.” He turns over on his side to face you more clearly, the shifting weight drawing your attention back to him, and props his head upon the palm of his hand. He seems to grow more serious, those familiar eyes narrowing as they trace the bruises on your face, voice low and almost frustrated—though it’s hard to discern where exactly that frustration was aimed. Most likely at you judging by his earlier comment. Or maybe, even more sadly... himself. You’d known him long enough to consider that a possibility.

“You were lucky you know—to survive all that.” He begins with a frown.

You wince at the look on his face, trying to lighten the mood by jokingly stating, “You make it sound like I almost died.”

“You did.” Raven cuts in bleakly, sweeping off the edge of the mattress like an apparition, cloak cascading around her form but making no sound as it swishes through the air. You follow her path to the left side of the bed, her words sinking in past a sudden rush of dizziness. Were those black dots always in your vision? No, no, that wasn’t good at all. She bends over Robin to get a better look at you, lifting her hand to rest on the top of your head. It’s cold against the heat of your body and she doesn’t put much pressure there. It feels nice, soothing your mind and pulling you back from biting anxious thoughts until you’re head is clear enough to speak again.

“What?”

Robin’s expression doesn’t change much, besides the clench of his jaw and the darkening blue in his eyes, the brightness in them eclipsed by something unwavering and terrifyingly honest. To be honest, it was chilling to see that kind of look directed at you. Before you can spiral into negative thoughts, the crack in his hushed voice is what snaps you back to reality.

“Your heart stopped. Twice.” He murmurs, emphasising his distressing news with a tap to his own chest, before running his hand through his hair. “Starfire was in hysterics until Cyborg was able to get it working again, and keep you stable. We almost lost you for good.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that, so you swallow around that ever-present lump in your throat and sink back into the mattress with closed eyes. “Well, shit.” Raven’s hand flutters in its place on top of your head, her fingers spreading. There’s a feeling like water that cascades over your head, a soft touch of energy over your skin that soon seeps further—though your head is still completely dry. 

It flows through your body like a full body shiver, a cooling sensation firing through your synapses until the throbbing pain begins to ebb away with each new wave. Relief turns your muscles to putty, the stiffness in your joints practically melting away as you sink further in the mattress, fully at peace with the hilarious possibility of just dropping through to the floor at some point.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much been the premise for the last 12 hours.” Robin mutters from beside you. Raven removes her hand and leans back to study you, returning to her spot on the edge of the bed when she’s content with your condition. The subtle dip in the mattress brings an unexpected thought with it, one that swirls with an urgency to remind you just how strange this morning has felt. And how crowded your room currently is.

You crack open an eye to look at Robin accusingly, “Bu—uhh how—when did you guys even get in my room anyway?”

Raven runs a hand through her hair as though just realizing how unruly it is at the moment, sighing deeply as she turns to you. “We never left.” She tells you. And okay, that sure made you feel some type of way. A way you weren’t used to feeling around people—awkwardly vulnerable (well, this is it; you think you might actually be dying for real this time because crapping shit the room isn’t supposed to feel this stuffy, right? Right?) and just a bit guilty.

“You...you didn’t have to stay.” You manage to stammer out, wholly surprised that your volume hadn’t woken anybody else up. They must be so tired, you think sullenly, and just like that your guilt all but doubles.

Robin flops onto his back again, training his gaze on the ceiling with a determined sort of smile. “Oh, I know. We wanted to.”

“To make sure I didn’t die again?”

“That’s one reason.”

“We were...worried.” Raven adds from the end of the bed, mouth pressed into a thin line. You tilt your head in confusion, gaze darting from her to Robin.

“You had another reason?” You ask hesitantly.

Robin turns his head to look at you, expression softer than before, and you see the brightness has returned to those pretty blue eyes. “You don’t have to isolate yourself, (Y/N). You know...act like nothing hurts you or insist on doing things on your own. We’re your team—your friends. You have us to always lean on when you need it.”

You think you might be dying again, but for a completely different reason this time. It’s odd, for sure, and kind of making you nauseous in a way where it’s hard to tell if that feeling is either good or bad. Was there a good nauseous? You decide that if there was than this would be it. 

You feel safe for the first time in a long while, cared for and warm and increasingly more emotionally compromised than you can usually stand. Your heart flutters nonetheless at the sentiment, and you can’t help but wonder—through a thundering, corny realization about the importance of friendship, which leaves you reeling with bewilderment and edged with a disappointment at the slip up in your consciousness—if this mushy feeling inside you was here to stay. And if so, well, you think you can learn to live with it.

“I know.” You say quietly, reaching over to pat his shoulder in a rush of affection. “And I—wait, hold on. You said...how do you know what my name is?!”

Raven sighs and settles back more comfortably in her seated position, one hand resting behind her and palm flat against the mattress, her other hand once again hidden in the darkness of her cloak. “We had to look into your medical files at one point. I’m...sorry for the invasion in privacy.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Though I’m pretty sure our resident detective already knew what it was.”

“Regardless,” Robin answers suspiciously, “We thought we’d even the playing field a bit.”

“Is that why the famous Dick Grayson is in my bed right now and not our fearless boy wonder?” You quip easily, gaze jumping to examine the familiar lines of his face again. Robin merely smirks.

“So, you recognize me.”

“Kinda hard not to when you’re all over the news.” You remind him with a teasing smile, “You and your dad—who’s totally Batman, oh my god.”

Robin’s eyes snap to you in an instant, and he lifts a hand to point at you with a sense of urgency you find hilarious. “That revelation stays in this room and can never see that light of day again. I’m serious, stop laughing.”

“Right, right. Who needs secret identities anyway though?”

“We do. Usually.”

“You trust us enough to take of the mask?”

“I’m learning.”

‘We’re honored.” Raven deadpans, in that special way only she can. You clap your good hand over your mouth and snort in laughter, watching her as she motions to herself with a simple flourish. “My name is Rachel.” She offers. You nod at her, eyebrows furrowed as you take in this surprising development in relationships with your team.

“This is so weird.” You comment into the silence of the room.

Robin sits up with purpose, “I can make it weirder.”

Your eyebrow lifts in amusement, watching as Robin grins, the smile boyish and charming and so not what you were used too when hanging around the team. He brings his fingers slowly up to his lips, giving Raven enough time to act. Her visible hand lights up with black pulsing energy, using her powers to bunch up the pillow you’re lying on, both sides lifting up past your head to press soft cotton over your ears. You just found your new best friend. Robin whistles—loudly—and the immediate reaction is priceless in every way you can imagine.

Cyborg accidentally rocks the chair in his haste to sit up straight, body tipping to the side  as the delicate balance he created is broken at last, the large, half-awake teen crashing to the floor with a groan and once again in gravity’s evil hold. Beast boy shoots up from beside you with a panicked yelp and turns back into a very naked real boy, flailing back in a panic and slipping of the side of the bed to join Cyborg on the floor. 

Starfire is a little less startled, back snapping straight as she rises to her knees, sleepily combing through the thick tangles of her hair until her piercing green eyes can peer out into the world again. The pillow slowly sinks back to its place and you can hear the aftermath more clearly now.

Cyborg groans in a daze, “I’m up, I’m up, I’m up!” He throws up an arm in the air—the only part of him you can see right now—only to let it flop back down and grip at the edge of the bed to pull himself. He leans forward with a sigh and plops his chin down onto the mattress.

“That was not the fun way to wake up.” Starfire says through a yawn, blinking away any remaining sleep as her gaze focuses on the commotion near the door.

Beast Boy is scowling and hastily pulling on a pair of black shorts he’d magically plucked from somewhere on the floor, avoiding looking in your general direction with all his might as a blush rises across his cheeks. Oh yes, Beast Boy, you had seen everything. And you were not at all happy with his choice in sleeping attire. Your bed sheets had to be burned immediately. “Dude, was that even necessary?” He rants with fervour, pulling harshly at the draw strings of his shorts. “Dog ears are sensitive to that crap!”

“I just wanted to get your attention.” Robin says simply, fighting back a grin at the exasperated look on Beast Boy’s face. Cyborg runs a hand over his own face and squints up at his friend, seeming to forget that you were even in the room and possibly still sleeping.

“Well now you have it, Rob, and none of us are very happy about it.” He loudly exclaims.

None of them seemed to have noticed you’re awake yet, and okay, fair. You’ve probably been nothing more than a perpetual unconscious lump to them, for enough time at least, to curb any excessive anxiety about checking if you’re still breathing or not. But even so, it definitely almost stings...in annoying kind of way. But then again, that might also just be your underlying frustration with the whole more or less dying thing. You roll your eyes at the unfolding madness, dramatically tossing your uninjured arm up to get their attention—while rightfully scaring the ever-loving shit out of them—and then gesture the length of your broken body with a slow drag of your hand.

“Would you be happier to see me?” You drawl with the movement.

Silence.

Then complete and utter chaos once the stunned expressions of your friends melt away into eager excitement.

“(Y/N)! You’re alive!” Beast Boy cries first, leaping back onto the bed to rest on his knees, shaking the frame and almost crashing into Starfire in his enthusiasm, but he’s mindful enough to avoid colliding with your sore limbs. He rises a bit to stare down at you, looking as though he wants to just dive in for a hug. He restrains himself though, and you smile up at him in silent thanks.

“Yeah, I—”

“Boo-yah! Ha! See? What did I keep telling you guys, practically invincible!” Cyborg interjects with a loud whoop, jumping up to his feet to pump his fist victoriously in the air. He catches you pointedly staring at him, lifting your casted arm to remind him of your situation, and he can only shrug with a dazzling grin. “For the most part. You lose B.B.! Guess who’s buying the pizza tonight! And then has to scrub every single toilet in the tower. Every. Single. One.”

Beast Boy spins on his knees to glare at him, “Oh, come on, dude! That’s not—I was only out by a couple’a hours!”

“Rules are rules.”

“Seriously stupid rules!”

“That you agreed too!”

You narrow your eyes at them, “Wait, what—”

“Friend (Y/N)!” Starfire calls, nearly floating of the bed in delight. “You are finally awake and hmm—mostly unharmed! What a joyous morning this is turning out to be!” She leans forward to take your good hand and give it a friendly squeeze, fingers warm like sunlight on your skin as she smiles down at you.

“It’s good to see you too, Star.” You say honestly, content to squeeze her hand back with what little strength you have. Starfire releases her grip on you then, touching her own hand to her chest as she explains.

“My true name is Koriand'r. I was merely fond of the way it translated in your language. But you may call me Kori, as our friends have been. I must admit that I have quite enjoyed having the new—” She pauses, searching for the right word. “...nickname?”

“It does have a nice ring to it.”

She cocks her head in thought, ‘That is a good thing, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wonderful!”

You laugh at her unbridled excitement, the feeling contagious no matter how hard you try and resist it. You lift your arms up towards her like a child, panting at the heavy exhaustion that immediately settles into your limbs. Your movements still feel sluggish and weak, but damn it you’ve been laying on this bed for long enough. No horrible injuries were going to stop you from sitting up like normal person. 

You muster enough strength to wave your arms in desperation, beginning to feel like a floundering fish out of water. Especially the longer your friends hesitate to move you, while just watching you struggle to get upright in a stupor of their own indecision. Come on, you lovable assholes, any time now would be great.

“Can you help me up, Kori?” You eventually huff—when it becomes painstakingly clear that nobody was going to do it of their own volition. She looks as though she’s been knocked to her senses finally, eyes widening as she surges forward to gently grip your flailing arms.

“Oh yes, of course.”

Everyone moves then, shifting back to give you more space as Starfire eases you up as smoothly as she can. Robin frowns, hand to your back as he helps guide you. “Careful.” He warns you earnestly.

The pillow behind you seems to move on its own again, though you know its Raven lending a hand, the comfy article propping itself up to help steady you as you’re positioned delightfully upright at last. Yes, you were breathing heavily, already tired enough to slip back into beautiful unconsciousness, but you considered this new improvement a win. You would even high-five yourself if you could, because take that, lizard-tailed summo aliens who tried to painfully obliterate you from existence. You were a survivor.

Beast Boy is eyeing you carefully now, nervously hovering around you like you’re about to combust or something. “Isn’t it too soon to be movin’ around? Ya’ got hit pretty hard.” He says once you’ve scooted back to lay more comfortably against the pillow, letting your upper body sag back a bit with a sigh. You turn to regard Beast Boy with a thoughtful hum, staring him down as you remember what he and Cyborg had been arguing about when you’d just woken up.

“I can feel that.” You retort rather sarcastically. Beast Boy is starting to sweat at the knowing intensity of your gaze now, and he takes a deep breath to try again.

“Well then, all the more reason to take it slow.”

You choose to ignore that, “Did you two actually bet on if I’d die again?”

Beast Boy gapes in disbelief, flapping his hands in front of him much like you were doing earlier, a look of pure horror on his face.  “What! No! No! Not exactly—“

Not exactly?

Cyborg is suddenly standing right behind his friend, large metal hands dropping heavily onto his shoulders. The weight immediately shuts Beast Boy up before he can dig a deeper hole for the both of them, but he winces nevertheless at what he’s just said, especially when he sees the displeasure in your expression. “It was never a question of if you’d ever wake up again or not, it was more of a when.” Cyborg soothes, and you feel the irritation seep from your body all at once. Fine, you decide in a rare moment of forgiveness (crap, this was all so weird, like...like you’re swaddled in your own personal twilight zone). They were off the hook for now.

“You have a lot of faith in me, Cyborg.” You mutter, tone only half-joking.

He grins, “Vic. Short for Victor.”

“Good to know.”

Beast Boy ducks from Cyborg’s hold, morphing into a tiny, tweeting canary—and once again losing his shorts in the process, oh my god would you stop that—to circle the bed once in a bout of fluttering wings and pretty bird song, before delicately perching on the cast positioned across your lap. He looks up at you, beady black eyes focused intently, until he opens his pointed beak to try and make you see reason.

“I still think—”

You lightly poke the tip of your finger against his small feathered chest, still feeling that consuming guilt with how anxious most of your friends seemed to be. “Hey, I’m okay, B.B., seriously.”

“Garfield.” He chirps helpfully. You nod, filing his name alongside the others in your mind; a little surprised they all gave away their identities so easily.

“Garfield, I’m fine. You don’t have to be so worried about me.” You assure him, “Sure, I’m a little roughed up, but I’m also breathing and talking, and more importantly, alive.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I just...”

You can’t help but boop his beak teasingly, “Hey, no negative feelings today, okay? None of that gloom and doom stuff. Besides, brooding is Robin’s job.”

There are snickers all around the room and you swear you can actually feel Robin rolling his eyes at you this time. You didn’t even think that kind of thing was possible. Starfire leans back against Robin’s legs, smiling up at him as Cyborg starts to lose it in the background, his laughter pulling louder, silly giggles from both you and Beast Boy. The corner of Raven’s mouth begins to lift, an amused smile playing along her lips.

“(Y/N) does make the excellent point.” Starfire declares through the noise.

“I have to agree.” Raven adds, easing up the hood of her cloak over her head, until the features of her face are swallowed by shadows. Robin crosses his arms over his chest and sits up straighter, eyes narrowing at you.

“I do not brood.”

“Dude.”

Cyborg gestures at his expression, “You’re doing it right now.”

“That does not mean it is a bad thing.” Starfire promises kindly, hoping to soothe his annoyance by softly patting the brace on his knee. You lean towards him, smirking in delight at the way he’s practically pouting.

“Yeah, we love you for it.” You tease.

“Okay, laugh it up.” Robin exclaims, bumping your shoulder with his playfully. “But, you know, we could just focus on getting breakfast going instead of criticizing my many talents.”

Starfire shoots up into that air, twirling in a tight corkscrew before landing gracefully on the floor. She claps her hands, “Oh, yes! Breakfast sounds wonderful as well.”

Beast Boy twitters in agreement, leaving his place on your cast to circle in the air again above your head.  He comes to a hovering pause by your face, tipping right and left with little dips of his wings that make it look like he’s dancing to some imaginary beat.

“I can do that!” He shouts, body rippling with a ridiculous amount of energy for something so little. “Pancakes?” He asks in a rush, beginning to jerk back from your personal space until you can see him without needing to cross your eyes. You point at him, fixing your friend with the kind of serious expression you’d usually reserve for missions.

“Uh, hell yes.”

“Aw, sweet, I got ‘chu! On it! These are gonna be the best damn pancakes you’ve ever had.” He swears sincerely, peeling off towards the closed door of your room. Cyborg lunges to get it open in time, Beast Boy’s tiny green figure vanishing from sight once he darts through the gaping space. Cyborg peeks out the open door to watch the canary’s zigzagging path for a moment, squinting down the hall with a level of suspicion that makes you laugh again. He sighs and turns back to you, already stepping out to pursue.

“I better follow and make sure he doesn’t sneak in anything tofu related.”

You nod in approval, “Bless you.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

With that, he disappears out the door as well, his heavy footfalls fading into the unknown. Starfire gasps dramatically, as if just remembering something very important through all the entertainment, the look on her face bordering on comically elated. She hooks her arm with Raven’s and begins to tug her reluctant form towards the door.

“OH! (Y/N), I almost forgot! I wish to show you something truly exciting. Come Raven.” She proclaims, bouncing the two of them into the air. “We will return in a moment.” She zooms out over the threshold with Raven in tow, the blowback of wind tumbling unsteady piles of extra first-aid pieces, empty take out containers, cans of soda, and bottles of water scattered around surfaces in your room. Evidence that they truly hadn’t left your room in long while. Your chest grows a little warmer at the thought.

“I don’t know if I should be scared or not.” You casually state, turning to look at Robin.

“It’s harmless, trust me.” He reassures, stretching his arms above his head and then circling them to get rid of the stiffness in his shoulders. There’s the sound of bones popping and you gag, waving him away from you as he slowly slips off the bed. He smirks at your reaction, “Well, I’m going to go stretch my legs for a bit. Do you wanna come? I think you could try crutches if you put your mind to it.”

“No, I think I’m okay here. Sitting up is enough exercise for me right now.”

“Noted.” He says, limping to follow the others from your room. “I’ll be back too, give you a minute to relax before the crazy starts again.”

“Sounds like a dream.” You agree, letting your body slouch and unwind in exhaustion until you’re slipping back down the pillow. “Hey, Dick?” You call before he’s totally fades from your vision.

He pauses, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Robin shrugs, smirk widening as he begins to draw the door closed behind him. “It’s no problem, (Y/N/N). You’re not so alone anymore.”

*********************************************************************************

Part two is now up! ♥

[stunudo]

Move Not

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dr. Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Setting: Season 5

Following up from Don't Move and others.

A/N: This starts off as absolute fluff. You've been warned. Happy Smuturday!!! xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

You didn’t know what Spencer was getting to, but you stood and walked to your bedroom. He followed slowly, seeing his pants were back in order and he didn't slip with his cane on the still wet floor. Now that you had pleased him as your master, you wondered what else he possibly had in mind to keep the game going.

You took in your room, Spencer had tidied it up while you were making a mess in the kitchen with the suds. You saw a heating pad on your side and a book of poetry he had bought early in your relationship, placed specially on his bedside table. There was even a little chocolate on your pillow.

"For my lady," Spencer's voice explained softly from the doorway. "I can't keep from worshiping you, in the end. As much as I enjoy the power, I enjoy watching you get worked up more."

He walked towards you now, his large hand reaching up to cradle your face. It was warm and the absurd tears of affection had begun to cloud your vision. You stood there, drenched and weeping, falling against him.

"Not too much fun am I now, eh?" You laughed against the tears.

"No more for tonight, Pidge." Spencer sighed against your neck. He carefully undressed you, leaving you in just your panties. You fell into the warmth of your sheets, letting the heat work wonders against your tight muscles. Spencer tucked you in, leaving a gentle kiss on your temple.

"I'll be back in a moment, I've got to get these and those towels in the wash," He carefully scooped up your wet clothes and hobbled out of the room. You popped the candy into your mouth and waited for him to return. Despite your nap, your body was welcoming the extra rest. Spencer eased beside you and opened the book towards the back. His gentle voice eased you into dreams.

Two weeks later

You sighed, the silence was boring into you as the void in the room grew. Spencer had you dressed up in a full costume; a gauze-like dress with an intricate corset over it. The pale yellow fabric translucent against your skin as it cinched over your breasts and flared out again at your hips. Underneath, you were completely bare, as per his instructions. He had left what felt like an hour ago and here you were sitting on a stiff wooden chair doing fucking needlepoint.

This had better be worth it, because you did not have the patience for this kind of detailed hobby. Which Spencer knew, of course he knew and he was making you wait. You rolled your eyes at his clearly formulated plans and continued to push the needle through the fabric over and over again. His apartment was absolutely frigid and if he didn’t get back here soon, you were giving up the game and putting on a sweater.

After what felt like half the afternoon, Spencer returned, he had a picnic basket on his arm and a bottle of wine in hand. “How goes your crafting, my lady?” His voice gentle as he eased his way across the room to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

“This is absurd and you know it. I can’t do this, Spencer.” You dramatically protested. Spencer’s eyebrows rose in feigned disbelief.

“If the lady doesn’t finish her work, she cannot play.” He simply stated, turning his back to drop off his purchases to the kitchen.

“You mean I have to make something on this--this, wheel? In order for you to touch me?!” You were beyond done now.

Spencer stopped and spun, dropping his cane down like a gavel, his face had completely changed and an intensity zinged throughout the room. “You will sit there and finish your work, Y/N. And you will do it, in order--.” He slowly exhaled, his voice a quiet rage, “In order for me to fuck you, properly.” He licked his lips and stared you down.

You had stabbed yourself so much that your blood was now fused with the canvas, but you had completed, something, on the needlepoint rack, or whatever it was called, frame? You cleared your throat to get Spencer’s attention as he sat away; reading and drinking the wine he had bought for you.

“My Lord?” Your voice was overly genial.

“Yes, Y/N.” He didn’t look up from the pages.

“I finished my work. Would you like to see?” You held up the monstrosity, careful not to move from your assigned seat.

“In a minute.” He replied lazily. Bastard. You tried to remain calm, but your patience was well and spent. He was enjoying this game more than he should.

He finished the book completely before looking back at you. You kept your back straight and your face as soft as possible so as not to set him off. He dramatically got up, leaning poignantly on his bird-headed cane. “Let’s just see what we have here.”

Spencer took the project from your hand and glanced over it, he looked back at your innocent expression and cleared his throat. “Interesting quote you used, can’t say that I would have used it myself.” He played along, for which you were grateful as you weren’t sure you could stay in one spot for much longer.

“Sir? May I be excused? I am quite stiff.” You asked huskily, peaking from beneath your lashes.

“By all means, Y/N. Your work is done, but your master requires you to dine with him, shortly.”

“Of course.” You bowed your head slightly before stretching your legs around the apartment.

Y/N’s pupils were dilated and her chest heaved beneath the confines of her outfit. The swell of her breasts was distracting him throughout the entire meal and she had caught him staring, more than once. The warmth of his blush was heightened by the alcohol; pushing his desires to the forefront of his thoughts. He was in control and he was going to enjoy himself. Damn it, she dropped his napkin. The curve of her backside just inches from his left hand, visible through the delicate fabric of her dress.

He tried to stifle a moan in his throat, unsuccessfully. He succumbed to the burning need that had been unnecessarily contained for long enough. He stood suddenly, the chair falling behind him as he grabbed Y/N’s hips. Rubbing his clothed length against the meat of her ass. She purred as she straightened herself, her hand reaching back to stroke his neck.

“My Lord is still hungry it seems,” Her voice was pure need.

“Is my lady ready for dessert?” He replied, bending down to kiss along her exposed collar bone. He was going to cum in his pants the way she pushed back as she whimpered a simple, “Always.”

Spencer growled and began dragging the thin skirt up her legs in desperate bunches. She bent forward, placing her top half upon the table, allowing him to appreciate her folds displayed and waiting for him. He unlatched his belt and let his trousers and boxers drop, his cock thrumming with readiness. He gently licked his fingertips, placing his saliva over himself. Slowly he teased her with his head, the red tip dragging along each side over her ass, along her folds. She impatiently hopped up on tip-toe, giving him the full view. It was delicious and he dove right in.

You were certain Spencer knew this was your favorite position and it was probably because of some anatomical reason, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was how thick and deep he felt inside you. How each thrust sent your insides spiraling and his balls hitting against your clit. This was the fucking you had hoped for and he was nowhere near done with you, yet.

The tightness in your legs sent you rolling your hips, hoping to bring him to the brink sooner. You arched your back and he hit that sweet spot. You groaned as your body began to take over. Each sensation was overwhelming, your core fluttered with his increasing rhythm. Spencer clawed at your skirt against the table edge, trying to get a better grasp. The sound of tearing cotton was lost as he grunted. “Y/N, you are, mmmmmhmmm, mine. fuck, yes.” He moaned, his breathing getting away from his calculated persona.

“Yes, sir,” you panted, he slammed harder into you. Your pelvis plummeting against the detailed edge of the table.

“God, you feel magnificent, you know that?!” His large hands massaged your cheeks as he slowed, you could feel his eyes on each insertion and removal of his cock. The visual of his claiming of you, seared into his fathomless memory for later. The slower pace was more than you could bear, each inch in was fire and each inch empty was a burning quake.

He slowly reached around your hip and pinched at your folds, pining your clit in place as he diligently drew your finish from you. He had frozen inside you, relishing the spasms as you called his name, over and over again.

“Spence-lor- fuck-” The moans desperate and petulant as he increased the friction against your swollen nub. You fell broken, against the table, your entire being spent.

“My lady earned her dessert today.” Spencer back away, leaving your ass bare and cooling in the open kitchen.

“My lord did more than his share.” You replied as a final shiver shook your body, you slowly stood on uneasy legs. You each took a minute to gather yourselves. He smiled his awkwardly amused smile and your heart hurt.

“Maybe I can put in a little more work today?” You teased, sliding perfectly into his embrace. “I mean, if my Lord has further tasks that need doing.”

Spencer tucked his hair behind his ears and bent down for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm and reminded you that this was just for fun. That the truth of it was held in his kiss. After a few tender moments, he nibbled down your jaw. “I have some ideas.”

When you woke, you found your needlepoint had been trimmed and hung on the wall, for any passing visitor to see. You giggled into the palm of your hand, that would be quite the welcome, with blood smudges and simple tulip patterns on either side:

Please, sir Fuck me Properly

[baelllamyblake]

The First Female Reaper ( Bellamy Blake x reader AU )

Summary : You’re a female grounder who’s been kidnapped by the reapers of the mountain men. Dr. Tsing has cleared you for the Cerberus Project and Bellamy has been going to the ends of Earth to get you back from the evil intentions of Mount Weather.

Pairing : Bellamy Blake x fem reader

Warnings : Lil’ bit of gore, couple curse words, not too bad. 

Word count : 1,716 words. wowee i have a problem i don’t think i know how long one shots are supposed to be

A/N : yep, another long one. my inso for this one shot is just i never really saw a female reaper so i was like hey never been done before lets do this shit and i just took out Lincoln and replaced him with Y/N. i think it’s long but i think it’s still pretty good ( i hope )

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED SO PLS FUCK ME UP WID IT <3 

The world felt like it was moving in slow motion and the light was blinding. The noise of heavy boots and crunchy leaves echoed throughout your muddied brain, lighting off pain receptors like a million flares all at once. Your vision was blurry and your right eyelid left sticky from the drying blood on your face. You moaned in pain while trying to stretch your limbs. Strong arms and hands held your torso and legs in place. Your hands were bound tightly together. Someone was hauling you away on their shoulder but you couldn’t figure out who. It definitely wasn’t your boyfriend, Bellamy. He would’ve been kissing your face all over, begging you to stay awake for a few more moments. It didn’t matter anyway, you passed out after fading in and out of consciousness for so long.

Bellamy was worried, what if you were dead? He couldn’t stop pacing back and forth in the bunker while Finn was busy interrogating the one-eyed grounder about a damn watch. He was desperate to find you as Finn was desperate to find Clarke. He frantically wished you were by his side, holding his hand and keeping him grounded. Bellamy missed your beautiful smile and the way you talked when teaching him about Earth. He yearned to find you and bring you back home.

A bag was snatched off your head and revealed your surroundings. It was a dimly lit tunnel in Mount Weather. The memories came flooding back painfully as you kept glancing around at your surroundings. Octavia successfully bargained for you but Reapers attacked and kidnapped you. You wondered if Octavia and Bellamy were out there looking for you. Your daze was broken when the door at the end of the tunnel opened and a bunch of people in rubber suits walked into the low light.

“ Harvest, harvest, harvest… ” A woman with a clipboard looked to the fellow grounders before marking them down. Another man in a rubber suit began to inject the reapers with a crimson elixir. You narrowed your eyebrows in confusion after watching the reapers groan in relief and lay still in ecstasy. You brought your attention to the woman who kept marking grounders off. She stood before you and the helmet lights illuminated her features. You grimaced at the tan woman in anger. You didn’t deserve to be here.

“ Mark this one for the Cerberus program. ” The woman said, ticking another mark on her clipboard before observing you one last time. The mountain men grasped you by the biceps and you were too weak to rebel against their grip. The men dragged you to a dark, humid room before shoving you roughly into the centre. You turned around and was met with a torrent of boiling, hot water.

You woke up, fighting for air but was hitched to a chair by a numerous amount of straps. You wailed into your gag, jerking at the ropes, trying desperately to rip them off. The door opened and you lifted your head as much as you could to see who came in.

“ Hello, I’m Cage Wallace. ” the slimeball of a man said, running a finger along your jawline. His cologne burned your nose. All you could do was whimper in fear. He motioned over a guard with the same gun you saw the rubber suit man inject the reapers with.  Your eyes grew glossy with tears.

“ The first dose is always the worst, honey. ” Wallace said smiling, not a single shred of sympathy could be found in it. The needle pierced your skin and you felt the drug be absorbed into your bloodstream instantly. You felt a high so unrelenting, you bit the gag in agonizing ecstasy. The convulsions were intense and your body went limp yet you were still clinging to life.

“ We’ve got a pureblood on our hands, boys. ” Wallace happily said, clapping his hands together while you inhaled and exhaled heavily, tears streaming down your eyes. Days and weeks passed but you didn’t know that, you just knew when the Mountain men were coming to torture you and give you your next vial. The torture grew in intensity: longer and more frequent shock treatments and higher dosages. They were conditioning you to become absolutely terrified of the high-pitched shriek a tiny machine emitted. The withdrawals were debilitating your ability to think of anything else but the red drug you craved so badly for.

Cage even had you kill a man for it. You were transformed to a hollow shell of yourself: enraged, hungry, and addicted. Wallace finally let you loose and you killed whatever you could before having to retreat to Mount Weather for that lovely red liquid.

Bellamy and Octavia were teaming together to find you and a way into Mount Weather without getting killed. Unfortunately, they were cornered into a dark and musty car garage by the enshrouding acid fog. Two guards accompanied them before splitting off. You killed the both of them in an rabid frenzy to satisfy the unyielding hunger for blood. Bellamy and Octavia stopped cold in their tracks at the sight they encountered. It was you with white paint splayed across your face, contrasting against the blood running down your chin and neck. You were hunched over Sgt. Scott’s dead body, devouring the meat and skin off his bones like a wolf.

“ Oh my god, Y/N.. What the fuck have they done to you? ” Bellamy’s voice broke as tears pricked at his eyes. You rose at the sound of his voice and immediately stormed the siblings in another blind fury. You tackled Octavia onto the ground and started strangling her. She latched onto your hands, trying to pry them off. Bellamy raised his gun and forced himself to pull the trigger. The bullet hit its mark, piercing your shoulder. You jerked off Octavia in pain, fleeing away from the two into the shadows of the garage. Octavia jerked up, almost hacking up a lung. The siblings quickly hid in a nearby car, hoping that you wouldn’t find them.

“ What are we going to do, Bellamy? Y/N’s a fucking reaper. ” Octavia choked out, her throat felt like it was on fire. You lurked around the car garage, on the prowl for the Blakes. The two hatched up a plan to get you out of Mount Weather and somewhere safe. Bellamy called out, grabbing your attention. You charged at your boyfriend, Octavia coming from the side to shock you in the ribs, knocking you out cold.

You slowly woke up, unfamiliar of where you were.  You started screaming, foaming at the mouth and thrashing around in your chains. Bellamy kept watch over you from a distance, he felt guilty having to tie you down like a wild animal. Clarke and Octavia observed you from a close yet safe distance. You tried to strike one of the girls, the effort rendered futile.

“ I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them. ” Clarke said astonishedly after noticing the purple needle marks in your neck. Bellamy scanned your angry face, nothing of you was there. It was completely replaced by severe addiction and violence. “ If they can do that to Y/N, what are they doing to our friends? ” Bellamy asked Clarke while examining your furious features, longing to embrace you in his arms.

Bellamy just stood in front of you, arms crossed over his chest. You pulled against the ropes as hard as you could. Your wrists started bleeding from the friction of the chains . You continued to thrash around before the chain attached to your wrist severed from the wall and you socked Bellamy square in the face. He staggered backwards, tripping over boxes while holding his cheek in pain. You yanked an ankle restraint out of the floor while Bellamy was disarmed. Clarke immediately scrambled over to constrain you. Your leg jolted out into her stomach, sending her flying onto the ground, dry-heaving. A steel pipe, wielded by Octavia, collided with your skull, sending you to the floor with a dull thud.

Clarke began operating on your shoulder, successfully getting the bullet out. Bellamy sat by your side, regardless of how dangerous it was. You finally looked peaceful despite having to be knocked out. Bellamy moved the hair out of your face and stroked your forehead gently. He needed you more than ever before.

The shit really hit the fan when Octavia barged in with Nyko, screaming that the commander is drawing near with a grounder army to massacre Skaikru. You seized multiple times, Clarke was able to revive you with chest compression but she didn’t know how long the compressions would work. Bellamy wasn’t going to give up on you though, he stuck by your side through every seizure and every coughing fit. He loved you far too much to lose you to addiction.

You seized once again, Abby darting to your side and commencing the chest compression. Bellamy squeezed your hand tightly, eyes growing wide when Abby slowed down then stopped completely.

“ It’s not working, it’s too late. “ Abby sighed out, looking to Bellamy. In a split second, he initiated the chest compressions. Abby was taken aback by Bellamy’s desire to keep you alive, she wasn’t aware of the relationship you shared. Abby scurried for a shock baton and in a last ditch effort, she shocked you in the chest in substitution of a defibrillator. You weren’t breathing so Abby shocked you once more. Your eyes shot open as you jerked to the side and started hacking. Bellamy sighed out in relief, he squeezed your arm as you coughed harshly.

You looked to Bellamy with tears in your eyes and embraced him tightly. It felt so good to feel something other than craving and emptiness. He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you as close as he could. “ I love you so much, Y/N. I’m sorry you had go through this. Thank you so much for staying alive. “ Bellamy choked out, crying into the crook of your neck. Your heart swelled and you broke down.

“ I owe you my life, I love you so much. “ you strained out, your throat crying in misery. Bellamy just pulled you closer and didn’t let go.

He couldn’t afford to lose the love of his life again.

[krokodile]

movie watched in 2018, just three n this one with two behind a cut because spoilers for movies older than all of you :P

battle of the sexes - holy fuck, so good.  SO SO SO GOOD.  look, i usually can’t stand emma stone and i rarely like sports movies.  but i loved this movie so much i couldn’t shut up about it for days.  emma stone and steve carell are fucking flawless, and watching the bonus features, seeing how emma lights up whenever billie jean is onset, it’s clear how strongly she felt about doing this right.  and it absolutely shows.  her transformation goes beyond the makeup (although holy crap they did a good job with that).  her performance is remarkable; i won’t take back all i’ve said about how annoying i’ve found her over the years, because i did, but i underestimated her (which i guess is thematically appropriate for this movie :P ).  she is immensely skilled, and her desire to do this project justice is plainly visible.  the fire in her eyes when she’s on the court is fucking magnetic.  i can’t say enough about how much i adored this performance.  and i generally feel that biopics bring out the worst in actors (academy catnip though they may be).

steve carell nailed his role as well, but that was no surprise; i knew he would be perfect.  i hope he gets his oscar for this, finally, though i’m assuming 3 billboards will sweep all the major categories.  andrea riseborough is predictably perfect, and cute as a bug’s ear - i’ve always thought she was incredibly pretty,  but this is the first time i’ve found her adorable.  she and emma stone have the most insanely believable chemistry - i don’t think i’ve believed an onscreen relationship more, in every facet.  

the movie looks amazing; it drops you right into the 70s with no detail ignored.  and, you know, having lived on planet earth, i knew how this story ended.  and yet, i was nervous.  i was on the edge of my seat wringing my hands through every set.  i wanted to stand up and cheer.  i just...i really loved this movie.  i expected to like it, because reviewers i tend to agree with raved over it, but i didn’t think i’d fall in love with it.  easily one of the best to come out of 2017, at least for me.

when the wind blows - this is the best movie i NEVER EVER WANT TO SEE AGAIN.  oh my god.  look, if you know this movie, you understand me.  if you don’t, how do i sum it up?  an elderly couple living in (i think) rural england has been following the news of a seemingly inevitable nuclear conflict approaching.  the wife is largely unconcerned - after all, they made it through world war ii, and enough time has past that the memories have become romantic - and the husband is confident that the government pamphlets instructing him to whitewash the windows and create a shelter out of doors will instruct him well.

...you know where this is going, because there’s only one way this story can go.

bombs fall, everyone dies.

but not like that.  while most of their area is flattened, their home stands.  and at first all seems well.  emergency services will be along soon enough to rescue them, after all.  the pamphlets instruct them to stay in their little shelter for fourteen days to avoid fallout, but the impracticality of that is immediately apparent, and after all - if you can’t hear it, feel it, see it, how can it be harming you?  

sure, they’ve had headaches, but stress, you know?

if you for some reason have been meaning to see this but haven’t gotten to it, and don’t want spoilers, skip this, because i really can’t figure out how to explain how quietly horrific this film is without spoiling the entire thing.  

the couple - jim and hilda - quickly grow bored indoors and stroll around their garden, chatting about how nice everything will look once it’s grown back next season.  

yeah,  you’ve correctly inferred just how much denial they’re in.  hilda notices a neighbor’s dog in the distance and worriedly comments that it must be hungry; we can see that the dog is not only dead but partially fused to the ground.  grimmer still is jim’s comment that people must have put sunday dinner on early in the week; he can smell the meat roasting.  hilda mentions her worsening nausea, which jim attributes to a woman’s inability to handle stress.  

the water runs out, there are rats in the toilets, and hilda and jim can’t quite pinpoint why they feel so off; so tired and weak.  surely nothing a cup of tea wouldn’t fix, but that’s out of the question now.  still, emergency services should be arriving any moment now.  they wonder how their son and his family are faring.  

jim wonders if hilda is wearing lipstick; she isn’t.  her gums are bleeding.  but surely it’s a result of ill-fitting dentures.  they’re old; it happens.  those strange sores on their limbs must be varicose veins.  they’re old; it happens.  bloody diarrhea?  hemorrhoids.  they’re old; it happens.

jim runs out of answers when hilda’s hair starts coming out in handfuls - or perhaps he’s simply too weak to speak much at this point.  

ultimately, they retire to their tiny shelter, both finally acknowledging - wordlessly but clearly - that no help is coming.  with no better ideas left, hilda suggests they might pray.  jim, endearingly, begins his prayer with “dear sir,” which hilda suggests is wrong.  they are, after all, an old married couple.  

mid-sentence, jim ceases to speak.  and that is all.

this movie came out in the 80s, as part of that boom of nuclear holocaust films that flooded the nation at that time.  but unlike the thrillers or the family dramas, this film is almost painfully quiet.  jim and hilda have no fear.  there’s no screaming, no crying, just wondering why on earth their son seems to have gone mad at the news.  war is survivable; they’ve done it before.  there are no horrific shots of dead bodies, of people burned and in agony.  just jim and hilda, quietly transforming from round-faced little old cherubs to hollow-eyed skeletons.  

and my god, they make you love them.  they’re fucking adorable, with their accents and their quaint little house.  they bicker, but you know neither would know what to do with themselves without the other.  (the sweetness of their relationship is, i imagine, what makes the moment where jim carelessly calls hilda a “stupid bitch” as she refuses to get into the shelter - the oven’s on, the laundry’s still on the line, she really should take care of these things first - so disproportionately upsetting.  it feels personal, somehow.)  

the movie looks absolutely gorgeous.  the characters are animated, the home is done in 3d models, manipulated with stop motion, and the blending of mediums is startlingly seamless.  the character designs are simple - jim looks rather like an elderly charlie brown, with a large round head, dots for eyes, a little squiggle mouth and little else - making it all the more effective when the effects of their sickness start to visibly affect them.  there’s no gore, nothing hyperrealistic, and yet the images are deeply disturbing in ways eli roth can only dream of being.  

as the saying goes, one death is a tragedy; a million, a statistic.  we can speculate about the number of lives lost if nuclear war breaks out, but somehow that will feel less devastating than watching just these two.  there’s nothing exaggerating, nothing made “bigger” for film.  just the quiet, horrible truth.

and fuck, it’s a sick feeling when you remember that this is exactly what we did to every single japanese individual who didn’t immediately die when we bombed them.  they died in days and weeks after with radiation poisoning, or years later of blood and bone cancers.  either they went through this themselves, dying horrible, agonizing deaths that they couldn’t even feel the hope of curing, or they helplessly watched their families.  numbers are sobering, but the reality of the suffering is nauseating.

oh and i mean trump seems determined to bring about the same fate to the us, so there’s that to think about, if you didn’t feel shitty enough.

it’s an absolutely brilliant piece of art; one of the best animated films i’ve ever seen.  but i think it’s best to go in warned about what you’re seeing.  you know it’s going to be sad, you know they’re going to die, but...you should know that it’s worse than you’re envisioning.

still.  see it.  it’s on youtube.  

ringing bell - because shit, i didn’t already want to die enough, right?  it’s bambi, but with sheep.  oh, and instead of growing up and marrying his cousin, bambi joins forces with the hunter and becomes an expert gunman.  

yeah.

honestly, i didn’t like it, and not for the reasons you might think.  yeah, it’s sad, but i didn’t think it was well put-together.  the first third is just a baby lamb called chirin prancing around being nauseating (or cute, i guess).  the second third is an irritating, dumb baby sheep deciding he wants to become an apprentice to the wolf who killed his mother, which...okay, i can accept that he’s come to reason that only the strong survive (there’s an absolutely gutting scene, one of the few done well, where the lamb attempts to rescue a bird and her eggs from a snake.  the mother is killed, and in the scuffle, the eggs are broken.  the image of chirin wailing “why do the weak have to die?” is going to be the thing that fucks me up for the rest of my life.  jesus christ.) but we see NONE of this - he goes from hunting down the wolf determined to kill it, the wolf knocks him down a fucking mountain, he climbs back up and declares his intent to become a wolf.

we get a rocky movie’s worth of training montages, and really a whole bunch of nothing for the second act.  i’ll give it credit for having the wolf’s design be badass as fuck and for the hunting scene having more realism than i’d expect from a sanrio production (yeah, this came from the people who brought you hello kitty.)  but the story elements are really ignored.  we never do find out why the wolf never just ate the damn sheep when it came looking for him.

the third act is better - chirin’s adult model is the stuff of nightmares compared to his cotton fluffball appearance in the earlier scenes, and everything looks gorgeous and is animated far better than what came before it.  i won’t spoil the story of the ending, but the final shot, of chirin alone, wailing for the wolf in what sounds creepily like a howl, is...depressing.  it’s not SAD.  it just comes with a resignation that makes it so much worse than just being sad.  of course this is how it ends.  what else could there be for this wretch, no longer a ram, but not enough a wolf?

it’s a short, about 50 minutes, and at first i was thinking it might have worked better as a feature, but really, it would’ve worked better at the same length, just with differently-applied focus.  still, i appreciate its existence.  i think the 70s and 80s realized what we’ve forgotten now - kids eat up the dark stuff, the cautionary and morality tales.  when things are scary, you get to feel proud and excited that you made it through.  when things are sad, you learn to remember that happiness returns.  when you experience loss vicariously, you begin to understand it, how to process it.  when you see death, you accept it as part of life.  kids WANT to understand these things; they WANT to know more than what they know; they WANT to take on tough things and overcome them.  WE want to keep them “safe” and “innocent” - they know that that’s the opposite of what they need.  

that said, if any kid i’m watching wants to watch it, i’m going to another room until it’s over.  JESUS.

[peter-pan-hoe]

Pan’s Pet pt2

Reader is a omega werewolf (teenwolf style) and being young and pack-less, she is taken to Neverland by the shadow. But things aren’t much better than home.

P.O.V change to first person bc I’m terrible writing ‘you’ instead of’I’ plz don’t b mad xx

Warnings: grapic-ish descriptions of gore-kinda. recount of mass murder :P general grumpiness

masterlist

part 1

Weeks.

I didn’t leave that cage for weeks. I didn’t speak to anyone for weeks. I was fed from a bowl of scraps for weeks. I couldn’t feel my wolf side for weeks. I felt completely weak… for weeks.

Maybe longer.

I don’t really know. I was going off the phases of the moon. A whole cycle and a bit.

I was referred to as ‘mutt’ and ‘puppy’.

Felix got a kick out of calling me ‘the bitch’

Asshole.

I did notice that Pan never really used any names. Simply referring to me as ‘her’. 

He never had any insults or slurs anymore when he came to visit me.

But I still didn’t speak to him. I couldn’t even look at him for the first week or 2.

He’s started to smile when he brings me food or water. Often nicer things that Felix brings. He brings leftovers or scraps whereas Pan has brought me full pieces of bread and some apples.

I know what he’s doing.

He’s training me.

Dickhead.

Just because he put a collar on me doesn’t make me an actual dog. 

I’d been planning an escape for a few days now. Make him think his plan is working, do what he asks, etc. Maybe he’ll let me out and I can make a break for it.

I finally had the guts to put my plan into action one morning when Felix got to me real bad.

   “Morning dog-breath,” he chuckled as he kicked a bowl of bones with hardly any meat scraps on them. “Is there a particular reason you’re on your own? Aren’t wolves meant to be in a pack?”

He crouched down and gripped the bars as I glared at him.

   “What did you do that no one wants you?” He said this as I instinctively pulled my lip back to bare my teeth, even though they were human.

He only laughed and walked away. 

I reached through the bars and began pulling off the small pieces of meat as I heard footsteps. 

Pan? 

I put my plan into it’s first phase.

I felt my lower lip quivering as my lack of blinking caused my eyes to water and ‘tears’ fell down my cheeks.

   “Don’t listen to Felix,” Pan said as he showed himself, walking out from behind a bunch of trees.

I forced a sob as I put a piece of meat between my teeth.

   “Here,” he held out a a plate with some chicken and a piece of bread.

I didn’t move to take them but I looked up at him.

   “I’ll just leave them here,” he put the plate next to the bowl Felix left and began walking away.

Here we go…

   “Thank you,” I said as quietly and innocently as I could.

He stopped walking and looked back at me with visible shock on his face.

   “So you do remember how to talk,” he said with a seemingly friendly smile.

I reached through the bars again and started pulling apart the bread.

   “Can I ask you something?” he said slowly.

I didn’t say anything but I looked at him again and nodded.

   “Why are your eyes blue?” he turned to me fully.

I honestly didn’t expect that, and my shock was evident.

   “Sorry,” he said. “I have met a few werewolves in my time but they either had gold or red eyes. Is it because you’re omega? Beta’s are gold and Alphas are red right?”

   “No,” I said slowly. 

   “No what?” he sat down on the ground and rested his arms on his raised knees.

    “I mean yes,” I started. “That’s right, but my eyes aren’t blue because I’m omega. We’re just betas so we usually have gold eyes.”

    “Can I ask why then?” he looked at my like he really wanted to know but I didn’t trust him.

   “It’s the same reason I was turned away from my old pack,” I said. I began to feel truly sad as i recalled what happened.

The blood everywhere, shreds of flesh under my claws, her blank eyes bore through me as she lay there, her heart beat once, twice, then never again.

She was the first.

   “I killed a girl,” I said finally. “Well, I killed more than one person but the first one turned my eyes blue for ending an innocent life,”

   “Seriously?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I nodded. “I was new, and she scared me. I was in the woods trying to get away from some hunters and I was panicking because I couldn’t find my pack,”

   “You said she wasn’t the only one?” he leant forward a little on his legs and looked at me with genuine curiosity.

   “I hid in those woods for a day or two before the moon was full an dI hunted down the hunters,” I told him. It was the truth and I don’t necessarily enjoy the story but it was what happened. “I slaughtered all six of them one by one over the coarse of an hour. My pack deemed me too violent and blood crazed to be a part of their docile pack,” 

I exaggerated my anger a little but it was for show. He didn’t seem to pick up on anything.

   “You killed seven people?” he seemed honestly surprised. “You don’t look viscous,”

   “Well that’s because I’m a person not a beast,” I spat.

   “Right,” he looked down. “Sorry,”

I was getting tired with this charade.

   “You don’t need to act like you care,” I spun on my backside and turned away from. “I know you don’t. Just go away,”

   “You think I’m faking it?” his voice sounded a little offended.

I looked over my should and saw he’d stood up, with a very convincing hurt look across his childish features.

   “Obviously,” I scoffed. I jiggled the chain around my ankles. “I’m your pet why should I believe anything you say?”

He walked up to the cage and with a wave of his hands, it unlatched and the door swung open.

   “I rule over an island inhabited by lost and lonely children,” he waved his hand again and a leather cuff appeared around my wrist. “I have you kept here because they boys are scared of you and your abilities. Felix takes it too far but I truly care about your well-being,”

With a final wave of his hand, the chains vanished, but I could feel the cuff keeping my power away.

   “I don’t believe you but whatever,” I turned away from him again.

I heard him sigh as he stood.

   “You’re welcome to join us by the fire if you’d like Y/N” I heard him mutter as he walked away, leaving the cage open, clearly trusting me not to run.

NEXT CHAPTER

[alibiflame36-blog]

Best Times to Visit Austin and What To Do

One of the best things about living in Austin is all the outdoor food and music festivals. Once spring hits there is SXSW and PGA TOUR’s Dell Technologies Match Play tour with non stop crawfish boils and swim time. Here is a list of my favorite events in Austin when you are not coming for a bachelorette or bachelor party (unless you want to tack it on around these)!

SXSW

SXSW , a two-week conference and party, is actually my favorite time of year. My New York City x West Coast world’s collide in my own town, and it’s SO cool! WHERE else do experts from the food, film, tech, music, and politics gather together in such a close nit space over two weeks- not even in NYC or LA. If your company is able to shell out thousands of dollars for a badge, you have access to see speakers like Kevin Systrom and Mike Kreiger from Instagram, Julia Kramer from Bon Appetit magazine who decides the “Hot Ten” best restaurants each year, producer and musician T Bone Burnett, comedian Kathy Griffin, marketing guru Bozoma Saint John.The Taco Meet up is also really cool as you get to try about 5 of the best tacos from around Austin.

If you don’t (like me!), there is still SO much going on and a lot of free parties and panels that brands through that are considered “unofficial.” A few of my favorites included: Outdoor Voices annual “A Brunch of Jogger’s,” Facebook’s concert showcase with Toro y Moi and later Ghostland Observatory through their other division Oculus, GOOP’s pop-up store and event with Brahmin bags (it does help if you have friends to get you in that work at these places), Malverde’s rooftop shows during music week above La Condesa, South x San Jose Free Concert Series in their parking lot with pop-up shops, panels by local entrepreneur’s and companies like: Bumble, Kendra Scott, Planoly, Packed Party.

The tip is to follow them on instagram, facebook, or subscribe and you’ll get all the invites and details! I was also lucky enough to see the preview of Hulu’s Shrill with Elizabeth Banks and Aidy Bryant, thanks to a friend who works for the theater here in Austin. Sitting on the same row as these actresses and producers and watching their work for the first time with them is an unmatchable experience. Texas Monthly, Yeti, Uber Eats all had music events and parties, and Rainey is another good place to check out activations and free stuff. Lastly, Wanderlust Yoga has free yoga for the whole two-weeks at Republic Square Park and a few great local brands like Juice Society, Fit Joy, GT’s Kombucha, Culina, and Cara Caulkins Communications hosted a Festival Recovery Lounge at a lovely Clarksville home to help those kick back into gear.

PGA TOUR’S DELL TECHNOLOGIES MATCH PLAY TOUR

Usually, the last weekend in March, this golf tournament takes place right by Austin 360’s bridge which has a great view of Lake Austin. Pro’s like Bubba Watson, Tiger Woods, Kevin Kisner play on the lovely course from Wednesday – Sunday with lots of local bbq, tacos, wineries, beers, Grey Goose lounges. It’s very intimate walking around and you’ll see the same folks and friends jaunting. There is also a lot of local fun going on with Save Muny more locally if you don’t make it out there.

CRAWFISH BOILS! Austin has an overflow of breweries, distilleries, BBQ joints, and outdoor music venues. You’ll find that right at the end of March and beginning of April that these places are dishing out the mud bugs with live music! Perla’s, TLC, The ABGB, and Scoot Inn to name a few.

AUSTIN FOOD & WINE FESTIVAL

C3 puts on this Austin Food & Wine Festival that showcases chef demos, wine tastings, and mostly local Austin and San Antonio chefs showing off their goods at the big Grand Tasting event held at Auditorium Shores with live fire pits, too. You’ll see cooking demos from some national big wigs like Jonathan Waxman, Nancy Silverton, Sarah Grueneberg, Aaron Sanchez, Andrew Zimmern. There are also evening events at Auditorium Shores like Grillin and Chillin where Tim Love hosts an outdoor dinner that you get to learn how to use a grill for. Rock Your Taco is always on Saturday night at Fairmarket with all kinds of taco creations from about 16 chefs and live music.

HOT LUCK FESTIVAL- Memorial Day Weekend

To kick off summer partners, Aaron Franklin (Franklin BBQ), James Moody (Mohawk and Guerilla Suit), and Mike Thelin (Feast Portland). This is extremely different than Austin Food & Wine. It’s all about the music and some baller chefs from all around the country doing their thing in a laid back atmosphere (even at Wild Onion Ranch) where it feels like it’s just a bunch of friends coming together to eat and drink. It’s everyone’s favorite chefs and restaurants flying in like Sara Kramer & Sarah Hymanson from Kismet in LA, Alon Shaya from New Orleans, Chris Shepard from Houston, Christina Tosi from Milk Bar all hanging with OUR favorite Austin chefs. The weekend food line up for 2019 is here. What makes it so great if you aren’t into diving into an entire food event is that you can still be a part of the fest and attend to music shows and feel the energy of the weekend. Some of these spots still have some creative chef snacks there, too and tickets are a much lower price point if you just want to dip in or even last minute. See the music line up that includes Leftover Salmon, Lucero, New Breed Brass Band, here.

NATURAL POOLS + SPRINGS

My favorite places to take a dip or do a cannonball include:

Deep Eddy Pool – grab a burger and a tiki drink at Pool Burger after

Barton Springs

Greenbelt or Sculpture Falls

Paddle Board on Town Lake

South Congress Hotel Pool

Hamilton Pool- make reservations in advance

Float the Guadalupe River

Rent a boat or party barge on Lake Travis or a boat for the Lake Austin party cove

Lake Austin Spa & Resort getaway

AUSTIN CITY LIMITS If music is your beat, ACL Music Festival is just ask exciting for you as SXSW is for me. The city is again flooded with musicians and awesome shows that play not only two weekends back to back at Zilker Park but also at music venues around town for smaller private late night shows at spots like Stubb’s, Scoot Inn, Mohawk,etc as well as surprise pop-ups at Continental Club and I even saw Arizona at a Chipotle! Each weekend, there are 3 days of full line ups for Friday, Saturday, Sunday with headliners such as: Paul McCartney, St. Vincent, Metallica, Blood Orange, The National, Sofi Tukker, Nelly, Odesza, Chvrches, etc. If you want to step up your game, go for the VIP tickets. You get your own double decker viewing area of the main stage, unlimited drinks, sparkling waters, lunch and dinner, braid bars, clean bathrooms, etc. People also love to come for all the local food and beer tents at ACL Eats. Torchy’s Tacos, Salt Lick BBQ, vegan cookie dough from Skull + Cakebones, Amy’s Ice Cream, Blender’s and Bowls, Austin’s Pizza, Juice Land, The Mighty Cone. It’s super hot- do not forget a hat or sun screen!

TEXAS MONTHLY BBQ FEST Each year the Top 50 Barbecue restaurants (according to Daniel Vaughn at Texas Monthly) come to the Long Center to put on a 4 hour BBQ festival with around 30 booths serving smoked meats, mac ‘n cheese, pie’s, beer, big red, whiskey, and Desert Door Sotol. There is live music and great bands to sit and sway too after you start experiencing the meat sweats. This past year was the first time Franklin BBQ did not attend the fest because he did a more exclusive ticketed private dinner at the shop the night before. Some of my favorite ‘cue included: La BBQ, Micklethwait Craft Meats Lamb Chorizo Kolache, Snow’s BBQ, Louie Mueller’s Taco, Truth BBQ, Texas Pie Company that served 4 kinds of pie in one boat!

Source: http://www.chekmarkeats.com/best-times-to-visit-austin/