#but I loathe sunlight lol

[cr4yolaas]

— forget me not . kaeya x reader

synopsis . you loved him, and you thought he loved you too. you had to pay for your ignorance. [concept from @/o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok]

warnings . angst !! i use a lot of rhetorical device stuff idk. arguments (kaeya and reader), one-sided relationship, kaeya is manipulative, little bit of gore-type descriptions towards the end, barely proofread, idk if i characterized anyone properly lol

notes . umm i was going thru my google drive for school thingies and ended up finding this from so long ago n i was wondering why it sounded so unfamiliar . realized i nvr posted it 😭

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered.

perhaps, the reason your chest felt so light was because you had placed the heart of clay once encased within your body into caramel hands. your heart, carved and sculpted to perfection by those who sat in celestia, had been put in the care of another.

how foolish.

and yet, you played with the idea. enjoyed it, even. the cotton in your ribcage began to feel familiar, warm, and you loved it. you loved the fuzzy sensation that blossomed when you caught a glance. you loved the grins that were smudged onto your face because of a man who had no cares and all the cares in the world. you adored it. and thus, you craved.

kaeya alberich. a name that rolled off of your tongue so gracefully, dripping off of the edge of your own chapped lips. a name that you called every so often, what with your position in mondstadt’s knights of favonius.

the concept that was once dreadful morphed into something you now deemed funny. you, an aspiring knight, wished only to protect your city. and instead, you had fallen for the man who was to help you reach that goal. stupid, stupid, stupid.

sword clashed against sword, the ring of metal echoing amongst the courtyard. there was no malice nor hatred laced in the slashes, no. there was adrenaline. excitement. energy. you could not say you loathed the one you were battling with, for he was the one that made your chest flutter and your teeth rot. adolescent grins were carved onto each of your faces, euphoria spilling through the cracks in your teeth. a sword clash that was not one of war or death or anger. in this moment, you couldn’t feel stupid. you could only feel ecstatic. joyful, even, as your blade knocked over his, and his eyes widened with both shock and pride.

“i’ve trained you well,” he spoke between heavy breaths. you watched as he walked over to pick up his sword, examining the worn hilt and the scratches painted across the metal. “excellent job.”

a mere hum escaped your lips, cracked and burning, as you lay on the floor. the cold stone was refreshing against your skin.

above you, a singular eye that reeked of crushed blueberries and ocean waves stared down. kaeya let out a gloved hand to assist you, pulling you up from the ground. “you can go home now. rest up. we have work tomorrow.” the words were soft to the ears, and you could’ve sworn the small grin on your face grew thrice.

kaeya sat in his office, waiting for you to bring him his coffee for the morning as usual. however, when you stepped in, you wore an expression of slight uncertainty, playing it off with a nervous smile. “sorry. i didn’t know which drink you wanted, so i got green tea, since i heard from lisa that it’s good to have in the earlier hours of the day.”

the man furrowed his brow at the cup. the green liquid that sat peacefully inside the porcelain seemed mocking, almost. “now, i thought you knew i prefer earl gray? you’ve always been good at keeping these things in that pretty little head of yours.”

“ah, i must’ve forgotten — apologies. i’ll do better next time.” kaeya dismissed the apology, staring down at the drink confusedly. the soft green was a great contrast to the obsidian black he was used to. he chose to ignore it for now, sipping at the drink absentmindedly.

you carried on with the morning, dropping off papers for your captain to finish and greeting the other knights. kaeya did the same, sitting at his desk and scribbling away with his favorite pen. and yet, the interaction continued to linger at the back of his head, itching at his skull endlessly.

odd.

you watched as jean dismissed herself from the building. the eyebags scribed onto her features were prominent, yet familiar. you pitied her for the stress placed atop her shoulders.

the halls of the headquarters were now silent. however, through the wooden door, you could hear the rough scratches of pen against paper, the sound seemingly louder than the hum of air around you.

this had become routine. kaeya would drop you off at your house once he finished his paperwork, wish you farewell, and make his merry way over to the tavern. you found comfort in the way he complained about work on the way back ( despite this, he never thought twice about quitting his job ) and how he would question you about your day right before reaching your doorstep. he held a tone towards you that was akin to honey, to dandelion kisses that you would constantly indulge in. unbeknownst to him ( or maybe he did know, after all ), he had you wrapped around his finger with every glance, every word.

both of you approached the door, your hands reaching for your keys. kaeya prepared to turn around, only for your grip to reach the end of his sleeve.

“...please stay.”

the aloof smirk on his face melted into a softer smile. “anything for you, dearest.” he stepped through the doorway, his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.

kaeya welcomed himself onto your couch, motioning for you to sit beside you. “so,” he muttered. “what’s making you crave my presence?”

“i don’t know.” the response elicited a chuckle out of him. “... ‘m not sure. there’s something comforting and warm about talking to you. i can’t place it.”

your voice was soft, something he relished ever so slightly. he knew exactly what you were saying. it was a shame you didn’t.

and it was a shame he didn’t feel the same.

either way, he chose to succumb to your personal fantasies, feeding into them slowly and tantalizingly. “i may feel the same way.”

for your sake, he told himself.

there was a silence. sickening and dreadful. it gnawed at you, sculpting away at your limbs as you stared at the wall in front of you. “pardon?” your voice reeked of hesitance. his

confession felt ethereal, misplaced. despite the hint of wariness, you followed the hums of the sirens.

“did i not speak clearly enough?”

you gulped, face igniting with flames that even the most violent of ocean waves couldn’t quell. of course, you heard him perfectly. you just couldn’t quite process it. months of pining and obsessing over a man you were supposed to only know as a superior in the knights led up to this very moment spent on the cushions of your couch.

the moonlight that bled through the curtains illuminated his face, however, you still couldn’t place just what was swimming in his eyes. there was no genuineness. but there weren’t any hints of foul play.

and so, you fell into his hands once more.

kaeya seemed to be at his wit’s end lately. and unfortunately, you seemed to be the cause of it.

the crows of the evening invaded your window sill as your supposed lover stood across from you, his brow furrowed intensely as he struck you with his gaze. sharp and cold. the same way he stared at his enemies, those who he despised. maybe, if you waited for the rain to come, for the droplets to wash over the sorrowful earth, it would rid the sour expression on his face. however, rain showers didn’t come in the summer, and instead you would have to deal with the beatings of the sun as it melted the golden melodies you held onto so dearly.

“what do you mean you forgot about it?” venom dripped from his tongue so quickly, slowly forming a stream, a waterfall of white hot anger bleeding through the cracks in his teeth.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“are you, though?”

were you?

it was equally shocking to you. at least, it was once he brought it up. you had promised

to care for kaeya so dearly, and that came with remembering events that were important to him. so why was it that you made other plans today, of all days?

he shifted his stance, transferring his weight to his opposite leg. “he died today. and you forgot,” he took a step towards you. “how dare you?”

there was nothing for you to hold onto as you suffered through kaeya’s wrath, merely

watching as he spiraled into his long forgotten hole of pain and guilt and hatred. what could you do, anyways? he would swat your hand away again. remind you that he didn’t need to rely on you constantly. that he was his own person, and he didn’t need you hovering over him like a mother.

he ran a hand through his hair, the ribbon that held it in the day falling loose. an apology slipped from his lips, watered and broken. before you could reply, he escaped into the depths of night, clicking the front door softly. a rumble grew in your ribcage as guilt crawled up your spine carefully. so, so carefully. you doubt you ever even felt it.

the bedroom door creaked open. yellow rays, soft and gentle, barely there, fell from the crack between the wood and the doorway, and along with them came the man you could barely place. without a word, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving behind no trace. something he did so often, too often.

his arrival caused the book in your lap to fall. you clasped your hands together as you waited. how long were you willing to sit still, to hold for him as he moved as fast or slow as he wanted to?

kaeya slumped onto the bed, his back facing you once more as he propped his elbows on his knees. no words were spoken. the clock ticks and the gentle breezes said everything instead.

just as quickly as he sat, he collapsed into the spot beside you, his legs dangling off of the edge. a singular eye burned into the ceiling, writing scripts that couldn’t be deciphered by even teyvat’s top scholars. a mystery. just as you’d known him to be. just what you’d admired.

the path, eventually, circled back to you, in your mildly bewildered state. scrambled arpeggios flooded the room, the yellow light banished to the hallway as you both basked in the darkness. it was so sickeningly calming. almost as if you hadn’t just pissed him off.

your hands sneaked away from one another, remnants of sweat left on your palms. you didn’t want to look at him. but you did. his eye reeled you in so tenderly. it was far too tempting. and so, you stared, you drunk in every bit of eye contact he spared you, every second spent of silent gazes. you relished in it. and you loved it.

kaeya sighed, lifting himself up from his spot and burying himself beneath the blankets, handing you the wondrous sight of his back for the umpteenth time. vermillion flames of sorrow engulfed your being as you hoped for just a few more seconds, he would give you his face instead.

the bed bore a familiar coldness that the pile of blankets and pillows couldn’t dare rival. sunlit dust filtered in through the window, cascading onto your skin as the sun crawled onto the horizon. this time, the ceiling was barren. empty. the writings kaeya bore into the wood just last night had been erased, gone.

or were they?

perhaps it was your eyes playing tricks on you. your lips parted as you searched through your head for the memory of his gaze, locked onto your own, only to end up with nothing. the image seemed to have slipped from your grasp, sinking through the lines in your fingers.

you needed answers — but unfortunately, work always came first.

the paperwork in front of you was long forgotten, what with the ghouls scratching at your mind and your head resting deep in your hands. your leg shook beneath the desk violently. and at just the right second, a hurried alchemist stepped through the door.

“i’m here to collect a few papers, but,” he spoke, catching his breath — presumably from running from the lab where timaeus and sucrose worked to the knights’ headquarters. “are you alright? you look as if you’re in a state of distress - not from your work.” he held a look of concern that was, surprisingly, genuine.

you cleared your throat, letting your arms rest on your lap. “ah, well... it seems i’ve forgotten about him. pieces of him, i mean. it’s quite frightening.”

albedo closed the door behind him softly to give you both some privacy. “really? how often does this happen?”

“...a little too often,” you spoke, giggling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. however, it was clear that the sound was strained. “i don’t know. he’s slipping from my memory.” the man nodded, lips parting to speak whatever conclusion he came to.

“hm. this is quite a rare case — but existent nonetheless,” he began, leaning against the wall as he started to ramble on. “the name escapes me, but it’s a sickness in which a person who faces one sided love begins to slowly forget about the one they admire. a phenomenon, really. it’ll start off with smaller things such as favorite colors or their birthday, but it quickly evolves into much larger memories like special events or anniversaries. through this process, the victim’s heart begins to deteriorate and rot slowly. as of now, there’s a cure, but no one’s sure if it’s that safe, considering how infrequent this is.” albedo snapped out of his trance of words as he looks back towards you, only to see your lip quivering as dews start spilling from your eyes. “…ah, i didn’t mean to scare you in any way... i’ll take my leave now.” however, before he could open the door, your hand stopped him, grasping desperately onto the end of his sleeve.

“you know how to treat me, don’t you?” he nodded slowly. “please. i could care less about the consequences.”

a hum left his mouth before he left with a single word, “understood.”

if you didn’t continue on with this parade of white hot sorrows, you might as well drown.

the porcelain walls confined you with your thoughts. with your ashen knees bent up to your chest, scrunched up hands buried beneath the water, you’d laugh at just how pitiful you looked. there was a ticking in your skull. it was due to end, to explode if you didn’t get an answer. then again, would there truly be any honest answer? even albedo’s scientific concoctions couldn’t dare get a truthful word out of kaeya in this situation, absolutely not. he was a man of secrets, and frankly, you fell into his trap. the nights replayed in and out on your bed, the book on your lap long forgotten as you stared at your lover’s plastic back. the pages were tainted. stained. all because you were slowly losing memory of his face, constructed of caramel blessings and dulcet poetry. you could not scribble it on paper, nor explain it, nor conjure it up in the confines of your imagination.

perhaps this was a bad dream. a bad dream where his face had been ripped and scratched and marred beyond words. you couldn’t dare face it. couldn’t dare accept it.

and, even through the blemishes of your eyes, you admired him. through the white lines, you adored him, loved him, cherished him.

how stupid.

you had come around full circle. the water in the tub had gone lukewarm from just how long you were sitting and staring, drumming your fingers against the stone of the bath to an unnamed rhythm of disarray. you were not the most religious of people, however, you prayed to whatever god heard you first that he could hear your melancholic symphonies just as well. unfortunately, that much was humanly impossible, for the distance from the house to the tavern was simply too great. he wouldn’t care to listen, wouldn’t tune in to hear a mere note. so you had to deal with your raptures alone. in your tub. as always.

three months had, apparently, been enough time.

however, three months was nothing compared to the five years you spent suffering with kaeya alberich. the cause of your downfall.

you couldn’t remember when it happened, where it happened - but all you knew was that the man who supposedly lived with you loathed you beyond description. there was a fierce stare in his eyes. you oblivious to where it sprouted from, merely observing as he prodded at your bones with a gaze of steel.

eventually, you could barely recognize he was there.

the man in blue had molded his anger into despair. you no longer found yourself victim to his stares, to his stabs. he was looking everywhere but you. and you didn’t know why.

the day you snapped was the day you had been banished from the home completely.

his voice was distant, however, you picked up on tidbits as he explained the situation to albedo, the chief alchemist who worked down in the city. according to him, you had thrown a fit, an unsettleable rage the moment he stepped into the room, purely because you had taken him as a stranger, recognized him as an intruder. the most noticeable part, however, was the look of fear in his eyes. one that contrasted the horrific glares he set you for weeks on end.

and so, as you lay on the wooden table of albedo’s lab, awaiting his arrival, you prayed that the sunkissed man would come too. however, such wishes were those of a fool, a moron, a selfish person. after all, you weren’t sure which sunkissed man you were hoping for, couldn’t place a face to the thought anymore. instead lay a blob of mishapen limbs that haunted your mind as the hours passed. only one man came in, dressed in a lab coat that fit him just right. his presence, sadly, did nothing to soothe your mind.

albedo sat on a chair placed too close and too far to the table. he seemed to be writing so fervently, as if his life depended on it — or rather, yours. with a sigh, he stood up, tightening the gloves that adorned his hands just before standing above you. “are you sure?” he spoke in a gentle tone, one that calmed the crashing waves in your guts and sent the ghouls away.

“yes, of course.”

time was of the essence. the alchemist - although not too experienced in the field of surgery - managed to work around the rot and mold building up inside in a good amount of time, using whatever scientific creations he had at hand. your sleeping form was a rather horrifying sight, for he wasn’t sure if you were still there every few seconds.

soon enough, the gaping hole in your chest had been stitched up neatly, your body dressed up in a plain white gown that albedo had borrowed from sucrose. he slumped onto the floor, not caring for how bad his posture was at the moment. now came the waiting. he would wait for you to awaken, no matter how long that would be, because this was his job - and he was dedicated.

surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that much time until you rose from your spot. he was achingly close to passing out, however, his path to sleep was quickly interrupted as you sat up. “good morning,” you spoke, voice somewhat raspy. you stood up, walking towards the counter to get a drink. “care to explain why i’m in your lab and you’re on the verge of falling asleep?”

“ah... surgery. i’m not sure it’d be very pleasant to hear the cause.” you hummed in response. the soft echo of chatter rang in the hallway, tempting you to step out. “don’t go out yet,” the boy spoke, as if he read your thoughts. “you need to recover for a bit. plus, i don’t think it’d be very fitting to step out in that gown.”

“oops.”

you returned to the table, sitting on the edge and allowing for your bare feet to ghost against the wooden floor. the iron stench of blood was still somewhat present in the air. your blood, you assumed. fortunately, albedo was able to take your mind off of the smell with his ( sleepy ) small talk, reminding you that it wouldn’t be safe to head home just yet considering your state.

it was comforting. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece was missing.

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered once more.

everything seemed to lack its color recently. you couldn’t place it, and it irritated you. however, even while you were stressing over how dull everything was, there was an airiness in your chest that you couldn’t place, couldn’t rip out and inspect. it fluttered so harshly, knotting around your limbs hastily.

perhaps it was because of that sunkissed man who offered to take you under his wing as a knight.

and so the cycle starts again.

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[kiwwia-wiwwia]

God Must Hate Me

A call to your mother goes horribly wrong. Luckily, Matt is there to help you pick up some of your broken pieces.

Listened to God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner and decided to project into my writing!

Matt murdock x reader, hurt/comfort, bisexual!reader Word count: 1.8k Warnings: swearing, religious trauma lol, self-loathing, implied CSA EDIT: I know Catholicism is a part of Christianity!!! This is just based on my parents and how they talked about other denominations :)

Your shoulders shook as you slid down the wall, silent sobs wracking your body. One hand was clutching your phone, the other clapped over your mouth, desperate to contain any noise that might slip out. Sinner, your mother had called you. Hedonist. Sodomite. Her words looped over and over in your mind, drowning out all other thoughts. 

You wouldn’t have called in the first place had it not been for your sister. She texted you the night before saying that she was back home caring for your elderly father who had caught the flu. She said that your mother wouldn’t stop talking about you, complaining that you never called, that she didn’t know anything about your life. You spent that night tossing and turning, contemplating whether it was worth getting back in contact with her. Your relationship with your mother had always been strained, considering the abuse you endured in your childhood, but you didn’t hate her. You couldn’t. You felt a sense of guilt in pushing her away, as if you were abandoning a debt you owed.

What pushed you over the edge was a text from your father this morning. 

Hi pumpkin. I miss your smile. I’m a little under the weather, and I’d love a visit from my girl. Hope all is well. Love, Dad.

Despite everything your mother had put both of you through, you and your father were always close. You had talked to Matt, sharing your dilemma. On one hand, you didn’t really want to speak to your mother. On the other hand, your father was getting old, and you didn’t know how many more visits you had with him. He had always been delicate, getting sick easily and hurting himself by accident. He was also the only person besides your sister who truly understood you until Matt, and you missed him.

“Give them a call,” Matt suggested. He looked so beautiful, his hair catching the sunlight from the window and his body draped over the armchair. His hand lazily grasped a mug, steam drifting up from the warm coffee. “If the call goes well, go over and visit. I’ll come with you, if you want.”

You chewed on your lip anxiously. “And… if it doesn’t go well?” Your fingers picked idly at the rug below you. You were seated on the floor, resting your head against his leg as you sipped your tea. This was your unofficial weekend tradition, the two of you seated in this position while you talked about… well, whatever you needed to talk about. Anything that didn’t get brought up during the week, a dream one of you had, a funny story you had from work. Mornings like this were sacred, the peace and domesticity somehow washing away any other worries. In these moments, nothing else existed except you and Matt, your own little corner of heaven.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly and deliberately raking his fingers over your scalp until you sighed in contentment. “Then I’ll be here for that, too,” he hummed.

Now, you found yourself wishing you had never said anything in the first place. All you wanted was to talk to your parents, check up on them, maybe even test the waters of a possible visit. Instead, you were berated for your lifestyle, called a whore and a sinner and told you were destined for hell. 

“And how’s your love life? Have you finally found a nice man or are you still in your lesbian phase?” You bristled at the comment, knowing your mother never took your sexuality seriously. Your coming out had been a disaster and had resulted in you staying with a friend for two months because your mother couldn’t stand the sight of you. “I’m bisexual, mom, that’s not a phase. But… yeah, I met someone,” you admitted. Your mother scoffed on the other end of the line, which you pointedly chose to ignore. “His name is Matthew, he’s a lawyer here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Such an awful name for a city. Why do they call it that, anyways? It couldn’t have been heaven’s kitchen?” You kept quiet, doing your best to push off the inevitable argument as your mother plowed on. “It’s good that you’ve come to your senses and met a boy. Where does he work? Is he Christian? Does he want kids?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “He runs his own firm, Nelson and Murdock, he’s actually over there right now to grab some paperwork. I don’t know if he wants kids, we haven’t really thought about it. I only just moved in with him, and no, he’s not Christian. He’s Catholic, goes to mass every week.” There was a long silence before your mother finally spoke again.

“You… you moved in? As in… you live together?” Her tone was as if you had just told her that you shoved someone off of a building. “Yeah, I was staying over so much that we figured it wasn’t worth spending money on an apartment I don’t live in.” You arched a brow at her sharp intake of breath. “Mom? You okay?”

“Honey,” she said, her words dripping with venom. “Are you having sex with this man? Before marriage?” You couldn’t help the choked laugh that escaped your throat. “Mom, it’s not the 1800’s anymore. People have sex and move in with each other, it isn’t a crazy concept. My sex life isn’t really any of your business, though.” She made a sound of indignation, her voice an octave higher than when she last spoke. “That is no way to talk to your mother! I can’t believe you would be such a sinner, after everything I worked so hard to teach you. This behavior is disgusting, you know that? Only whores engage in such hedonistic acts.”

You stiffened at her words, years of religious teachings and long hours spent in churches creeping into your mind. Memories of wooden switches and Sunday School songs wrapped their tendrils around your throat, threatening to choke you until you had to plead with God for mercy. You took a gulp of air, trying desperately to keep your voice steady as tears pricked your eyes. “Mom, I’m not going to let you make me feel bad for the way I live my life, especially regarding something as small as who I’m spending my nights with. I just called to see how you and dad are doing, but if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I have other things to do anyway.” Her voice pierced through your phone’s speaker before you could hang up, your name spat from her lips like it was something profane. “All I ever did was try to raise a nice Christian girl, and this is what I get in return? A slut that sleeps with women and men before she’s even married? A sodomite? And he’s Catholic! You know catholicism isn’t biblical, how many times have I told you to stay away from non-Christians?” Tears were streaming down your face at this point, recollection of the confession of your treatment at the hands of the local pastor resulting in beatings. For some reason, you could only form a response to the last part of her rant. “After all of that, catholicism doesn’t seem as bad,” you said dryly.

“If we weren’t on the phone I’d smack you across the face for that. Don’t bother calling again. I’m not interested in hearing the lifestyle of a hellbound heathen.” The call ended with a dull beep, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You distantly registered the sound of the door opening, footsteps coming down the hallway and making their way to where you were outside of the bedroom. Matt knelt in front of you, his unseeing eyes wide with concern. Your name fell from his lips as he cupped your face in his hand, lightly tracing his thumb along your cheek. “What happened? Was it your mom?” All you could do was nod as another sob escaped you. Desperate for some kind of comfort, you reached out your arms in a silent request. He complied without hesitation, drawing you into his chest and letting out a sad hum as you gripped his shirt, clinging to any semblance of stability.

“What do you need, love?” he asked softly, his fingers gently running up and down your spine. “Do you want to talk about it?” You instinctively shook your head and then paused, reconsidering. “I don’t… I don’t know why she still affects me the way she does,” you croaked. “It’s like every time we talk, I’m a scared little kid again.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, shame making your words thick. “She called me a whore, Matt. Called me a heathen for moving in with you, said I was going to hell. There was more, some sexuality stuff and Catholic-shaming you, but that was the main point.”

Matt went rigid, his fingers abruptly stopping their soothing motions on your back. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low. “She’s wrong, love. You know those are just lies, right?” You shrugged helplessly, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you shifted your position, opening up the space between the two of you. “I’m not religious. Not anymore, not after everything I went through in the church.” You sighed tiredly, scrubbing your hand down your face. “But being raised the way I was… it sticks, y’know? That belief system is a part of who I am, whether I want it to be or not, and I can’t help but think… what if she’s right? I mean, I’m not exactly a saint. Usually I’m pretty good at rationalizing all this stuff, but man, God must hate me. I’m such a bad person, Matt.”

He physically flinched at that. “Don’t ever call yourself that,” he seethed. You jerked your head up to look at him, his anger taking you by surprise. His words were sharp, his tone dripping barely-concealed anger. “You are not a bad person for living your life.” You made a noise of protest but he quickly cut you off. “I don’t know what they drilled into your head to make you hate yourself so much, but none of it is true. You’re the most wonderful, kind, selfless person I’ve ever met, and God help anyone who makes you think anything different.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead and you managed a small smile. “I love you. So much,” he breathed.

“I love you too. Thanks for trying to undo my religious trauma even though you have enough of it for all of Hell’s Kitchen. Sorry for crying on your shirt.” He chuckled at that, helping you to your feet. “Nothing to apologize for, love. Now, let’s go to the store. We need to buy some eggs.”

You arched a brow. “We have eggs in the fridge. What are you up to, Murdock?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We have a house to egg, of course. Don’t tell me you’re above petty revenge?” 

You laughed, the tension in your body draining. God, you loved this man. “Of course not. I’m a good heathen, after all.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil netflix #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #hurt/comfort #religious trauma #i'm just projecting lol #matthew murdock

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

eternal youth is overrated - a good omens one shot

Summary: Heartbreak and loneliness have left Crowley marked in more ways than one. Aziraphale helps him see that this isn’t such a bad thing.

NOTES: I’ve always had a bit of a bittersweet fascination with aging (David Tennant’s crows’ feet make me emo in ways I cannot hope to describe), with the sadness but also the beauty inherent in it, and I thought it could be interesting to bring this idea to good omens. The concept was “what if Crowley started getting grey hairs after Aziraphale leaves, if, over time, his physical appearance subconsciously changed to reflect his mental state?” The fact that I wrote this as a 19 year old honestly just shows how much I need therapy, but it was honestly incredibly cathartic to work through some of my own mental struggles via Crowley in this fic. Aziraphale’s pov was equally fun to write, as I basically just got to write how he feels about Crowley based on what I feel about David (lol). Hope you enjoy my first Good Omens one shot- I may or may not make an A03 account if it gets enough engagement, I’m honestly pretty proud of it! Special thanks to my wonderful partner in crime @flyingfluse for providing some much needed inspiration!

PS: The title is actually from a song I wrote called Grow Old With Me (hopefully will be available someday fingers crossed)

——————

It had been a year.

Nothing to a demon, really. In the vast expanse of six thousand years on earth, not to mention the innumerable eons Before The Beginning, a year didn’t count for much more than a blip. But heartbreak is a funny thing. Time, for Crowley, now seemed to pass in a much more human fashion- the year that had elapsed since Aziraphale’s return to heaven, a year devoid of anything resembling laughter or joy, a year spent largely either sleeping or stewing in self-loathing, had seemed longer than the past hundred combined.

Crowley’s gaze blearily wandered to the rearview mirror of the Bentley. His reflection, as everything seemed to these days, mocked him.

Those sickly yellow eyes, reminding him of all he was and all that he could never be, like the sulfur he had been cast into all those millenia ago. On his worst days, it was like he could still feel it, eating away at him from the inside out, decaying his soul and with it, his body. It carved shadows into his cheeks and circles beneath his eyes, deep and dark as caverns. It rose in his throat until he choked on it, leaving his voice hoarse and acrid. It spewed out of him onto everything and everyone, every time he opened his mouth, an acidic bile of rage and bitterness.

He had been destroyed and rebuilt over and over through the millenia, and the product was a rough, hardened callus of a being, like a patch of skin that had been picked at too many times. He felt grotesque, untouchable, damaged- there would be no point to pursuing any new connections when no one would understand, nor why would they want to, when he seemed to turn everything he held to ashes? 

A ray of sunlight leaked through the window of the Bentley, catching upon Crowley’s hair, revealing it to be littered with strands of grey, collecting dust-like in his copper mane. How the mighty have fallen, he thought bitterly. Falling, always falling, like leaves in autumn, their color draining as their forms grow brittle and they become one with the earth. From dust they were made, and to dust, they shall return.

Perhaps in a year, he would be dust too. What would he care?

Demons didn’t naturally age, or so he had thought. But loneliness seemed to have made a mortal out of Crowley, centuries of it crashing down upon his corporation, wearing it to the bones, etching his torment into his skin. He could always just miracle any part of himself back to the way it was, reverse all this damned erosion… but what would it matter? Why even try to keep his hair from losing its color when all the color had drained from his life the second his angel had left it?

He felt so, so old.

A single, desperate sob escaped Crowley’s mouth, cracking out of him like splintering firewood.

As he weeped against the steering wheel, the Bentley switched on its radio in sympathy. 

I’ve walked too long in this lonely lane,

I’ve had enough of this same old game.

I’m a man of the world, they say that I’m strong,

But my heart is heavy and my hope is gone.

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

    The demon lay curled in Aziraphale’s lap, clinging to his chest as a snake might in search of warmth. It clutched at Aziraphale’s soul to see Crowley this vulnerable, the swaggering and smirking stripped away to reveal a heart in desperate need of care and healing- a task Aziraphale considered his greatest duty and greatest pleasure, for he knew Crowley would do the same for him. 

    Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, earning a deep sigh from his beloved, whose brows turned up in fragile, stirring comfort. He loved doing this, both to see how much his touch moved Crowley and because he simply loved his hair itself. Bold, striking, an instant head-turner, just like everything else about him. It was now the longest it had been since biblical times, falling in elegant waves past his shoulders. But oh, something else was different… it was streaked now with rivers of silver, gathering in deltas at his temples. It lit a familiar flame in Aziraphale’s chest; that bittersweet blend of desire and sympathy.

    “You’ve changed your hair, I see”, he said softly. 

     Crowley takes a labored swallow, strain and self consciousness seeping into his face. Whatever he says next, it’s clear that the admission is going to cost him.

     “When you left, I suppose I… let myself wither away.” His voice is lodged deep in his throat, thick and murky, leaking out of him like tar, a sound from the depths of his own personal hell. “Oh, Aziraphale…” he exhales, and it’s one of the most poignant Aziraphale has ever heard.  “I’m so tired. So worn down. So bloody ancient.”

      “So am I, my dear,” he says, trying to come across more soothing than concerned.

     “Yes, but you still shine in the same way you did all those millenia ago… still so bright, so soft.  I’m all tarnished and rusted up… I don’t know how you still want to touch me.”

     Aziraphale gazed down into Crowley’s eyes, piercing and pleading and fragile, like shattered stained glass. At his craggy, rough-hewn cheeks, all bones and edges he’d happily cut himself on to caress. At the deep, deep lines around his eyes, carved there by every grin and grimace and longing and ache. And oh, the silver in his hair… it suited him so, both rejecting and combining black and white with a color all his own. It wasn’t normal for immortal bodies, ethereal or occult, to bear the marks of time and experience as Crowley’s has. But then, Crowley was never an ordinary demon, or angel, was he? No, he was something far more exquisite. 

    “Oh, but I do… I  do…” Affection surges through Aziraphale as he kisses every crease and wrinkle, every scar and every glorious grey, every sign that his dear Crowley has lived. He feels Crowley’s hands winding through his hair in response and kisses those too, those eloquent, spindly fingers and calloused palms…

   “Crowley, my most cherished books… the covers are peeling, the pages are torn or yellowed with age… so why would you be any different?” His heart seizes up, his voice breaking a bit. “I have seen the fire and rain rage within you for so long, and I have seen the marks they have left upon you, and each one is precious to me. You know how I love to read… Why would I not want to see the story of my beloved written upon their face? My 

dear old serpent, my survivor…you don’t have to fight anymore…”

     He pulls Crowley tightly to his chest, drawing the tension from his shoulders and back before cupping the sides of his face as Crowley stares back, looking overwhelmed and old and so, so beautiful. “I want you exactly as you are. Rough and hard and frayed at the edges… you will never be too much of any of these things for me. In fact…” A slightly wicked twinkle forms in his eye as he smiles pointedly at Crowley: “They make you more tempting to me than ever.”

    Crowley processes this for a moment. “Well…” he croaks out, that hint of playful snark finding its way back into his throaty timbre, “I suppose there is something to be said for… shades of grey.” Aziraphale laughs, remembering the words he himself said to Crowley all those years ago, on the same night he realized just how much he adored him.

   Crowley smiles, that crooked, twisted, perfectly imperfect smile that Aziraphale missed, his eyes crinkling magnificently at the corners. “Kiss me,” he whispers, and Aziraphale is happy to oblige. Happy that Crowley, bold, fierce, independent Crowley, could finally let his guard down, could finally embrace that all of his scars and imperfections, every mark of time upon his face, everything he ever thought made him damaged and ugly only made him more beautiful in his sight.

#good omens #Ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #david tennant #michael sheen #fanfiction #fanfic #hurt/comfort #Pro-aging #Anyone who has ever wanted to read Crowley with grey hair this is for you #Song: mother love by queen

[sweetestofchaos]

I Loathe You || K.NJ

✘ paring: dark elf!namjoon x human!reader

✘ rating/au/genre: m (18+), fantasy au, hate smut

✘ summary: As a Dark Elf, Namjoon hates humans...so what happens when he finds out the object of his lust is one?

✘ word count: 2.6K (rounded up 5 words lol)

✘ warnings: sex work, dubcon, unprotected sex (magic is used as a contraceptive), ass smacking, choking, cursing, hair pulling, degradation (whore), oral (m!receiving), breathe play, crying, knife play, mentions of blood, scratching, interspecies relationship, platinum haired namjoon, frenum piercing!namjoon, big dick!namjoon...namjoon isn’t nice in this, like at all. he’s an asshole

a/n: Inspired by @vvh0adie​ after they saw this wonderful piece of artwork by @/elizabesu (not tagging in case they don’t read fanfiction). I stayed up until 5am writing this...I hope you enjoy it hun! 

a/n 2: I’m really bad at describing outfits, so this is what Namjoon is wearing if you can’t visualize it.

Masterlist

Namjoon walks the streets alone. It is getting late but he is young and has time to waste. The Golden Rope is overflowing with music and laughter as the beer is passed around from patron to patron. From his current place, Namjoon can see that the brothel is packed, and he scowls at the thought of his favorite hole being unavailable to service him. Sweeping his eyes over the semi empty street, Namjoon takes notice of a woman that is watching him from across the way. One look at her brown skin tells Namjoon that she isn’t a Dark Elf like himself, he wonders if maybe she is a wolf. Which he deeply hopes not… maybe a Wood Fae. The Fae women always make such pretty sounds when Namjoon indulges in his more carnal urges.

Knowing that the rooms in the brothel are at max occupancy, Namjoon smirks to himself as he runs a hand through his platinum hair. How long has it been since he fucked under the red moons? His onyx eyes glitter at the thought, the woman’s body from what he can see is inviting enough. She has more weight on her thighs than most Dark Elves and that is tempting. How will those thighs feel squeezed around his waist as he takes her over and over again? Will her skin bruise at all or just absorb the shock? Namjoon licks his lips at the thought. Catching the woman’s eyes once again, Namjoon raises a dark eyebrow, and the woman walks into the space between The Golden Rope and the storage building beside it. ‘Clever girl’, Namjoon thinks and follows the young woman into the dark.

Seeing the woman leant against the wall, Namjoon strides right up to her and tucks a twisted strand of hair behind her ears. He sees no pointed tips, so clearly, she isn’t a Fae of any kind…pity. A wolf will have to do, with her looks, Namjoon is willing to overlook it. Her eyes remind him of fresh honey in the sunlight, warm and soft. Namjoon cups the woman’s jaw gently in his palm and smooths his thumb over her glossy lips.

“Quite the distance from your land little wench.” Namjoon stares down at the woman and she blinks up at him, her lip’s part slightly to allow Namjoon to slide his thumb between them. As she sucks on his thumb, Namjoon cannot help but think his plum skin tone compliments her brown skin nicely. “From which land do you come?” Namjoon removes his thumb from her lips and smears her spit over her lips and chin as he waits for her to answer.

“Does that matter?” The woman reaches out and touches the bare skin of Namjoon’s chest that his white blouse doesn’t cover. For it being late into the Fall the weather is still warm in Peolomos and Namjoon has no need to protect his body from any harsh conditions.

Namjoon chuckles as his question is meant with another question. He tilts her face up towards him and skims his nose along her hairline. “Name your price little wench.”

The woman shivers as one of Namjoon’s hands glides across the exposed skin of her chest, just grazing the top of her breasts. Looking at the gold rings on Namjoon’s fingers the woman licks her lips, “Three bornihn.” The woman leans in to kiss Namjoon and he pulls his face away with a deep laugh.

“Only three bornihn little wench?” Namjoon twirls a twisted lock of her hair around his finger and trails his nose along the length of her neck. “Tell me which land you were born, and I’ll give you one mihot.” The woman’s eyes widen at the offered amount and Namjoon kisses her pulse point teasingly. “What do you say?”

The woman runs her hands up Namjoon’s chest and starts to untie the black accent scarf around from around his neck. She can see thick golden lines inked into his skin and her mouth waters. “What is your name?”

“Namjoon…and yours?” Namjoon feels the woman’s body tense at his name, does she know who he is? “Come now,” Namjoon purrs as he strokes the side of the woman’s face. “I don’t bite…unless you beg for it.”

The woman pulls away from Namjoon and places her hand on his chest to push him away. Namjoon stares down at the woman and as she stares up at him something clicks as he takes her in. Her skin isn’t flawless but it’s clearly than any wolf he has ever seen up close. Her clothing is modest, showing far less skin than a wolf and her scent…there is no earthy undertone of any kind. Namjoon’s eyes harden at the realization and the woman flinches.

“You little whore!” Namjoon snaps as rage courses through his body. How dare she! How dare t-this human touch him like that! In the blink of an eye, Namjoon grabs the woman’s wrist, and she cries out from the sudden movement. Namjoon glares as he yanks the scarf from around his neck and bounds her hands together. Hands tied tightly at her wrists, Namjoon pushes the woman harshly against the wall, her head bounces and black spots fill her vision. Namjoon’s inky eyes glare at the woman as tears flood her waterline. “I should rip out your throat and watch you choke on your own blood, human.” Namjoon’s hand wraps around her delicate neck and the woman struggles to breath as Namjoon squeezes, the tip of his black nails piercing the skin and drawing blood.

“Beg for life. Even more beg for my cock. That is all you humans care about. Selfish disgusting infestations on the rest of the world!” Namjoon’s grip on the woman’s neck tightens even more and thin rivers of her blood cascade down the front of her blouse, staining the white fabric a bright red. The woman can’t speak, her voice is being crushed by Namjoon’s hand. Her tears fall as she tries to call for help and Namjoon’s free hand quickly covers her mouth and nose making it even harder to breathe.

“Beg. For. It.” Namjoon seethes, the blackened tips of his fingers starting to burn hot from his anger. He pulls his hand away from the woman’s face and loosens his hold for a moment around her neck.

“I d-did nothing wr-”

Namjoon growls not wanting to hear her voice anymore and with a snap of his fingers a golden rune appears on the woman’s lips and her voice is gone. Namjoon clicks his tongue as he watches the woman panic. ‘Pathic’, he thinks to himself and pushes her down onto her knees in front of his flaccid dick hanging partly out of his high waisted trousers. Fisting the black twists of hair into his hand, Namjoon jerks the woman forward and narrows his eyes.

“Well?!” He snaps and the woman is quick to pull his dick completely free from its confinement. He watches as she hesitates to open her mouth and Namjoon growls. “Useless fucking thing you are.” He slaps her across the face, the impact making her head turn to the side. “Do you job, whore!”

Steeling her nerves, the woman faces Namjoon’s dick and it’s big. Bigger than what she’s use to, the tip is a deep plum almost black that gets lighter towards the base that is covered is dark brown pubic hair. A simple golden hoop shines from the underside of Namjoon dick and before the woman can see anything more, Namjoon snaps his hips forward and shoves himself down her throat. The woman gages, her throat constricting around Namjoon slowly stiffening dick. Glaring at the woman below him, Namjoon starts to jerk her head up and down his dick, the imprint of it visible against her throat. Namjoon smirks at the sight and fucks the woman’s face faster. Her tears mix with her drool, and she places her hands on Namjoon’s thighs trying her best not to fall over from the sheer force of Namjoon’s thrusts. She can feel her stomach clenching with each bump against her uvula from the head of Namjoon’s dick. This shouldn’t be making her cunt wet, but she has always liked to mix pain with her pleasure.

That’s the main reason she chose to leave Appeven, the men and women there just were not doing it for her anymore. She had her fun in Eodropia, with the witches and warlocks; they are not a bad bunch, but she craves something more. Seeing that the woman is miles away in her own mind, Namjoon pulls her off him and throws her to the ground.

“Up,” Namjoon orders as the woman coughs and sputters silently, catching her breath. “Up!” Namjoon grabs her hair once again and the woman scrambles onto her hands and knees, struggling to keep her balance due to her wrists still being tied by Namjoon’s scarf. Pushing her skirt up past the woman’s ass, Namjoon feels his dick twitch at the sight of her thick thighs. The light from the moons above casts a red hue on the woman’s skin and Namjoon doesn’t miss the clear, sticky fluid on the woman’s thighs. He glares and raises his hand, sending it through the air and landing a harsh hit on the back of the woman’s thighs. The sound echoes in the night and the woman lurches forward nearly falling face first into the ground. If she could make a sound, Namjoon knows that the woman would have moaned.

Namjoon notices a thin leather band strapped to the woman’s upper thigh and he laughs. “Did you honestly think you could protect yourself with this?” Namjoon pulls the small dagger from the sheath on the woman’s leg and laughs again. “Humans truly are daft.” Pressing the blade to the woman’s skin, Namjoon watches as the flesh gives way and the woman shivers as he slowly drags the blade down the length of her thigh. The cut is shallow, a surface wound at best but Namjoon’s dick throbs painfully at the sight. The blood coats her thigh in a thin layer, making her skin glow even brighter under the red moons. Dropping the small blade and leaning forward, Namjoon’s tongue darts out and he licks the blood. Namjoon cleans the skin with his black tongue and plump lips as he sucks at the tender flesh.

The woman’s body quivers the moment Namjoon’s breath washes over her cunt and he inhales deeply before he pulls away. “Disgusting whore. So wet for me and my dick…you’re beneath me.” Namjoon straightens up on his knees and lines the head of his dick up with the woman’s clenching entrance. Remembering just who is in front of him, Namjoon snaps his fingers once again and another golden rune appears, this time on the woman’s stomach. “Don’t fret, human. I would not dare create a horrid beast such as a halfling with the likes of you.”

Gripping onto her hips, Namjoon smirks and gives a low whistle before slams his hips forward and the woman screams out as she’s impaled on Namjoon’s dick. Air rushes into her lungs and she whines as her walls stretch wildly, desperately trying to accommodate Namjoon’s size. Harsh and fast, Namjoon fucks into the woman, her screams bouncing off the buildings around them as she cries from pain and pleasure. The golden rune on her lips is gone and Namjoon bites his lip as his head drops down. He watches as her thighs jiggle with each thrust, the skin rippling like water as her ass takes each rough smack of his pelvis. ‘Body like a hot spring,’ Namjoon shakes the thought from his head and clicks his tongue. “Disgusting.”

Her velvet like walls squeeze around Namjoon’s dick like a vice and he growls, leaning over the woman’s back to wraps a hand around her throat. His lips touch her ear, and he grunts, “Why so desperate for my cock, human?” Namjoon’s voice is rough as the heat in his fingertips stings the skin around the woman’s neck; she moans. “I loathe you. Everything about your kind is…repulsive.” Namjoon’s balls slap against her clit and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Namjoon digs his nails into her skin once again, drawing more blood.

“Such a waste of a perfect cunt on a whore like you.” Holding himself up using core strength, Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the woman’s wrist and yank them both up onto their knees. The woman wails as Namjoon sinks deeper, the tip of his dick jabbing the sweetest spot inside of her. Throwing the woman’s bound wrists over his head, Namjoon drags his nails down her throat and cups her breasts into his hand while the other digs into the plump meat of her inner thigh. The woman moans his name as she loses herself in the pleasure.

“N-Namjoon! Yes! Yesss!”

Namjoon is rough with his kneading and when the woman suddenly comes Namjoon curses, throwing his head back as he fucks her through it. His stomach clenches and his breathing becomes ragged as he ruts into the woman with a harsher tempo. His body tenses and his breath escapes him for a moment as he fills her womb with his seed. The golden rune on her stomach shines brightly before the scent of turpentine and cotton fills the air.

Pulling out, Namjoon throws the woman to the ground and falls back against the building, heaving as he catches his breath. Meanwhile the woman picks up the discarded dagger and holds it with trembling hands as she glares at Namjoon. Hot tears are streaming down her face and Namjoon pays her no mind as he tucks himself back into his trousers and runs a hand through his damp hair. He frowns as he pulls his hand away and stares at the blood. There better not be blood in his hair.

“Y-You’re a monster!” The woman points the dagger at Namjoon, and he lets out a humorless laugh that makes every hair on the woman’s body stand up. “P-Pay up!”

Namjoon stands to his full height and takes a step towards the woman; she flinches and the dagger tumbles from her hands. Namjoon sneers as he picks the dagger up and grabs the woman by the back of her neck, lifting her off the ground.

“You want me to pay, you?” Namjoon twirls the dagger in his free hand and points the blade right in her face. “You are worthless.” Dropping the woman, Namjoon tosses the blade towards the ground and the woman shouts as the blade slices through the bindings on her wrists. Snapping his fingers once more, Namjoon’s outfit is completely free of any blood and body fluids while the woman is crumbled on the ground covered in blood and leaking his seed between her legs. “See you around, human.” Namjoon points to her wrist and sure enough there are small golden runes that spell out Namjoon’s initials on the inside of her wrist.

She isn’t stupid, she knows that Namjoon has marked her with what is most likely a summoning spell. The gall, after everything that he has done to her body. The woman glares up at Namjoon and he scoffs before he leaves her alone in the darkened space. Staring down at the runes, the woman bites her lip, her whole-body hurts and she isn’t sure that she can even stand up, yet alone walk. The pigheaded ox could have at least dropped her off at her inn.

#i loathe you #soc namjoon #bts fantasy au #dark elf!namjoon #bts ambw #hate sex #tw knife play #tw blood #tw dubcon #namjoon has a dick piercing #i couldn't help myself #exqueuese me #tcv extras

[lollytea]

LOLLY. I AM SHAKING YOU IN JOY AND PAIN. STRAY ITALIAN GREYHOUND. THIS SONG.

Okay, so I of course stole it off your Hunlow playlist because it's perfect for Hunter and how he sees Willow.

or so I THOUGHT. Until TODAY.

BECAUSWHFHAHHD like,

"I've just settled into the glass half empty made myself at home

And so why now?

Oh, please not now

I just stopped believing in happy endings, harbors of my own"

I know that in FTF Willow only lets herself feel this way for a moment, before Hunter reminds her of who she is BYYY:

"But you had to come along didn't you

Tear down the doors

Throw open windows

Oh, if you knew just what a fool you have made me

So what do I do with this?"

He tore open the doors (vines lol) literally and figuratively! And what is she supposed to do with that?? Fall in love. Obviously. How could you NOT after a cute boy teleports you out of self-loathing and doubt!?

LIKE:

"This sudden burst of sunlight

And me with my umbrella"

I AM NOT OKAY. THIS REVELATION HAS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY.

It still works from Hunter's perspective too, obviously, from like ASIAS onward but after FTF I think it works the other way around too and I just. They're just. PAIN. MY HEART BRO. There are so many other lyrics that fit in the little music video in my head of the two of them but I'm literally on my break at work and need to go LMAO

Sorry for just vomiting in your ask box😂

This is the second time this month I've made somebody go insane over the Stray Italian Greyhound and huntlow combo. Vienna Teng put some fucking CHEMICALS in that song!!! Turns the freakin frogs gay!!!!

And YEAH!!! I added it to the playlist back when I made it after Labyrinth Runners. Because that's what I associated it with at the time!!! Hunter's lost his home, his family, his religion, his identity, his sense of safety. He's LOST everything!!! And he's struggling to come to terms with that. By the time Gus finds him at Hexside, the shock has subsided and he thinks he can be functional now. But he's not okay. He's still got a lot going on mentally and it's messing him up.

But at the same time....hallway blush scene....he has his little "Oh. It's her." moment. And I know that he was very confused in the aftermath of the Hexside incident. And when he's left alone to reflect on what he's feeling he's just "Now?? Are you fucking serious?? We're really gonna do this now??? I just found out I'm not a real person and everybody's gonna die next week, is now REALLY the fucking time???" He has ENOUGH problems!! He doesn't know how to deal with this!! But also he can't help it because while he's fucked up and traumatized, he's also brimming with confusing fizzling teenage hormones and she's Willow Park and it's very overwhelming and scary and doesn't know which way is up or down and he has no idea what he's gonna do about this. Feelings like these demand so much from him and after everything he's been through he really doesn't know if he can stomach it. But she won't give him a moment to catch his breath and he's locked in now and there's nothing he can do about it.

BUT YEAH!!!! I've had that playlist on quite a lot since FTF leaked because I have been so not normal about them. So I have NOTICED that it now applies to multiple different angles. And thinking about the chorus from Willow's perspective during the whole vine scene makes me ILL. And then in the aftermath of that....the vibes of that song are so....terrified yet giddy and overwhelmed yet euphoric. How fucking soft and blushy Willow was after that scene. "Just what a fool you have made me" YEAH!!!!

He IS a sudden burst of sunlight!!!

She IS with her umbrella!!!!

ALSO ALSO ALSO!!! Being a girl who has such a tight reign over her own emotions completely falling victim to loserish behaviour during this part? Ready to fucking combust cuz she is being held so gently.

"What do I do, do I do with a love that won't sit still?

Won't do what it's told"

HATE this song, HATE them!!!!

#huntlow #toh spoilers

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Prompts (from your other account, ignore if this isn’t what you want, lol)

how did you get this scar

- lucian x Peter vincent

I'll take 'em on this account as well, haha.

Warning: discussion of injuries, scars, oh, and Peter is trans, because this is me writing

Not sure what au this is for, but it could just be a generic one, take your pick

On with the fic!

--

Lucian had seen Peter's naked form quite often over the weeks since their relationship shifted to something else. He had seen the man half-naked many times before then, and even just down to his impractical undergarments, if you can call them that.

He had seen the marks that marred the pale, scrawny form of his lover. Among the scattering of freckles and small marks were scars that were clearly surgical (such as the ones on his chest and the smaller one on the right side of his stomach). And ones that were more... well... clearly marks that were made for a reason, but were much older than the ones that really caught Lucian's attention.

On Peter's arms, near his neck, and on his stomach, chest, and even his legs were scars.

Bite scars.

Claw scars.

Burns.

Many couldn't be seen without actually noticing them, like the bite marks. They were pin pricks, Lucian had a few of them himself, but the others were curious. Especially this large set located on Peter's chest, clearly unlike the surgical scars under his pecs.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Peter asked, his voice a bit groggy with sleep.

Lucian shifted, sitting up better to look at his sleepy lover. The light in the room was dim, Peter had a mood light and it worked well to both look at the man you're dating during the throws of passion, or to sleep afterwards without bothering to turn off the light.

He could see the scars well enough in this light and he reached out, touching a finger along the long, jagged marks, the skin smooth and pink, if not a little puffy. "How did you get this scar?"

Peter groaned and sat up a little bit better in his mass of pillows. "Same way I got the bites, Jerry and his goonies. Well. He didn't touch me, outside of fuckin' flinging me like a rag doll across the damn hall."

"A vampire did this?" Must have been from some very nasty claws then. But that made since, Lucian had seen the claws of the vampire type that Peter loathed the most up close and personal, they were rather painful.

"Yeah, think it was one of the girls. Really awful, tore up a perfectly good shirt and just... I dunno, guess she was cravin' me or somethin'. Tore right into my chest and started lapping it up like a starvin' animal. It was not a fun experience."

"Well, of course." Lucian's eyes drifted downwards, to Peter's legs. "And these ones?"

Peter glanced down the bed. "Ah, yeah. So, some couldn't get at my neck or torso, went for the legs instead. Didn't seem thrilled about those bean poles, didn't really do too much, mainly some nasty scratches when I kicked about. The sun's what hurt the most."

He wiggled one of his legs. "They tore up my pants, and the sunlight touched my skin and it hurt like a bitch. 's how I found out I was turnin'."

Lucian frowned and pulled him close to his chest. "You're okay?"

"Still sucks ass that it happened and I wasn't vampire enough to heal." Peter sighed. "And I have to wear a lot of make up to cover up some of the damage to my chest, but I'm fine. The burns don't hurt, it's like a sunburn that doesn't give me trouble, but doesn't go away either."

"I don't like that you were injured."

"I don't like that you've been injured by some awful vamps either." Peter's hands touched at the ancient scars that still covered Lucian's back. "But we live, we deal with 'em. And we tell cool stories about them to people who can't mind their own businesses."

#good omens extended universe #lucian x peter vincent #john's drabbles

[accidentally-drank-paintwater]

New Years Kiss

Yeah so I made MORE Wenclair lol-

I’m a sucker for them <3 alrighty so it’s New Year’s Eve or whatever and this is right after the Battle of Nevermore. (I think bc the timeline seemed like the first few months of the school year which normally starts august/September so it’s probably roughly around there)

enjoy Ig :)

Wednesday 1st Person POV

Finally. New Years Eve without my parents. Ever loving with a perfect marriage, New Years was even worse than their normal kissing parade. But now that I was at Nevermore, I’d be spending it with my new…friends? I loath such wording. Enid, Bianca, Eugene, Yoko, Ajax, and Xavier were going to have a New Years Eve party together, which was weird, since none of them were dating. Enid and Ajax had broke up, and Enid said nothing other than “I need time to figure myself out.” Quite vague, which is unusual for ever talkative Enid. Yoko, Eugene, and Bianca had no crushes whatsoever, and I had simply rejected Xavier. He wasn’t my type.

A New Years Party with no kissing. My kind. After much pleading from Enid and Eugene (and a resentful comment of “it’d be better if you socialized for once” from Bianca) I agreed to coming. So here I was, December 31st. Enid was still sleeping (“I need rest if I’m staying up that late!”) but I was wide awake. Thing was next to me, his colorful nails — thanks to Enid — shining in the sunlight. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. What did one wear to New Years Parties?

“Maybe a Dress?” Thing signed.

“I wore a dress for that Rave’N.”

“Then wear some nice pants and a shirt,”

“what would that count as? I’m not going to wear something sparkly.” I added, pointing a finger at Thing sternly. Thing raised his hand in defense.

“Ask Enid for help!”

“I’m not asking Enid. She wears things with color.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, be useful for once?”

Thing flipped me the finger. I sighed and left the bathroom, still unsure of what to wear.

“Hey roomieeee!” Enid said, running up to me, though stopping a few inches short of me. She was starting to get the hang of not hugging me, which I respected.

“Hello Enid.”

“Happy New Years Eve!”

“Yes. Happy.”

“Oh! I made this for you!” Enid rummaged in her pocket, pulling out candy and hairpins. What did she have in there? Finally, Enid pulled out two bracelets. “They’re friendship bracelets! They say ‘E + W <3’, for Enid and Wednesday!”

“Oh. Ya know, I’m not really a jewelry person—”

“Oh. That’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t wear it anyways…”

I looked at Enid and saw the slight disappointment in her face. I looked at the bracelets. While hers was bright, mine was gray and black. It even had a skull charm on it. I sighed. I grabbed the bracelet and put it on my wrist. Enid gasped with delight.

“Oh! Wednesday thank you thank you thank you thank you!!” She said, practically jumping. Such physical expression of emotion was unusual to me. I was used to the disgusting practices of gluing ones face onto another, like Mother and Father.

Thing came up behind me and bent himself low.

“Don’t worry Thing, I made one for us too!” Enid pulled out another bracelet and put it on him, and that’s when I noticed the second bracelet Enid had on that said ‘E + T’. I smiled.

“I’m sure Thing really likes his bracelet.”

“Yes, Thing,” Enid said, giggling and walking away. That laugh was light and bubbly and horridly wonderful. It was as bright as the covers of her pop music. While I hate that excuse for music, Enid’s laugh was the exception. I watched her walk away and then I went to my side of the room. I turned on my phone and called my parents.

“Oh- Gomez dear, how do you turn on the…what was it? Face showing?”

“FaceTiming my horrid temptress~”

“Oh Gomez, you awful bat~”

I sighed. “Hit the button at the top that looks like a camera.” Suddenly, my parents faces came into view.

“Oh Wednesday! How’s my evil little black cat doing?” Father said.

“Absolutely horrid.”

“As usual!” Laughed Father. Mother took the phone from Father and zoomed it out.

“I can’t believe this is our first New Years without you!”

“How time flies Mother.”

“Do you have any one special your going to kiss at midnight?”

“Why would I take part in such gross and romantic traditions?”

“Really? Not even your friend Enid?” I blushed.

“WHAT—” Enid shouted, crossing the room and coming into view of the camera. I covered my face with my hand.

“Hello Enid!” Mother Said cheerfully.

“Um- hi Mrs. Addams,”

“Morticia, please,”

“Morticia. Me and Wednesday don’t like eachother like that. We are just roommates!” I groaned under the table. Thing was on my lap and doing that stupid heart hand (🫰). I was going to murder him.

“Really? But what about that thing on Wednesday’s wrist? I’m not sure about this camera quality but it seems to say ‘E + W’ with a little heart.”

Enid fell silent. I glanced over to see she was blushing too.

“U-uh. Those— AHEM— those are just, um, friendship bracelets,” Enid stuttered. Mother just smirked and said

“Sure,”

I groaned at grabbed the phone. “Enid and me are just friends, nothing more. If you could please leave me alone now Mother.”

“Ok my little raven, we’ll go now. Your cousin Itt invited us to a get together anyways and we must get going. Be safe! Love you!”

“Yes yes, goodbye Mother,” I said hanging up. I turned off my phone and looked at Enid. Her hand was over her mouth and she was staring into a corner.

“I apologize for my mother Enid. She had no intent on making you uncomfortable.”

“W-what?” Enid said, looking at me. She started backing away and pulling at her shirt collar. “no! Haha, we’re just friends after all! Your mother was just joking, I’m sure! Um,” Enid grabbed the door on and swung it open, “I forgot I was going to go see Yolo- I MEAN YOKO- to err- give her something. Bye!” She finished, slamming the door behind her. I leaned back and covered my face.

“Uggggghhhhhh,” I cannot believe that happened. I uncovered my face to see Thing above me.

“You do Like her don’t you?” He signed. I shoved him off and got up, walking out to the balcony.

“Of course not. We’re just friends. Besides, she was freaked out by it anyways. She obviously doesn’t like me like that.”

but no matter how much I repeated that, all I could think about was the way Enid blushed. The way I blushed. How stupid.

Enid came back after 30 minutes and grabbed a couple of clothing items, and left within 5 minutes. I sat at my writing desk and didn’t acknowledge her. I was screaming internally. It was like someone turned on one of Brittany Spear’s love songs in my brain and I couldn’t turn it off. It was torture.

Around 9 PM, I finally got up and decided to get ready. Luckily, Thing had an outfit idea all ready. I had to admit it looked good. A white large collar button up with bishop sleeves and some black silk slacks. I paired them with my chunky (✨) boots. I took my braids and twisted them into a low bun in the back of my head. I looked wonderfully terrible. (Author’s note: Enid would say she looked ✨ Snazzy ✨)

I arrived at the location of the party, a teachers longer with a cable TV, so we could watch that weird Dick dude’s show where the New York hall dropped. I was greeted by Bianca first, who was dressed in a gold sequined dress.

“Wow, the edgy savior showed up. I suppose I should bow before the hero who saved my life?”

“Even that would be low for you Bianca,”

we both high fives and Bianca told me that everyone else was by the couch. I walked over and everyone was there, except Enid. Oh no. Did Mother freak her out so much she didn’t show up?

“Don’t worry, your wolf gal is here, she’s just in the bathroom,” Yoko said, sporting a striped pantsuit and heels. I didn’t say anything about how she claimed Enid was my ‘wolf gal’ (the lack of comprehensive grammar was hurtful to my ears) but I was plotting her death in my mind. I grabbed a cup of the dark red fruit punch and waited until Enid came out. When she did I nearly choked.

Enid was wearing bright gold bellbottom pants with a white tank top and a shimmering see through top. She had flowers on her pants and flower jewelry. She looked pretty good. I definitely wasn’t used to seeing her so dressed up.

After everyone had got a drink, Ajax pulled out a game called ‘Cards Against Humanity’ which was shockingly inappropriate and fun. We played through all that then played a quick round of Never Have I Ever (turns out both Bianca and Yoko had vodka before) before it was already 11:58.

We turned on the TV and sat together as the clock began counting down from a minute thirty. Enid was sitting next to me. I already knew how this would go. Xavier and Bianca would kiss as friends, Ajax and Enid would kiss, and Eugene and Yoko would take a drink of their punch. I wasn’t a fan of New Years, so I would sit and feel no difference between this year and the next. It was all another day. But as the clock reached ten, and everyone else began cheering and counting down, Enid grabbed my hand and pulled me up to stand beside her, her arm around my waist.

10. I looked at Enid.

9. time slowed.

8. I looked around

7. Xavier and Ajax were standing together,

6. Eugene, Bianca, and Yoko all had drinks

5. They had dared the boys to kiss on midnight.

4. Enid looked at me.

3. Her smile faded

2. I leaned in closer.

I closed my eyes.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Cheers all around me. Horns blowed and laughter ensued at the boys pecking. And something warm. Warm and soft. It was on my lips. I opened my eyes. And there was Enid, her lips pressed on mine. I closed my eyes and pulled Enid closer. Two mouths combined, two hearts turned into one whole. I finally understood what my parents felt. Love. Me and Enid pulled apart and looked at eachother. Enid looked at me with shock and smiled. She laughed and pressed her forehead against mine. My lips turned upwards ever so slightly.

“YA! THEY KISSED! BIANCA OWES ME $10 NOW HAHA!” Yoko shouted.

“DAMMIT YOU TWO WHY COULD’NT YOU HAVE KISSED DURING CHRISTMASTIME?” Bianca yelled.

Enid and look over to see them both. Enid laughed along but I silently gave them a glare and they stopped laughing.

“Bro your lips are chapped as hell,” Xavier said, wiping his mouth.

“Yeah right, you didn’t even kiss them, you kissed my cheek like a chicken,”

“I don’t need to feel them to see how nasty and crusty they look,”

“Shut up!”

That New Year had not turned out as I thought. But surprises come when you least expect them. I kissed Enid again to many cheers, and Enid smiled.

Authors Note: yay lesbians 👍 btw that Ajax Xavier thing wasn’t a ship I just thought it’d be funny idk. New Year’s parties are like that 🤷‍♂️ I don’t ship that but if u do that’s cool 👌

also here’s a little scene for y’all ❤️

“Yokooooooooooo” Enid burst into Yoko’s room, where Bianca was sitting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wednesdays parents thought we were dating and I panicked and left Wednesday all alone andsheprobablyhatesmeandidontknowwhattodopleasehelpme—”

Yoko looked at Bianca and did a smug. Bianca glared with murderous intentions.

“Let’s make you look amazing for your girlfriend,”

“Thank you Yoko!”

“Your going to have to pay me back ya know”

“You can be my bridesmaid”

“YES-”

anyways happy new year! Let’s hope 2023 brings us better news! (And canon Wenclair)

#Wenclair #wenclair #Wednesday x enid #enid x wednesdah #Eniday #Wenid #Endday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Bianca Barclay #eugene otinger #yoko tanaka #Xavier Thorpe #Ajax Petropolus #New Years #fanfiction #I still didn’t proofread this lmao #I suck at reading things I write #✌️ #Lesbian #moon lesbian

[paisleycowboys]

Find the Word/Manuscript Search Tag

thank you thank you to @seraphfighter​ for the tag!

The words I have are sound, tense, break, and care.

SOUND

Rogue scans the crowd disdainfully. This is a room full of people she dislikes at best, loathes in many cases. She’s willing to do a lot to survive and even more to get ahead, but these people have willingly subjugated themselves for a sliver of capital. Corpo-rats, supplies the voice in her head that still sounds like Johnny Silverhand after all these years.

(this is an unfinished Rogue/Fem!V fic with my Corpo V)

TENSE (cheating here and using the word intense)

“God, I love this place,” Jackie says when they both nearly get plowed over by the woman driving a cargo cart, its lights flashing as she cuts through the thick crowds. 

V is a spacer, born between the stars out in the black on a nomad ship, so he finds it hard to say he agrees. He’s never sure what to do with the strong gravity of ports or the crowds that congregate there. The anonymity is nice, but V gets overwhelmed and exhausted easily. So many aliens, so many destinations. It’s easy to get lost. 

“Dex should be expecting us,” Jackie says. 

Night City is a glassed-in port city that has its own gravity and environmental system where it hovers in space. Above them, the stars shine beyond a thick pane of duraplast, giving the city the feeling that it exists in eternal night. Being one of the older ports, they didn’t invest in a genuine light-cycle system, which has been the subject of some intense debate over the years—is it cruel to leave humans accustomed to the sun trapped in a glass bubble without sunlight?

(a silverv spacefaring sci-fi AU that I forgot I even had lol)

BREAK

Johnny comes back with two drinks: a tequila old fashioned for himself and a gin and tonic for V. V takes his with a grin.

“See? You actually do know me well when you’re not trying to be a dick.”

Johnny sits down. “Come on, give a guy a break.”

V realizes how odd they must look—two men sitting on the same side of an open booth like weirdos. He can’t bring himself to worry too much about it. He likes Johnny sitting close. When Johnny was in V’s head, he always came with the residual scent of cigarette smoke, a memory of his former self. When he got his body back, the miracle that it was, he never picked smoking back up. He stopped binge-drinking, too. Now, Johnny mostly just smells clean.

“You got this weird look on your face. That racist drunk hit you hard enough to knock some thoughts into your head?”

V frowns and then winces when that makes his nose throb where he was hit.

“Maybe he knocked some sense into me. Made me realize I hang out with the wrong sorts of people.”

Johnny hums and takes a sip of his drink. “I told you that cop Ward was bad news, but who listens to Johnny?”

“Not what I meant.”

(from a silverv snippet that was never really meant to be finished)

CARE

There are three Claws, along with the man on the ground, who is even now struggling to his hands and knees. He doesn’t look like a nomad, with his bright blue fluffy mohawk. He looks more like a shitty NC merc, but Johnny knows better than to judge anyone in Night City on appearance alone.

“Mind your own fucking business,” the middle Claw sneers with his lips pulled back over silver teeth.

“That’s Johnny Silverhand,” says the man to his right, eyes widening.

“Who the fuck cares?”

A bottle explodes over the back of the middle Claw’s head, and he goes down with a grunt. Johnny is left staring right at the nomad, who’s got a sneer on his bloody mouth and a broken bottle in his hand.

“Fucking Claws,” the nomad spits.

(this is an unfinished AU where Johnny didn’t succeed in blowing up AHQ and is still alive when he meets V)

--

Thanks again for the tag!!

#silverv #my writing #tag game #cyberpunk #long post #god I am NOT good at tumblr html help

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay well nothing makes me despair spiral about my job more than spending an entire morning wrestling with my most loathed enemy (canva dot com) but i have DONE IT. it took me almost four hours (gahh) but i created five new workflow graphics + updated this other infographic and now all i have to do is upload them into this module and draft a couple new text sections. the urge to procrastinate further is strong but NO i am going to do those tasks RIGHT NOW so i can be done for the day!!! then i will go for a run!!!

some positive things:

i’ve been working on my new laptop all morning and i like it! it still feels like a Very Indulgent Purchase which always stresses me out (despite having a real job i still have Broke Grad Student Brain when it comes to big purchases). but i calculated how many years i got out of the last one and then divided the total price by # of days i’ll likely be able to use it and it comes out to like, cents per day, which makes me feel less guilty about spending the money. PLUS my sister needs a laptop so i can give her my old but still functional one instead of just having two lying around.

it is sooooo sunny and beautiful out. it’s supposed to rain some next week but i think seattle winter is officially over, baby!!!! and tbh has been for a while? i hear it was milder this year than usual in terms of rain/general gloom but honestly like, i think if i can get through the darkest parts of december + january, winter here is actually quite pleasant and temperate. that was my big worry about the move so it’s nice to have one successful winter under my belt!!

the final decorating tweaks i made to the dayroom/office are just impeccable, especially now that it’s really properly sunny out and the room is full of sunlight all morning long. this space had such bummer vibes for so long and i love that it’s finally become a room i genuinely enjoy spending time in!!!

okay okay. i’m definitely procrastinating on these last work tasks lol but time to get moving!

#i keep putting these returns on my to-do list and then ignoring them #and i think i will probably ignore them again today lol #but tomorrow i have literally one work task that will take all of 30 min so maybe i will just commit to getting up early and #doing all these returns in one fell swoop #(kohl's - target - home goods - home depot - UPS store - tj maxx) #if i just DO THEM it'll only take like two hours MAX #anyway if i put them off till tomorrow then i want to substitute that chore for another one (unpacking + tidying the whole house) #ok GO GO GO

[mindlesspatch]

@gb-patch for the MC showcase! 

#god this game was soooo good #definitely gonna come back and play through it again #it feels like it was released so fast #kinda forgot it was coming out this year so was very excited to get the notification #what a delight #it'd be overjoyed to win the dlc #but lol I tried to follow how I looked as I grew up and how I acted #it was pretty fun #like I actually have brown hair now tho it has kind of a golden-reddish colouring to it?? idk its weird #for a stage of my life as a kid I had strawberry blonde hair #and if I was in the sun a lot it'd lighten #it'd probably still lighten now if I spent enough time outside #but I loathe sunlight lol #and then mimicking my personality #god I was such a quite kid #it was funny to do that in stage 1 #and it was really cool how the game accurately picked up on how id react to things #like fuck when you lie and tell cove you're fine and he can tell youre lying #like I get its prob due to the previous inner thought choices but damn I loved that detail #or when family pulls that trick at the farmers market and Cove talks to you about it #just crazy detail #the only other time I've really played games with such detail is those choiceofgames ones #love those #anyhoo if anyone likes visual novels def recommend this one

[albino-whumpee]

Space, old sibling, vampire, fren shaped

Fun fact, I´m the useless youngest with isomnia and severe sleep deprivation, so that vampire description fits me like a glove xD

Ahh, I wish I could say it´s just alright to slip into my DMs to get a friend, but I dont trust easily and dont have much motivation to talk. Sorry about that.

#I need a bit of sunlight #lol #ask #matterdecay #its pretty easy to get yiked at me ahahha #i dont blame anyone for not talking back to me after the first try #im not that entertaining or fun either so...sorry #sorry for the self loathing;;; #what vibes do i give off

[fuck-goes-on]

Honour

pairing/s: past din djarin x gn! reader because you’re dead

summary: din visits you after a long, long time and bringing grogu along to introduce him to you

warning/s: DECEASED READER (you’re dead, you’re gone, you’re nada), grief, mourning, angst, crying, big hurt but also big comfort, bittersweet, helmet removal, and you’re dead

note/s: somewhat a continuation and sequel to Creed!! this idea was on the whim, like i just thought WHAT IF- and now we’re here LOL this is uh third person omnipresent because i wanted to include what grogu was thinking and feeling KEK

masterlist

Why he came back, he didn't know. Or maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he already knew but refused to acknowledge it.

As the Razor Crest descended from the sky and landed in a forest, there was a coo coming from behind him. He turned around to see Grogu tilting his head like he did whenever he was confused or questioning something. The kid was silently asking him why they were there with his big eyes, when his distress and upset was obvious.

Din sighed and stood up from the pilot's seat, reaching to carry Grogu up in his arms. His steps were heavier than usual with heart ache as they walked out of the ship. His ad'ika perked up and looked around in wonder, admiring the tall, green trees and the sunlight filtering through the leaves. It was beautiful to the child.

But not to Din.

Din brought him and his child back at the planet where he lost everything. The planet where he lost his life. The planet where he lost his soul. The planet where he lost his love. The planet where he lost his heart. The planet where he lost you.

Flashes of your smile went through his head each time he stepped on twigs and leaves. Flashes of those three fucking knives went through his head each time the light hit his eyes. Flashes of his arms holding your dead body went through his head as he slowly walked to your grave.

Grogu's ears drooped down as he felt his buir's hurt. He knew that his buir had dark memories on the pretty planet, knew that being there caused him to retreat into his self-loathing thoughts; He just didn't understand why. Why were they there? Why does his buir always put himself through pain and agony?

It all came to light as Din stopped in front of a mound of dirt covered in grass and wildflowers. Rocks stacked on rocks surrounded the mound and were weathered and aged with moss and cracks. Your name was still visible where it was carved into the largest rock at the top of the grave.

Din fell on his knees, clutching at Grogu so tightly that he squeaks loudly in surprise. His mind was racing with the days when you were the one who was beside him during his travels across the galaxy. When you were the one who made him smile so much the clan would think you were a sorcerer. When you were the one who soothed his nightmares and cries. When you were the one he took care of and the one who took care of him.

Not that he didn't love Grogu, maker above he loved his kid so much that he brought the womp rat with him to see you after so many years. Or, what he left of you.

Placing the kid down on the ground beside him, Din took a moment to just wallow in his hurt, to just let himself be overwhelmed with the negative emotions he pushed away and ignored ever since you passed. Back then, he would've surely lost his mind if he let your death suffocate him into his own demise, but now— Now he has his kid with him. His ad'ika that could have had another buir if you were still alive.

Grogu clawed at Din's cuisse, trying to get his attention as he climbed up on his lap. His buir didn't react, however, and that made him worried. He frantically scraped his claws on the shiny surface of buir's armour, the beskar strong enough that it didn't leave a single mark. When all he could feel was pain and heartbreak in the midst of emptiness, Grogu opened his mouth and wailed as loudly as he could.

Din snapped out of his spiralling thoughts and craddled Grogu back on his chest. His ad'ika whimpered sadly and scratched at his helmet, wanting to see his face. Removing his helmet was still a challenge to do, only having taken it off once and that was when— But he's slowly getting used to removing it for Grogu, for his clan of two.

As his buir bared his face for him to see, Grogu felt his usual smile of seeing his handsome father fall at the sight of his tears streaming down his cheeks. He raised his clawed hand to try and wipe the offending liquid away, and hopefully it would wipe away his buir's sadness too.

Din smiled weakly at his son's attempts at comforting him, at the touch of his son's hand. You would've loved him, he thinks to himself. You would've been a better parent than him, a hardened mandalorian bounty hunter, with your teasing and caring nature.

You would've.

Grogu complained out loud when he was placed down once more but quietened when Din looked at him. He pouted and fell on his butt, sitting with his back to his buir. A large, gloved hand rested on his head and stroked him lightly.

"Grogu..." Din said at last, smiling once more when his ad'ika swiveled his head towards him in response. Holding back his sniffles, he points to the rock that carried your name. "I'd like you to meet your other buir. My riduur."

The kid made a noise of confusion, turning to look at the mound and scrutinising it in his gaze. Blowing a raspberry, Grogu looked back at his buir unimpressed. He doesn't get it; How can he have another buir when he already has one?

"My ka'rta, my lover," The mandalorian gently explained, "They are clan even if they are gone." Din grimaced as his mind kindly reminded him of that fateful day you fell. He could see Grogu work it out in his little toddler brain, trying to understand what he said, if he could understand Din at all. But, soon, his son's eyes brightened and stared at the mound with a renewed light.

Din watched as Grogu shakily stood up on his little feet and walked closer to your grave. The womp rat tilted his head left and right, flexing his tiny hands before flopping face down on the ground. He sat up in concern for his child, almost picking the kid up to see if he was alright, but before he could, the kid wiggled his whole body vigorously. It didn't occur to him what Grogu was doing, and when it did, he almost goddamn broke down.

Grogu was hugging the mound of dirt, letting his face get buried in the patches of grass and wildflowers. His claws were flapping and hitting the ground like how he would hit Din when he's happy in his arms. He wiggled around for a moment until he found a comfortable place and curled up, cooing loudly.

The sight made Din crumble down and cry. Tears were uncontrollable as they cascaded down from his eyes. Feelings of happiness and sadness filled his whole being; Happy because Grogu accepted you as his buir so quickly after knowing who you were for a minute, but sad because you would never know his child— your child.

Laying down beside the grave, Din turned his body to face Grogu who was slowly drifting off into sleep. He wondered if his ad'ika could see his memories of you, if his ad'ika could somehow feel you. As he reached out to caress Grogu's back, it was almost easy to imagine you laying there on the grass with them, smiling brightly at both him and the kid and humming softly under your breath. It was almost easy to imagine you holding Grogu in your arms as you curled into Din's.

It was almost easy to imagine.

BONUS:

You murmured stories of your adventures with Din to the sleeping child on top of you, hovering your hands over his little body comfortingly. It surprised you when the child saw you, and more so when the child understood who you were. You turned your head to look at your husband, drinking in his aged but still handsome face. Reaching out to cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand, your soul hurting when you remembered you couldn't touch him.

You settled with just watching your lover fall asleep next to your son, next to you.

It was easy to imagine.

general taglist: @stillshelbs @pedroepascal @pedrocentric (oomf and kitty im tagging u because i want u to cry with me)

#HURTED #hshjfjg #thank you and youre welcome #no cap im crying #JSKSJFJDK #this made me go :-((( #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda #mandalorian #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters

[crystaljins]

Equinox

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 7.2K

Synopsis: When it first was announced that the King of Spring was to marry the Queen of Winter, shock and outrage poured across the nation. Now, six months later, Jimin can’t help but feel maybe the Queen of Winter isn’t as evil as she seems.

King of spring!Jimin x Queen of Winter!reader

Notes: This is NOT the huge fic I’m working on LOL. It’s a drabble that turned into a BIG drabble, in dedication to my good friend, who wanted to see a fic where both main characters are royalty.

Well, here we are.

Warnings: Not really any? Pining, maybe, mentions of death and tragedy, and maybe one big kiss?

Jimin has spent an entire three months of the year in the Central Palace every year since his coronation as the King of Spring. Yet, despite his familiarity with the luxurious building, this year it feels particularly unbearable.

It isn’t the palace itself that is unbearable. After all, the Central Palace fulfils any need he could have for luxury and then some, with expansive grounds and an imposing throne room and a ball room that many have only dreamed of seeing. It almost reaches the point where he’s sick of it sometimes- the gold rimmed pillars and the intricate carvings of the stairwell railings and the other numerous unnecessary and excessively decadent detailing. 

It’s just... He much prefers his small cottage and the lovely little orchard he looks after. Sometimes children from the local village will sneak in and steal fruit but he merely smiles privately to himself when he hears the peals of laughter filter through the open windows of his home. And ever since he received a letter a week ago informing him that you had made his cottage your current abode, he has been inexplicably eager to return home.

The end of his current stay (which has actually been a six month stay this time around instead of the usual three) draws near, with Spring just on the precipice of Summer. As the reigning King of Spring, it is his duty to oversee the entire kingdom during the season where his powers are strongest, to manage the season and ensure his people prosper, and then prepare the way for the Queen of Summer to take his place for the next three months. 

Today is one of the days where his duty feels particularly tedious- he has never particularly minded Haeun and her chatty nature, but today she just seems absolutely asinine. Perhaps it is the fact that she seems uninterested in discussing anything aside from the current status of the Queen of Winter when there are so many more important things to discuss, like the crop maturation this year and how much sunlight would best benefit their ripening, or even the Equinox Ball tonight which marks the official changeover between his season and her’s. Instead, the only words that have been coming out of her mouth are with regards to you, and him, and your fairly recent wedding.

When he had been wedded to you on the Winter Solstice, many had been shocked, but none more so than the Queen of Summer. After all, for the last few hundred years, the one who bears the crown of Summer had always been betrothed to the ruler of Spring. It was only natural, as Spring prepares the way for Summer, and such a pairing enhances the powers of both parties. The kingdom had faced many centuries of prosperity thanks to what was essentially a match forged in the heavens. No doubt in Haeun’s mind, her rightful place was as his bride. And Jimin can’t blame her- for many years, he had thought the same thing. He had assumed his life would follow a similar path to those of his predecessors and that he would inevitably end up marrying Summer. And yet, here he is, married to the evasive, mysterious, and apparently cruel Queen of Winter.

It had been the Elders to make the call to arrange such a shocking match up. To have the Queen of Winter marry the King of Spring was unheard of- ridiculous, even. But you were unlike the rulers that had gone before you- your powers were endless, unstoppable, and the Winters brought by you were unforgiving and cold, and many lost their lives. Something had to be done- your powers had to be balanced since you couldn’t seem to reign them in. And since it has always been Spring to conquer the cold aftereffects of Winter, to warm the earth and coax life back into places where frost had chased it away, it fell to Jimin to take the place as your husband and to prevent disaster striking the Kingdom. A duty which he had taken up with a resigned sense of obligation. 

At least at first.

“So are the rumours all true about her?” Haeun enquires. Her question seems innocent enough. For whatever reason, you had always remained frustrating allusive to the others. Locked away in your wintry fortress (or at least, everyone assumes that’s where you must be despite the fact that no one has ever confirmed the presence of a fortress within your domain), everyone reports that you must be ruthless and cold-hearted. Perhaps even evil- after all, when you are seated upon the throne, the harshest and most brutal Winters ever seen in history terrorise the lands. 

But the question has Jimin on edge, for he has found that you do not fit nicely into the box of icy and cruel that he had thought you would. 

“I would say those rumours do not hold an ounce of truth to them.” Jimin offers mildly, pausing from where he strolls along Haeun to observe a rose bloom that has begun to wilt. Normally, the palace gardens are impeccable, and the gardens thrive during Jimin’s reign, but things always seem to get a bit messy at the transition between seasons. This particular bloom must be the victim of his and Haeun’s powers clashing as she prepared to take the throne for her season. He gently runs his fingers over the drooping petals and instantly the rose brightens, petals curling upwards as it finds new life in response to his presence. It reminds him of the first time you had borne witness to the effect of his powers and the quiet awe on your face. Not for the first time since Spring began, he feels a strange ache in his chest at the thought of you. You’re at his cottage right now, surely. What kind of expression are you wearing as you gaze upon his carefully kept orchard? 

“Really? She’s always so haughty at the Equinox ball that I was sure she thought she was better than us. Just because her powers are stronger- does she not know that people die because of her?” Haeun sniffs, clearly displeased by the way Jimin has not joined in her obvious attempts to complain about you. 

“I think she is aware of it.” Is all Jimin offers to Haeun, but internally he recalls the way you lock yourself in your quarters for the night whenever word reaches you that another innocent has died at the cold hands of Winter, and the way you spend most of your free time pouring over books and texts trying to learn how you might control your powers and soften your Winters. Haeun makes an annoyed scoff and folds her arms across her chest.

“Being aware of it isn’t enough, Jimin.” She says, and Jimin does not miss the way she uses his name when it is customary to call him by his season. “She needs to control it. We all do! It is the whole reason we take the throne. What use is she, if she cannot manage her own season? If I had were Winter, I would-“

“Haeun.” Jimin says firmly, and her eyes widen because even though she often takes liberties and calls him by his name, he has always been respectful and referred to her as Summer when it comes to the transition meetings between seasons. “It is not my place to discuss the personal life of Winter. And as her husband, I respectfully ask that you do not speak so liberally about my wife again. Unless you have anything further to discuss about the Equinox Ball tonight or about the occurrences during my season, I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

He bows deeply, demonstrating the respect her position demands, before turning on his heel. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She calls out. Jimin pauses, glancing over his shoulder. The sun peeking through the pillars of the pathway catches Haeun’s hair and highlights the softness of her features. Across the land, she is known as the sunlit beauty- warm and gentle and pretty, like the Summer season she reigns over. When he was young and still a prince and everyone had thought she was his future wife, he had even harboured a crush on her.  “That you’re stuck with her? All she brings is coldness and death. You were forced into it- I know you were! Doesn’t it hurt to be wedded to her?”

The unspoken sentiment that Haeun does not voice is “when you could have been with me”. Looking at her now, perhaps her sudden interest in you has more to do with Jimin than any real sentiment towards your actions. 

And perhaps, Haeun’s words are closer to the truth then he wants them to be. Initially, it had bothered him. Why had the Elders had forced him to marry you? Was there not an easier way to subdue your immense powers? Why could you not just... control them? Even Autumn, free-spirited and lazy as he was, kept his season well-managed. And why did it fall to Jimin to fix something that was your own fault? Haeun was a much better match for him in terms of strengthening his powers, and he absolutely loathed the season of Winter- marrying the ruler of his least favourite season is certainly not something he had ever imagined doing. 

He had spent the first three months of his marriage staying with you in the Central Palace fuelled by that sentiment and at first you had made yourself very scarce. It had suited Jimin just fine- after all, he did not bear any particular affection towards you- perhaps he even detested you a little, and if the rumours were to be believed, he’d be better off interacting with you as little as possible. 

And then things had changed, for whatever reason. He can’t be sure what prompted you to do it, but one morning you had been sitting across from him in the dining quarters, enjoying your breakfast in silence as had become customary for the two of you, when you had decided to speak. 

“Winter isn’t as bad as you think.” You had said softly, taking a long sip of your drink, before fixing Jimin with a level gaze. He had glanced up in surprise- at that stage he could probably count on one hand the number of times you had spoken in his presence.

“I never-“ Jimin had begun, ready to defend himself but you had cut him off. 

“You didn’t have to.” You had said, though your tone had not been unkind. You actually have a very sweet voice, one that contrasts with your icy reputation. “But, today I have nothing scheduled, and I wouldn’t mind showing you a few things. It must be better than wondering aimlessly around the palace.” 

Against his better judgement, perhaps, Jimin had accepted. Whatever his feelings were towards you, he was sick of wondering aimlessly. He missed his little cottage and he was beginning to grow sick of the giant, draft-y Central Palace. Any change to the lethargic rhythm of his days, even if it meant spending the day with you, was a welcome one.

And you were right. Wintertime is more than coldness and death. As the ruler of Spring, he had always thought of it as such- after all, it has always been his duty to remedy the devastation left behind by Winter. But Winter is also a time of festivities- of huddling in the warmth of a fire along side your family. Its catching snowflakes on your tongue and children laughing as they skate over frozen lakes and form little ice sculptures from snow. He hadn’t known it until he spent those three months with you. And after that first day where you had taken him out to a frozen lake close to the palace and shown him how to ice skate, spending time with you had become more of a regular occurrence. 

Which brings him to today.

“I’m not stuck with her.” Is what Jimin finally says to Haeun, who deflates, just slightly. He does not explain any further- he’s not sure he can. He certainly doesn’t feel the burden of obligation that had weighted his every step when he first married you. He perhaps even misses you, after three months of separation. It’s all a little scary and confusing but all he knows for sure is that being married to you is no longer the offensive chore he initially viewed it as. 

This time when Jimin turns away, she does not stop him. He is relieved- he is sick of hearing Haeun speak so disrespectfully about you. He’s sick of the way servants whisper in the halls when you walk past. He’s sick of the way travellers tell stories of evil Winter, who takes lives for fun and revels in the cruelty of her blizzards. He doesn’t know why, given that it has only been six months since he married you, and three whole months since he even last saw you in person, but he feels a strange protectiveness towards you. Just the thought of those whispers when he knows of you, curled up beneath the security of a warm blanket on the hearth, with the fire’s glow highlighting your features, still studying away even after a full days’ worth of royal duties so that you can learn to control your powers makes his heart ache. He wishes, just once, that he had been brave enough to curl up beside you and to listen to the steady sound of your breathing, the rhythmic turn of a page, the crackle of the fire’s warmth. Or brave enough to hush the terrible whispers. Anything to wipe that expression you get on your face when you know people are thinking unpleasant things about you. That guarded, reserved expression that he knows is concealing a broken heart.

“My Lord!” Jimin hears a voice call, and he almost curses. He wants nothing more than to return to his quarters and begin packing up. It has now been six months since he has been in his actual home, and when he received that letter from you a week ago informing him that you had taken up residence in his home, he had only been more eager to return. He wants to know what his home looks like with you in it. He wants to know what you look like in the brightness of Summer, away from the grief and cold of Winter. He wants to see you again to the point it is almost alarming. “My Lord!” The voice calls again, and one of the servants skids to a stop before Jimin. It is Namjoon. Jimin recalls his name because Namjoon is one of the few servants you are rather fond of. 

“Hello, Namjoon.” Jimin greets warmly, and Namjoon looks surprised and delighted at the sound of his name. “How can I be of service?”

Namjoon is slightly out of breath, and he reaches for the pocket of his trousers, fishing around until he produce a single crumpled piece of paper. 

“It is a letter from Winter.” Namjoon says. “She asked me to relay to you that she will not be attending the Equinox Ball and that she shall see you tomorrow at the your domain.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and he quickly snatches the paper from Namjoon’s hand. He does not mean to be quite so aggressive with his movements, but he is shaken at the way you have abruptly cancelled. Without even realising it, he had hyped himself up at the thought of seeing you again after a long three months. 

It’s a lengthy apology, neatly written and well-articulated. It basically gives an entire, eloquent list of flimsy excuses as to why you should not attend. 

But Jimin sees straight through it. Perhaps in the past, he would have let it be. Let you sit at home and then awkwardly greet you in his cottage the next morning. But now that he knows the way your expression shutters when people mutter rude things under their breath about you, now that he knows the way you lie awake at night, haunted by grief and guilt, he knows that you are running away. After all, the whispers had only gotten worse after your marriage- the Evil Queen of Winter shackling the charming and kind King of Spring is certainly quite the tale to set tongues wagging. 

And while Jimin hates the thought of you spending an evening in discomfort when there are about a thousand better ways for you to spend your time, he hates the thought of people thinking of his marriage to you as a tragic event even more. He wants to stroll into the ballroom with your hand in his, to proudly show off that he is not some tragic heroine trapped in a loveless marriage to an evil overlord. He wants people to see you, your kindness and your sweetness. He wants people to realise that Winter can be even warmer than Summer sometimes, in the right circumstances. 

“Is she currently in my domain?” Jimin asks softly, but he knows from the floral, woodsy scent of the paper that it was written in his home. Namjoon hesitates before offering an awkward nod. 

“I believe so.” He admits. “The messenger who brought the letter was one of the keepers of your orchard.” 

Jimin nods, tonguing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek. A well-cared for horse would allow him to reach his home within a couple of hours. He keeps his own horses at the cottage who would be able to take the two of you back in time for nightfall. He is to give a speech at the Ball and that will be his last official duty until next year. And for whatever reason, he does not want to give the speech if you are not there, amongst the crowd. It’s still possible if he leaves now.

“Ready a horse for me, Namjoon,” Jimin finally says, shoving the letter into the pocket of his trousers. He’ll have to change into gear more appropriate for a long ride. 

“But, my liege, the ball-“ Namjoon protests. 

“I’ll be there.” Jimin reassures him, though his expression is grim. “And so will my wife.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice.

++

Jimin has really, truly missed his home. Nothing quite compares to it. When they had first identified him as heir to the throne of Spring, the Elders had initially planned for him to stay in the castle inhabited by his predecessors. After all, since he did in theory bear their spirit, the castle should technically be to his tastes. 

But he guess he differs to his previous incarnations, since he only lasted a few weeks before he moved into the cottage his parents owned close to the castle. It’s not unusual for tastes to change like that with different incarnations of Spring- though he feels that he can recall their previous lifetimes if he thinks very hard about it, they are different people and incarnations. The only traits he shares with those who had gone before is his power over the season of Spring.

Perhaps that is why, despite the fact that previous Springs have deeply loved Summer, he cannot stop thinking about Winter. Especially as the edge of the orchard draws into view. 

Oddly, you aren’t in the cottage when he enters. There’s evidence that you’ve been staying there- some of your books are scattered over his work desk and the gardening implements around the back of the cottage are shifted around as if someone has been sorting through them. But it does not take long to locate you deep in the orchard, crouched beneath the orange tree. You don’t seem to have registered his presence yet given that you continue to mutter to yourself as you stab aggressively at the soil with a tiny hand shovel he recognises from the implements he keeps around the back of his cottage.  

He’s about to confront you, but the sight of you, crouched down and wearing oversized trousers and an ugly, soil covered shirt he recognises from the very back of his wardrobe, has him completely frozen. It’s hard to explain the emotion- a powerful, roaring wave crashing down on the peaceful shorelines of his heart. 

“(Y/N),” your name comes in a exhale of his breath, one that’s not entirely voluntary. It’s his mistake though, because you were absolutely not anticipating his presence, and you leap about a metre in the air in your shock. 

Stumbling back a few steps in a sort of awkward crab walk, revealing your handy work. A small hole you had been digging and a handful of withered, lifeless daffodils. 

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, and your accidental use of his name when you had previously only referred to him as Spring has his heart racing in his chest for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “T-this isn’t what it looks like!” You cry. “I was just...”

It takes a moment, but Jimin manages to shake himself out of the trance long enough to realise that the withered and lifeless daffodils just so happen to be his favourite flowers from

his front garden. Immediately, whatever mysterious emotion that had overcome him prior is replaced by abject horror. 

“My daffodils!” He cries, stricken with grief. And they had been so young, as well! Such lovely, bright blooms, withered and dried up! Abruptly, you scramble to your feet and dust the soil from your hands and knees, scrambling towards him. 

“I was just trying to water them!” You cry, hands outstretched in an attempt to calm him in his distress. “I don’t have any flowers in my domain since the ground is not very fertile and I was just trying to tend to them!”

“They’re dead!” Jimin points out. “How much did you water them?”

You pause, shrinking under his gaze, before holding up ten fingers. 

“Ten?” Jimin asks, and you nod. “Ten what?” 

You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch. He steps closer in an attempt to decipher your sheepish mumblings. 

“What?” Jimin asks, and you sigh before fixing him with a steady glare. 

“Ten buckets!” You cry. “I asked your gardener and she told me that these are fickle plants that require constant moisture!”

“So you watered them with ten buckets of water? You drowned my daffodils!” He cries. You deflate, just slightly, glancing forlornly at the fallen remains of his beloved babies. He’d so carefully tended to them as well! They were just reaching the point where he could lift the buds and replant them. There’s a nice sunny spot at the back of the orchard that they would have thrived in, and now... and now... 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You finally offer, stepping forward to comfortingly pat at his shoulder. “They lived a good life, under your care,” you continue. “And once you finish off your duties at the Equinox Ball tonight I’m sure you can...” You trail away slowly, and the hand stroking his shoulder slows its pats. And then you gasp in horror when you register that Jimin is here, in his orchard, grieving over some dead daffodils instead of finalising preparations for the Equinox Ball. “Jimin!” You cry. “The Ball! How can you be here? You’re supposed to be preparing for the Ball.”

“Well,” Jimin snaps, perhaps a bit more grumpy than the situation really warranted, but you also killed his lovely daffodils. “I am supposed to be there, but my lovely wife decided she’d much rather kill my daffodils and hide the evidence instead of attend the Ball as is her duty!”

You flush, a shade that he can’t help notice is a rather endearing shade despite everything. Dimly, he recalls that overwhelming feeling he’d experienced when he first saw you earlier, but he pushes it down. There are more pressing matters to attend to- his daffodils can be given a proper burial later.

“Yes, well, as you read in my letter, I thought it would be far better for me to-“ you begin, clearing your throat awkwardly as you often do before giving a formal address. It only irks him further that you’re placating him as if he’s a random parliament member who needs coddling or a foreign emissary you have to charm. He’s your husband and he’s sick of people- you included- pretending otherwise. 

“You’re running away.” He offers quietly, and your eyes widen. Perhaps you had been expecting him to dance around the bushes. After all, three months ago during Winter, though you had grown undeniably closer, there had always been the feeling of treading on eggshells around each other. Like neither of you really knew how to react together. But a lot has changed, in three months. Jimin has had three months to overthink and to pretend he doesn’t know the name for the feelings of longing he can’t shake off and to deny that he misses you and now that you’re finally here in front of him, he does not want to waste another second. 

That crashing, roaring wave in his heart will not quieten, and finally he gives it a platform to pour out. 

“You’re scared. I get that. You don’t know what you’re feeling and everyone and their mother seems to have an opinion on our marriage and maybe you think it will be easier if you stay out of the public eye,” Jimin tells you urgently. He steps forward as if he is approaching a startled deer. “But it won’t be. They won’t ever stop. So why let them dictate what makes you happy?” 

You just stare at him, speechless, and he takes your silence as permission to step a little closer. Every movement he makes is slow and steady- you have to option to pull away at any moment. He stretches out a hand, wraps his fingers around yours and then raises your hand slowly towards his heart, letting you rest your palm flat against the thrumming rhythm. 

“I missed you.” They aren’t the words he intended to say. He’s not even entirely sure what words he had planned to convince you to come with him. But those words are the ones that burst forth. He can’t hold back anymore. He feels like he’s spent three whole months trying to prevent a volcano from erupting, and he’s exhausted. He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t keep up the facade that he’s ok, when you took his heart with you when you agreed to move out of the Central Palace at the request of the Elders three months ago. “I want you to be at the Ball with me. If we leave now, we can make it. Please- do this with me.” He begs. 

He’s met with silence. The longer it stretches out, the more dread slowly filters into his heart. It takes him a long few moments, but when he finally gains the courage to gaze upon your expression, his heart drops into his feet. 

Tears pour over your cheeks. You’re normally so put-together, but with your guard down in his absence, dirt smidges your cheeks and the sun gilds your skin. You’re so heart achingly beautiful. It’s like the sensation of stone giving way, the way he feels a crevice form in his heart at the sight.

“Jimin,” you finally say, and your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t...”

You trail away, but it’s enough. He feels a bit like you’ve slapped him. He’d thought... he’d thought it had been the both of you struggling in your separation, but it seems it was only him. He’s a fool- how could be have ever thought he was strong enough to thaw the frozen heart of Winter? 

“Right.” He says, humiliated by the way his voice cracks. “Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Duty calls.”

He turns on his heel so that you can’t see the way tears sting at the back of his eyes. 

You don’t stop him as he leaves. 

++

The Queen of Winter is a dignified woman. Tucked far away in her fortress, the common folk speculate that she does not have a heart. 

For a long time, you’d thought maybe it was true, but this constant ache in your chest is proving otherwise. 

“Are you just going to watch him go?” Yoongi, your personal guard, asks lazily. He is reclined in one of the cosy arm chairs in the centre of Jimin’s cottage, munching away at one of the apples he stole from the tree at the front of the cottage. You spare him a glance over your shoulder, before returning your gaze to the cantering horse that moves further and further away with each passing moment. 

“What else can I do?” You finally ask, tearing your gaze from the window and settling into the chair opposite Yoongi. Unlike him, you sit neatly, with your knees pressed together and your ankles tucked delicately to the side. Yoongi shrugs, crunching through another mouthful of apple. 

“Well you could have said no one was home when Summer knocked on your door last week like I suggested. But no. You had to invite her in and make her tea and let her get under your skin and now here we are, missing the feast of the year so that you can sulk.” He grumbles, crunching a bit more aggressively. Normally, Yoongi is a placid, lethargic sort of guy, but he’s been grumpy ever since Haeun showed up unannounced last week. Well, actually, he’s been like this ever since you received the order from the Elders to vacate the Central Palace in case you disturbed the prosperity of the oncoming Spring. After all, their plan had worked- having Jimin stay with you in the Central Palace had been enough to curb your Winter, but they didn’t want to offset his powers of Spring. 

“Yoongi,” you begin tiredly, ready to feed him the same ridiculous lines about your duty and your out of control powers that you’re sick of saying, but he cute you off. 

“No.” He snaps, the most forceful he’s ever been with you in perhaps his entire life. “You listen to me.” 

You’re too surprised by his aggression to retort, which gives him the opportunity to launch off in a furious tirade. 

“You finally had a good thing going for you. Finally someone who didn’t blame you for your Winters, someone who was kind and made you smile for the first time in literal years, and now you want me to sit here and accept that a cantankerous, overheated she-witch has the power to take that way with a couple of weak and not very witty jibes?” He demands. “What happened to the Queen of Winter? The woman who ate hearts for breakfast and drank the blood of her victims as wine?”

“She never existed.” You frown. “I faint when i accidentally kill a mosquito-“

“But you let those rumours circulate. You never tried to correct them because you never gave a damn about the small fry, so why are you letting some over-baked half-wit get to you?” He demands, pointing an accusing, half-eaten apple in your direction. 

You are silent as you recall the encounter the previous week. You had just finished penning a letter to Jimin to inform him you were looking forward to meeting with him when he returned to his cottage, when there had been an unexpected banging on the door. 

Haeun and you have never had a good relationship. Instinctively, Summer and Winter are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but she’d also always loathed the way your powers ran wild. After your cold, unforgiving Winters, she always had to burn hotter, and more intensely during the Summer to compensate, and it probably took its toll on her. And to add insult to injury, you had married the love of her life at the request of the Elders. The knowledge that you had taken something so important from her had been why you couldn’t just slam the door in her face even though Yoongi had gestured for you to do so just out of her view. 

He’s usually right though, since he’s quite gifted at reading people, and he was right that you should have kicked her out then and there.  Haeun had nothing but poison to spill forth from her lips.

Logically, you know the things she was saying were said with the intent to hurt you. Jimin had proved his kindness and warmth again and again during the three months you had lived together and it had even started to reach the point where it felt like he was your real husband. Not just an assigned keeper with the legal right to receive your belongings if you one day died. It felt like he actually cared- the way he sat with you on long, cold nights, the secret smiles he offered over breakfast, the way he left tea outside your bedroom door when he knew you had been up late studying. 

Jimin had done the impossible, warming the cold, frozen tundra your heart had lived in, and what you long for in return is to be the person who brings warmth to his Winters. Who holds him in the cold. Who rejoices with him in the bright months of Summer. You’d spent the whole of Spring in a joyful, happy cloud, remembering the way your Winter had been gentle and soft for the first time in your whole life. 

And then you’d heard what Haeun had to say. 

“I’m just concerned.” She had told you, dress in a dainty Summer dress that allowed the warm Spring sun to warm her shoulders. She always wears loud, cheerful colours and on that day she had worn a bright yellow to match the daffodils you had desperately been trying to keep alive. “I’m only saying this because I know you care about him too, and I would want to know this if I were in your shoes.”

Yoongi had been watching the whole exchange with an expression on his face like he’d swallowed a sour lemon and he had rolled his eyes when she’d said that. And yet, you hadn’t been able to approach her words with the same disdain. 

“You know how beloved Spring is. For him to be wedded to you is causing a lot of distress within the kingdom! And the things people are saying about him- that he’s bewitched by your enchantments, that he’s weak-willed and unworthy to lead.” She gazes at you with a glare and the hardest part of all this is that she’s telling the truth. She really came here out of a sense of duty to Jimin because she wants you to stop interfering with his life. “Why couldn’t you have just learned to use your powers instead of turning his life upside down like this?”

And hadn’t that been the final nail in the coffin. Even now, a week later, you are still reeling from her words. It had been with a heavy heart you had decided not to make an appearance at the Ball. 

But you hadn’t expected this to happen- for it to hurt just as much to refuse Jimin’s request to go with him. Why does it hurt both way? Why is it that if you have him, you ruin his life, but if you reject him, he looks at you like that? Like you’ve betrayed him? Like you’ve set fire to his orchard before his very eyes?

“Because I love him.” You admit to Yoongi. He chokes for a moment, surprised by your admission, before staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You what?” He demands, and you offer him a weak smile. 

“I love him, Yoongi.” You say again, and Yoongi’s gaze softens because he’s known you since you were a child in the Central Palace for the first time and he’s never seen such warmth in your eyes. You aren’t the Queen of Winter for nothing. “I love him so much I don’t know what to do and I just feel like no matter what choice I make it hurts.”

You hate the way your voice chokes, and Yoongi lifts from his chair, walking over to you to rest a warm hand over your own. 

“So if your choices are being hurt and miserable and being hurt and happy, why not choose the path that has at least a little bit of good in it?” Yoongi asks you gently. You stare at him, surprised, and he offers you a grin. “There’s a dress in your wardrobe with your name on it and if we leave now we should make it in time for Spring’s Official Address.” He tells you, straightening and stretching out with a yawn. “Better go get my riding boots.” He sighs. 

For a moment, you are frozen at Yoongi’s words, but then slowly a grin splits your face. 

He’s right. Both choices hurt- so why not choose the one where you get to be with Jimin? 

You gaze out the window at where the Sun is just beginning to sink into late afternoon. 

You have a Ball to get to. 

++

Jimin isn’t sure how he’s made it this far into the night. He feels like he’s just hollowly going through the motions and it’s a wonder that no one has picked up that he feels like he’s walking around with a stomach full of glass shards. If he’d known a broken heart hurt this much, he’d have long ago cast aside his heart to save himself the pain. 

“Are you excited?” Haeun questions cheerfully. She wears a long, golden dress that shimmers and catches the lights of the chandelier overhead as she moves. Her hair is carefully braided over her left shoulder, leaving her collar bones and delicate throat exposed. Yet the sight of the daffodil flower crown woven into her hair atop her head just seems to mock him. 

“I suppose.” He answers, with an empty smile. Haeun beams in response. She’s in an awfully good mood today and it only seems to worsen his own mood. “I’m ready for a nine month break from my duty.”

She offers him a bright laugh, and the two of them are interrupted by a firm clap against Jimin’s shoulder. He winces and turns to find Taehyung beaming at him. 

“Hello, brother!” He says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you since the start of Spring! How is your lovely wife? I was just thinking I should pop over to visit her and then I learned that she wasn’t in her domain. Imagine my surprise when I head that she’s been staying in the Spring domain for the past three months. I trust the marriage is going well?” He questions, with a suggestive waggle of his strong brows. 

Jimin is unable to stop his expression from falling. All night, he’s managed to at least keep up a facade that he’s ok, but those words hit just a little bit too hard. He just and quickly slips the false smile back onto his face, but the King of Autumn has always been quick-witted, and he does not miss the devastation on Jimin’s face. 

“Jimin?” He asks slowly. Haeun looks a little confused at the slow, careful tone of Taehyung’s voice and at the use of Jimin’s name. “Is everything alright?”

Jimin offers him another hollow smile but he is saved the effort of lying when his advisor comes rushing over. 

“My Lord!” Seokjin cries. “It is time for your address! Please hurry to the stage.” He clicks his tongue a few times, corralling Jimin towards the stage. 

He supposes it is now or never. 

The tradition for the handover of Spring to Summer is fairly straight forward- at the Ball, Jimin is to deliver an address, celebrating the prosperity of Spring and wishing Summer well for her season. It’s usually one of his favourite duties- to gaze upon the faces of his subjects, to know that his words kickstart a weeklong festival where people will dance in the streets and sing with joy at the arrival of their long awaited Summer. But today, he feels as if he is made of wood as he takes the stage. 

“I thank you all for coming,” he begins. A simple spell cast upon the stage allows his voice to be amplified so that everyone can hear him. “As you all know, this particular Spring has been a big one for me. I have spent not three, but six whole months in the Central Palace, overseeing the seasons.” He offers a fake cheeky smile. “Safe to say I’m a little homesick.” That earns him a little chuckle for he is infamous for his simple and modest home. “But it has been my most triumphant Spring yet, because I...” 

No one is more surprised than him at the way his words seem to fail him. 

“Because I...” he tries again, but the words are choked off and the audience starts to murmur in confusion. 

He can’t do it- he can’t fake happiness and merriment. Not when you aren’t even here. Not when you had been the source of his happiness for the last six months. 

“Because...”

And then the doors to the ballroom swing open and he gazes upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

You wear a floor length gown. As is custom, your dress matches your season, shimmering blue with diamonds cast upon it that catch the light and dance like floating snowflakes. You hair falls around your face, flushed with exertion and your eyes are bright, even from across the room. 

An eerie hush falls upon the room. No one has ever seen Winter so dishevelled; and yet she is by no means ugly or unappealing. No, in fact, for years after people will sing songs about your beauty this night- how your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky and how your smile holds a joy no one had ever thought you capable of. 

Slowly, you step towards him. The crowd parts around you, and yet it is like you are the only person in the room. Even if he had wanted to speak, he would have been incoherent. The roaring feeling in his heart is now a tsunami- he’s swept away. He’s in love beyond what he ever thought was capable. He loves you- he loves you!!

“Jimin,” you say, smiling sweetly when you finally stop in front of him. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

And then you kiss him, bold and happy, in front of the entire ballroom and Jimin feels his heart may explode. 

++

There is, of course, much to discuss after your arrival to the Ball. Haeun’s words- your fears and insecurities- Jimin’s own feelings. There is so much to discuss and yet that night, Jimin is only capable of one thing. After his address finishes, he holds you in his arms as the two of you sway in a gentle waltz. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and he feels you smile into the crook of his neck. 

There is so much to say, and so much to do, but the two of you have your whole lives together to discuss it.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts fluff #jimin fluff #park jimin scenarios #writing

[jinpanman]

Stinkin Adeerable

summary: What’s a skunk to do when the bright and shiny and annoying deer shifter says he’s going to move into your secret hiding place? Why, move in right along with him.

pairing: hoseok x reader

word count: 5.9k

genre: pg13, fluff

extra info: deer!hobi. skunk!reader. side jikook. mention of cum and the smell of sex. i don’t know what the relationship is between hobi and oc and honestly, neither do they lmao. they go from something to another something, so not exactly a friends-to-lovers fic lol.

a/n: this plot is honestly really stupid, like...the “conflict” is literally so stupid. don’t expect big brains reading this. but i love them so b nice plz. also this is 100% a mash up of two wips i will probably never write so i’m happy i get my deer hobs and skunk oc :”) very quickly edited and not beta read so forgive me for any lesser-than writing

[ PART OF THE SPRING SPROUTS COLLAB ]

Stop and smell the roses. It’s a saying you’ve come to hate. Mostly because you hate being told what to do. Also because you hate roses. Which is a funny thing coming from a skunk shifter, but you can’t help what you dislike. Much like how you can’t help how much you loathe the pesky deer shifter who’s prancing around in your secret meadow.

Whoever said deer are soft, meek, and huggable creatures were liars. They obviously hadn’t met him. Jung Hoseok, the bane of your existence. The man who exists solely to suck the life out of you. You definitely do not like his stupid laugh. You also definitely do not like his stupid hair that sticks up in all directions. And you especially don’t like how he always manages to find you whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

Your heart absolutely doesn’t do little flips when he wiggle his brows and flash his stupid heart shaped smile at you. Rather than deal with the feelings that you definitely do not have, you always respond with a flick of your middle finger.

The first time you met him, you were laying in this very meadow amongst the flowers when you heard a pattering of feet running towards you. Before you knew it, someone tripped right over you, causing all the air to expel out of you. The stupid fawn had not even bothered to apologize to you. He simply got up, dusted his feet, stuck his tongue at you, and continued to run towards the little stream in your meadow.

“Excuse me!” You shouted after him. “You need to say sorry!”

The boy didn’t even bother to turn around before retorting, “Why are you laying on the ground in the first place? It’s your fault. I don’t need to.”

Ever since then, the two of you have fought over this hideaway. Much to your chagrin, it very quickly went from a “Y/N Sanctuary” to a “Y/N and Hoseok Sanctuary.” You fought tooth and nail. Literally. Both of you have permanent battle scars from one particularly and very accidentally bad brawl in the form of a scar on the left side of your neck and one under his lower brow. 

After that day, the two of you declared a truce and came to a compromise. You’d switch off every other day on who gets to stay in the secret meadow. Today was your day among the flowers and seeing him this early unannounced sours your mood. At least that’s what you tell yourself your racing heart means anyway.

A ray of sunlight seems to follow Hoseok around like his own personal paparazzi as he wanders through the meadow nearby the gurgling creek. Even the tree you’re leaning against seems to be swaying in his direction, as if it can’t help but be drawn to him. 

Your tail lashes through the air furiously, and you watch with narrowed eyes as he talks with a little red bird perched atop his left antler. In human form, the antlers look more like little sticks, but they still stand just as beautifully and proudly as they would in their true form. It’s infuriating how he seems to glow amongst the field of flowers. You eye a small patch of mud protected under the dense shade of the tree you’re under. If you throw some dirt at him, would the halo surrounding his figure fade away? 

Thwack!

It fills you with deep satisfaction seeing his formerly pristine face now smeared with dirt. When he bellows your name, your heart races with glee and you cackle from behind the tree. Serves him right for interrupting what you were hoping to be a peaceful morning.

“You’re in for it now, flower,” declares a gruff voice behind you. 

In the midst of your victory march, you don’t notice a sturdy pair of arms jut out from underneath your arms until suddenly you’re lifted off the ground. With a shriek you flail in the air, unable to free yourself from his iron grip. Hoseok moves much too quickly for you to react and before you know it, the cold shock of the creek water seeps through your clothes deep into your bones. You quickly find your footing and right yourself in the knee-deep water. Your tail wraps around your lower leg in a futile attempt to warm yourself. 

It was way too early for this.

“Hoseok!” You shriek and rip away from him. He’s hunched over, shoulders shaking from laughter. On any good day, you might dip your feet in the water, but you’ve never been a big fan of water. He knows this, of course. He knows and still he threw you in the water.

“Serves you right! You threw mud at me, you absolute menace.”

He cups his hands in the stream and scrubs his face clean. Almost, anyway. A patch of dirt sticks to the corner of his nose. You don’t care though. Let him go about his day like that. It’s what he deserves. With an undignified huff, you push him with enough force for him to topple into the stream while you clamber back onto the grass. You hear some splashing and then the squelching of wet clothes trudging behind you.

“You missed a spot, by the way. Looks like you got a mole on your nose.”

“What? Where?” He rubs on the wrong side of his nose, but you’re not gonna tell him that. “Is it gone?”

“Beats me.”

“Don’t play smart with me!”

He grabs you by the waist and tumbles onto the grass with you in tow. He mumbles something about how you’re so infuriating and flips himself so he’s bent over you. Well, fuck. This man’s getting brave today, huh?

“Tell me where it’s still dirty.”

“Your whole face is dirty, man. I can’t help you with that.” It’s a lie, though. Water droplets still cling to his skin and wet hair. The sun seems to shine even more on this man and when he smirks it nearly blinds you.

“Fuck off.”

“Maybe if you get off me, I will.”

“Hm, I could...but why do I get the feeling that you like being under me?”

“Bi,” you warn him with a name you reserve for particularly trying circumstances. This being one of them. Sometimes it slips out in normal conversation, but you don’t talk about that. He hated the nickname, of course. Insisted that you called him “Hobi,” but you wouldn’t relent. 

In retaliation, he gave you the name dear old Bambi had given his skunk friend. It backfired on you, you’ll admit, but the stubbornness in you refused to back down. Which brings you to the present where you’re both just starting to dip your feet into adulthood. Where cooties have morphed into feelings-that-you-refuse-to-understand.

“Right, sorry. My pretty flower doesn’t like being under anyone.” He coos, patting your cheek. “Look. If you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna rub my face all over you until the dirt is gone.”

He doesn’t give you time to offer a smart retort. He lunges forward and does just that. You let out a surprised squeal when he burrows his face against your neck. His upper body leans into you, and his clothes squelch against your own wet clothes. Oh, dear goddess. If he pressed himself any closer to you, you fear you might combust on the spot despite being wet from head to toe. 

You sincerely hope he isn’t able to feel how fast your heart is thudding against your ribcage. What is up with him today? Your breathing comes to a halt when his lips brush up against the scar on your neck. He noses his way along the side of your face until it stops just behind your ear.

“You can breathe now, flower.”

You can feel the way his lips spread into a shit-eating grin against your skin. You take in a sharp breath and smack his arm.

“I’ve been breathing, smart ass.”

“Say you’re sorry for throwing mud at me.”

“No.”

He squints his eyes at you in silent reprimand. 

“You’re not even supposed to be here today,” you say instead. “Today isn’t your day in the meadow. Why are you here?” 

He sighs and pushes himself off you and sits himself upright beside you. The warmth leaves with him and you secretly wish he would come back to lay on top of you.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, but I really need your help for something and this was the first place I thought of.”

You sniff in disdain. “And what was such an emergency that you had to come see me in my sanctuary this early in the day?”

“My parents are kicking me out of the house.”

“And this is my problem because….?”

“Because it involves our meadow.”

Well hold on a second now. This you weren’t anticipating.

“What about my meadow?”

He hesitates.

“Spit it out!”

“I’m moving here.”

You snort and slap your knee. “Good one, Hoseok. Okay, you can leave now.”

“I’m serious! They really are kicking me out and I really do wanna make my new home here.”

The way he sits so rigidly beside you, ears turned straight up, with a stoic expression on his face doesn’t sit well with you. Damn, he really is serious, but also—

“What the fuck? No.”

The expression on his face after you say that is laughable. You know what was really laughable, though? The fact that he thought you would make this easy for him.

“What? You think I want to move here? I mean… yeah, okay. I would like to move here one day with y—but anyway, I got kicked out! Said I’ve been a bachelor for too long and they want their space back or whatever! And I got nowhere else to go so, you know… I figured I’d make a home here.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me first before making this decision?!”

“Aren’t I talking to you now?”

“Hoseok!”

“Okay, look! I know it looks bad, okay? I swear I’m not trying to monopolize this place. I know what it means to you, but this meadow is important to me too! I’m going to build a tiny house just over there.” He gestures to a random spot in the east where the creek is relatively shallow and the trees are dense. “It’s so hidden away it’d be like I’m not even here.”

“But I would know you’re here.”

You seal your lips shut and cross your arms. How much longer until he gets on his knees and begs you?

“Flower, please? Please, you know I would let you do the same if you were put in this situation.”

He’s right. He’s always right. If you were the one being kicked out he would have let you stay in this meadow with no hesitance. That’s just how he is, however infuriating it is.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it would bother you this much, but since it does I can crash at Kook’s place, I guess.”

Your eyes widen in alarm. He absolutely cannot crash at Kook’s place. That stag’s tiny home reeks of deer and fox cum. You would know. You had the unfortunate experience of walking in unannounced once and witnessing a most horrendous sight. You’re not so evil that you’d let him suffer through that. 

Jimin would also absolutely kill you if he found out you knowingly let Hoseok go there. Goodbye to Jimin’s dick appointments and goodbye to your peace and quiet. With your tail tucked between your legs, you sigh and take his hand in both of yours. Your mind is running much too frantically for you to realize what you’ve just done.

“You can live here,” you say forlornly, head hung low. “...But that means I’m moving in too.”

“Wait… what?”

“This is my home too. I deserve half the rights of this place,” you tack on quickly before he can question you.

“You...want to live...with me?”

If you had a drink you would have spit it out after hearing those words. You do not, unfortunately, have a drink present, so instead your head shoots up so you can gawk at him. Your once racing mind is now frozen and empty save for one thought: living with Hoseok. 

“I-I mean. Yes. Wait. No!” The look of confusion on his face is quickly wiped with a knowing grin and he places his free hand on top of yours as you ramble on. “No, um. I meant. You should. Er, I’m. No! I meant that I’m moving here too...in my own home. Yeah. You live in your house. I’ll live in mine.”

“You sure you don’t wanna live with me? My house would be big enough for the both of us, I’m sure.”

Only now do you realize you’ve been holding his hand this entire time. Well, damn. Your hands look real good between his. You surprisingly don’t hate the idea as much as you thought you would. The meadow is large enough that you can live in separate tiny homes with enough space to still have your privacy. You suppose if you had to do this with someone, you wouldn’t mind doing it with him. You’re definitely not going to think about why you don’t mind though.

Your once quiet haven is now filled with the scuffling of feet and boisterous laughter as the two of you move both your belongings into your new homes. You enlisted the help of various bird shifters who hollowed out two relatively large trees for you. With some nice words of encouragement that definitely was not in the form of blackmail, you got Jimin to bring a few of his fox buddies to dig their way into the untouched dirt of your meadow and create your new makeshift home. 

Hoseok was able to get help from his family and Jungkook to build a sizable wooden cabin in the same spot he told you he was going to take. It’s been a few weeks now and finally the both of you are able to move in. Hopefully you’ll be fully moved in before the end of spring. You’d hate to work under the sweltering heat of summer.

But oh god, how will you live the rest of your days living with the bane of your existence? What if you step outside one day and catch him bathing in the creek? Or sunbathing on that boulder right over there? Oh god, what if he brings a doe home one day. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Jimin’s head pops out from under the hollowed tree. “Where do you want me to put your box of panties?”

“Oh my god, Jimin!” Your previous worries now forgotten, you rush over to a very-not-sorry Jimin. “Stop going through my things! You already did your job so you can leave. Now!”

He cackles as you try and fail at pushing him out of the tree cavity. “Heck no! I am not leaving. I still can’t believe you put yourself in this situation.”

You grunt and he finally relents, stepping into the open. 

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

You haven’t actually. Despite seeing each other practically every day for the past month, you haven’t had time to properly talk at all since that day, and you realize this is probably the longest you’ve gone without bickering. 

You immediately spot him, the root of all your thoughts this past hour—or more like your whole life, but no one needs to know that. He and his buddy Namjoon, a bear shifter, are carrying what looks like wooden beams into his cottage. It looks really cozy. You wonder if you’ll be allowed to come in and see his home. Hoseok comes back out the door and waves at you, a smile ever present on his face.

“You’re sweet on him. Just admit it.”

“It’s like you want me to announce to the world that you’re screwing the biggest stag in our forest.”

Jimin scowls and grabs you by the neck, pulling you in a headlock. You’d snicker if not for his hard grip around your neck. “That’s not funny, cousin,” he gripes through his teeth. “Be careful what you say in public.”

“I’m not your fucking cousin, you mangy dog! Let me go or I’m gonna drop a stink bomb on you!”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not in front of your secret lover.”

“Park Jimin!”

You’re too busy struggling to be freed from Jimin’s stinky pits to notice another figure walking towards the two of you. An unfamiliar velvety voice calls out to you.

“Y/N! Jimin! I got bad news.” Out of the corner of your eye, you make out one of Jimin’s actual cousins, a fellow fox shifter you know as Taehyung, standing beside you. “I was trying to move your bed in but the walls caved. I think we’re gonna have to spend some extra time reinforcing all the walls before it’s safe for you to live in. You’re gonna need to figure out where to stay while we work on it.”

You deflate and will yourself to choke against Jimin’s arm. Of fucking course nothing ever works out in your favor. Jimin snickers and swiftly removes his hand causing you to fall with a dull thud.

“Fuck you,” you grunt as you pick yourself off the ground.

“Gross. That’s Jungkook’s job not yours. You should be telling Hoseok that. That’s his job.”

Just as you’re about to lunge at him, a strong pair of arms wraps around you. Immediately you’re shrouded in a scent that you know almost as well as your own.

“What’s my job?” Hoseok pipes behind you.

“Making sure that our sweet skunky gets lai—”

“Making sure that I have a room to sleep in while my house is being worked on!” You talk over Jimin who has the ugliest smirk plastered on his face. If Hoseok wasn’t currently restraining you, that darned fox would be weeping right now.

“Oh, damn!” Hoseok turns to you with a frown. “What’s wrong with your den?”

You shrug and point to Taehyung who you’d all but forgotten was here. With a heavy sigh at finally being acknowledged, he slouches over against a tree. The three of you listen as Taehyung explains in depth about what needs to be done and how long it’ll take.

“Alright well, now that it’s settled that you’ll be rooming with Hoseok, Taehyung, why don’t you and I go and fetch her things while they catch up, hm?” Before you can even get a word in, Jimin takes his friend by the hand and they run past you towards the tree hollow. Fuck.

You glance back at Hoseok who looks every bit as cheery as he did a minute ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was even perkier than before. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask you. You totally don’t have to, you know, let me stay with you. I can just go back and stay with my parents or something!”

“No, no. I don’t mind at all. You’re always welcome in my home.”

“But… what if I stink up your place? Like, I don’t know if you know this but, I’m kinda stinky. I mean, in the open it’s not so bad but in closed quarters? Dude. It’s pretty bad.”

“I don’t think you’re stinky.”

“Ha! Ha, good one, dude. That’s funny.”

“I don’t think you’re stinky,” he repeats.

You snort and nod along sarcastically. You really weren’t trying to sound so negative. It’s a known fact that skunkfolk have a distinctive smell to them. Some people were nicer about it than others. Your kind found a solution to the smell long ago, but the salve used to remedy the smell required a lot of free time in order to apply it all over the body. You forgo it more often than not, long past the pubescent days of self consciousness and wanting everyone to like you. Your smell doesn’t bother you, it really doesn’t, but thinking about stinking up Hoseok’s new place brings a feeling of inadequacy and embarrassment to settle in your chest. 

“Hey, flower. Look at me, please?” He tucks a finger under your chin and lifts your head up. His gaze is much too tender for your liking and you hold your breath when his hands come up to rub your tensed brows. “I promise I mean it when I say that you don’t stink. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about that. I also know you have nowhere else to stay so you’re stuck with me.”

“But your home.”

He shifts his hand to cup the side of your cheek and your tongue suddenly forgets how to move. You let yourself relax just a little into his touch. Surely he won’t notice.

“I wouldn’t mind if you live with me forever, my precious flower.” Your heart is hammering away in your chest and you’re sure your mouth is hanging wide open. “I’d even let you scent my antlers.” He breaks out into a shit eating grin and laughs as your expression falls into a grimace.

“Oh fucking heavens.” Before he can feel your face heat up even further, you push his hand away and stalk off into your den with the sounds of his cackle and your furiously thumping heart ringing in your ear.

The sun peeks just above the treetops by the time you stand in front of Hoseok’s door. You fretted over him letting you stay at no cost to you, so you were determined to at least bring in a housewarming gift of sorts. You spent most of the afternoon applying that darn salve as best as you can over the smelliest parts of you. Just in case. You spent the remainder of the day scrambling in your incomplete kitchen, hurrying to get something out before the sun fell.

You hope he doesn’t laugh at you. You don’t think he would. With a few raps against the door, you wait with nervous anticipation, rocking on the balls of your feet. You reach behind to stroke your tail that hasn’t stopped swishing around since you left your den. Oh, heavens. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. It cracks open a second later and you’re met with a shirtless Hobi with an apron hung so loosely that it covers next to nothing. Thank the guardians for your flawless poker face.

“Where’s your shirt?” 

He ignores your question and asks one of his own, eyeing the package in your hands. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, um. Here.” You shove your batch of banana leaf covered rice into his hands. “It’s, uh, sticky rice. As a thank you.”

His face lights up with glee and he carefully tucks them in the side pocket of his apron. Stepping away from the door, he beckons you in. The inside of his home is immaculate. The smell of freshly carved wood immediately hits your nose and you could not be more grateful for the effort you put in earlier applying the salve. The immediate room is almost completely barren save for a feather stuffed sofa and polished wooden coffee table. You follow his lead into the kitchen where freshly picked foliage lies scattered across the counter. 

“I was hoping to finish before you came. I’m, um, almost done. If you could help me pluck the flowers out so I can wash them for our salad, that’d be great.”

He motions for you to sit at the dinner table while he moves further into the kitchen. You eye the variety of wildflower heads and herbs strewn on the table. You take the bowl Hoseok hands you and get to work with breaking the flower heads off the stem.

“Can’t believe you’re gonna be eating me for dinner.”

“If I knew it’d be this easy to finally get to taste you, I would have done this a long ago, my flower.”

Oh, fuck. The flower in your hand is promptly crushed in your fist and you stare at the back of Hoseok’s head with wide eyes. You walked right into that one. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He really said that. He’s really getting brave, this man. He snickers and tosses his head back in laughter.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything. Unless you want me to. Just say the word.” He turns around to wink at you.

“Word.” You snicker when his previously smug face froze into a look of shock, but he recovers much quicker than you anticipate.

“All in due time, baby. All in due time.”

Once the flowers are plucked and rinsed, he sets two plates down across the table. The delicious assortment of salted flowers, red clover, and alfalfa causes saliva to pool in your mouth and you can’t wait to dig in. One banana leaf wrapped rice is placed on either side of both plates and you’re anxious about his reaction. You hope he’ll like it. He unwraps his and your heart warms when you hear a small gasp from across the table.

“There’s banana inside?! Oh my god!”

He takes a quick sniff and eagerly takes a bite. He lets out a loud moan and sweet heavens, if you weren’t seated you might have choked and tripped over your feet.

“Damn! This is the best rice I have ever had. Here, try it!” Completely ignoring your pack of own rice already in your hand, he reaches over the table and brings his piece of sticky rice up to your face. “Take a bite! Go on!”

Your head is reeling. At his close proximity and at the possible indirect kiss. Oh, dear. Your mind really went there. He moves the rice closer until it brushes against your bottom lip and with goosebumps trailing up your neck, you take a bite so he’ll finally sit back down. Far enough away that his scent doesn’t invade your senses. Far enough away that you don’t do something stupid like get up and kiss him. His smile grows when you bite into it and returns to his seat, satisfied. 

Dinner continues with no other distractions. Until your mouth decides it likes it when your brain short circuits because the next words out of your mouth have you choking on a leaf.

“So… tell me why you’re shirtless?”

To his credit, he doesn’t bat an eye at your obviously flustered appearance. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you put on that odor repellent thing on you.”

You balk. You didn’t think he’d notice. Or care to mention it. 

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

“Don’t play stupid. I can’t smell you. I could barely smell you the moment you stepped foot in my home.”

Your cheeks warm at the knowledge of him actively seeking out your scent. Good god. You give yourself a mental pat on the back for having a steady voice as you lift your head up and say, “I’m doing you a favor, Bi. Considering I’m staying for a few days, who knows how long my scent will linger on you. You wouldn’t wanna repel any doe friends, would you?”

You’d anticipated an answer, but he remains silent for a solid minute, chewing his food and staring at you thoughtfully.

“I don’t… I don’t care about that. You know that.” He pauses and bites his lip. “But if you don’t, well, I want you to know that you don’t ever have to hide any part of yourself from me. I’m not ashamed of you, you know. I like it when others can smell you on me. So if it was never clear before, I’m gonna tell you now. You can get rid of that salve because never in the years I’ve known you have I ever seen you use it, and you’re never going to have to use it around me.”

You’re stunned into silence. Well. That was… a conversation you certainly weren’t prepared for. Sure, you knew your antics with Hoseok were all in good fun and you knew neither of you disliked each other at all. But it’s one thing to skirt around your weird friendship with him and bicker all the time. It’s a whole other thing to hear him speak to you with such sincerity.

“I just… don’t want people to talk about you behind your back,” you offer lamely.

“Bullshit. I could give a rat’s ass about what people have to say and you know that. Besides, no one’s ever cared about what you and I are up to. Not after that carnival fiasco. And since when did you start caring about what other people think about us?”

Us. He said us and your heart hammers away at the notion of you two being a package deal. A two-in-one. A pair. Oh heavens. For the first time since the conversation took a nose dive into the deep unventured waters, you lift your eyes from your empty plate and peer up at him. You didn't know what you were expecting but you certainly weren’t expecting the softest of smiles adorning his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that expression on him and you didn’t think it would ever be directed towards you. Now that it is, you’re not sure what to do with yourself.

“You’re important to me. And now that we’re neighbors, you’re stuck with me for a long time.” He rises out of his seat and grabs your empty plates. “Now c’mon. Come help your stag in the kitchen.”

The following days go as follows:

You wake up. Always before Hoseok. You’re surprised to learn that the man who is always so dazzling is not an early riser at all. He’s actually very mellow and grumbly when he wakes up, and your chest fills with flutters with the way he immediately seeks you out every morning. You never mention how your tail always seems to wrap itself around his leg when he comes to cuddle you from behind, and neither does he mention how he subtly bucks his head against yours as he slowly wakes up.

It’s only been a few days, yet you’ve already created a routine—one that is too easy to get used to. Without even realizing it, your day has slowly begun revolving around Hoseok. You wake up and make breakfast for the both of you. When he awakens, you head outside to stretch under the morning sun, then you go back inside to eat. It was an unspoken rule of sorts to eat together. 

You part ways after breakfast, going about your day, running your own errands, but you always make it back home just before sunset to have dinner with him. The week comes and goes much too quickly and before you know it, your den is ready for you to move into. As much as you’ve enjoyed whatever this temporary living was with Hoseok, you’ve really missed living underground and waking up to the earthy chill of the morning.

Come morning of your last day living with Hoseok, you awaken to a floral smell coming from the other side of the room. With a loud yawn, you stumble out of your room into the kitchen and coo at the sight in front of you. Hoseok stands over a pot of boiling water, dozing off on his feet. Cute. You almost walk up to him to wrap your arms around his waist. Almost.

Instead, you seat yourself on your side of the dining table, legs spread wide, and after clearing your throat loudly, you proclaim, “Good morning, slave. Wake up and bring me my tea.”

You stifle a giggle when his body stiffens and his eyes shoot open. He whips his head around and scowls at you.

“What would you have done if I jumped and burned myself?”

“Well you didn’t. Where’s my tea, slave?”

“You know, I woke up this morning thinking I’d give my neighbor-turned-roomie a parting gift, but I think the carrots in the garden are more deserving of the fruits of my labor.”

“False. You’re going to miss waking up to me in your kitchen with breakfast ready for you, you big baby.”

“I am, actually. I’ve gotten used to seeing you every time I wake up.”

Well, shit. You hadn’t been banking on this change in mood and you try to turn it back.

“You act like I’m moving far away forever. I’m literally your neighbor—your only neighbor.”

“Still too far for my liking. I like it much better when you’re one room away from me.”

He pouts. Actually pouts and you think you just might combust from the cuteness of it all, so you do what you do best. Change the subject.

“What are you making for us this morning?”

He perks up and lifts a tea bag sitting on the counter. “Hibiscus tea! I pulled out the real good one I got from Joon a while back. I only drink it on special occasions so you should be feeling real special right now.”

“Wow,” you smirk. “Maybe I should be nicer to you more often if it means I get free tea every morning.”

“That’s right you should.”

“Meh… that’s too much work.” You sit back in your chair and beckon with your hand. “Alright, stag. Bring me my tea.”

He scoffs. “I’m not your slave,” he says but he brings two teacups from the cupboard and pours the red tinted tea into them. He places the cup in front of you and you smile when you see a small mint leaf floating at the top. 

“Nice touch, but it’s going to wilt from how hot it is.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, that’s your problem. Not mine.”

“Fuck you.”

“Well, since you’re so eager, I can join you in the bedroom as soon as I finish my tea.”

You gasp at his dirty comment and with narrowed eyes you wait until he has his lips on the cup. Then you raise your foot to kick his shin under the table.

“Ow! Fuck!” The tea spills over his mouth and drips down his shirt to which you cackle in victory.

“Serves you right.”

He growls and sets his cup down then pulls the soiled shirt off. Well. Okay. You were not expecting that. Shit, shit, shit. Backfired. 

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off, all you had to do was ask, flower.”

You bite back the retort on the tip of your tongue and sip on your tea. He may have won this round, but there were plenty more rounds in the near future that you were certain you’ll win.

After breakfast, you pack up your belongings scattered around his home. It startles you how empty his house looks now that your things are gone, but before you can give it more thought, you scurry out the door.

“I miss you already!” He calls after you, and you can’t help the giggle that slips out of your mouth.

Once you reach the tree hollow, you turn around to find him still standing by his front door, watching you with a smile on his face. You blow a kiss to him and bite back a laugh when he staggers backwards and clutches his chest, as if your kiss had actually reached him. Oh, you had it bad. With one final wave, you head inside, comforted with the knowledge that he had it just as bad. You aren’t quite sure when you’ll be ready to face these feelings you have for him, but you know that whenever that moment is, he’ll be there with you, just like he always has been.

a/n 2.0: no i do not have a thing for hobibi wym??????????????? no i do not have 1234 fics written for him wym???????? did you like this 🥺 are they not the cutest? pls share your thoughts with me <<333 i don’t bite. promise.

#btsghostie #btsgoldnet #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #jhope fanfic #jhope fluff #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #deer hobi #deer hoseok #jhope #hoseok #jung hoseok #bts #f:stinkin adeerable #yolo #the way i never have a posting schedule

[awfullybigwardrobe44]

💕✨create the illusion of hanging out with your mutuals tag game✨💕

Tagged by @perhaps-mr-collins-has-a-cousin , thanks for the tag, this is a fun one!

are you a morning person?  it depends, right now it’s a hard no because of the meds I’m on, oddly. makes it super hard to get up early. but back in college I used to get up and do homework in the mornings, I liked to do homework with my cup of coffee.

ideal breakfast?  ugh, toss up between biscuits, gravy, eggs and hashbrowns and the sort of picnic-style breakfasts we had on my study abroad program. or a pain au chocolat. But most importantly, coffee. 

favorite warm drink, and how do you take it? as hinted above, coffee xD usually lactose free creamer if available, and if not, milk and sugar. 

sit in the sunshine or the shade?  SUN. I am essentially a plant and wilt if I don’t get much sunlight. 

favorite baked good? probably brownies <3 Or anything with cream cheese frosting.

a song or album that makes you feel at peace?  Phil Wickham’s acoustic album for “Children of God.”

take a walk with your friends or read a book next to a friend on the sofa? Walk! Most of my friends would be the kind to find little things to point out and be interested in and it would just be a fun adventure. 

what tasks do you gravitate to when making a meal with others?  huh, idk if I’ve ever thought about this. Does gathering all the ingredients count? 

a chore that if someone completed it for you you’d love them forever?  DISHES. I LOATHE DOING THE DISHES. SO MUCH. it grosses me out beyond words. Even just rinsing them to go in the dishwasher. 

favorite board/card game to play with friends?  ERS--for which there several different full names for but some may know as “Egyptian Rattlesnake.” Super tricky and fast-going and addicting. 

what kind of snacks/candy do you want at a movie theater? Mmm popcorn sometimes, but I definitely go for slushies. If I get candy, it would be something fruity/gummy. 

bar with live music or bar with a pool table?  live music, as long as I’m not expected to dance in any way!!!

go-to wine/cider/beer/cocktail?  I don’t really love any kind of alcohol. I will occasionally have some Irish cream with ice cream, in a milkshake, or in coffee. I don’t mind moscato since it’s so sweet, lol. 

go-to bar food?  Nachos or buffalo wings!

are you tending the fire, looking at the stars, or singing campfire/folk songs?  100% looking at the stars. please don’t make me sing, lol. 

a favorite Scripture verse or prayer?  my brain is useless right now so I’m just gonna be lazy and say the “gentle and lowly” one. 

are you the person begging to go to just one more bar/sing one more song, the person staying up late talking about love and the universe, or the person who fell asleep hours before anyone else? staying up late and talking!

tags if you feel like it: @nothinggold13 @faithfire @sojourner-between-worlds @221bdragonslayer @customarycreate @thetranslucentwallaby @queenlucythevaliant @the-old-fashioned-girl @the-lily-blooms-late @narnia77 @called-kept @wayward-wren

#asks

[thespoonisvictory]

Got any good c!Wilbur fic recommendations? I'm bored as well lol

so first of all, as obligatory self promo, I have an Ao3 with various c!wilbur and c!niki fics written. My favorite is probably “You Wonder What Happened”, just cause I think it’s neat.

Also! my bookmarks are literally anything I read and go ‘huh, this has really really good c!wilbur characterization (plus meridie’s adoption au? I think? idk but read that too it’s really good), so you can sort through that if desired. 

however, I’ll do some specifics.

if you’re really bored: 

The First Degree by ThroneofMist is a retelling of pretty much the election onwards, from the perspective of pretty much every character, fleshing out and filling in missing bits, up until wilbur’s death. it does have canon dnf, but it’s not a major part and easily avoidable, and I’m recommending it because the chapter where c!wilbur dies made me full on fucking sob in my bedroom, and made me forever mad that we didn’t get better c!techno characterization (129k words)

Valley Of Serenity  by Interjection is a fic where sbi essentially swoops off to go live in a forest and heal, where phil doesn’t kill wilbur. it’s canon family dynamic, but ohhh my god it really shines in how it shows c!wilbur coping (86k words, ongoing)

if you’re moderately bored:

the closed mouth of secrets by fensandmarshes, featuring a c!wilbur who is revived but cannot talk, who joins the syndicate as harpocartes without anyone knowing it’s him. very very good wilbur and niki content, good sign language content, and just very very good learning to heal content (and I don’t like the syndicate so you know it’s good) (14k words)

the skeleton living inside your head by patrichor is a time loop fic where every time wilbur presses the button he sees a different person trying to convince him not to, once again very nice wilbur and niki content. also features mumza as death, and a happy ending that made me smile. (10k words)

‘yeah I could probably read this in one sitting’:

flight risk by angelsdemonsducks features revivedbur growing wings, and I usually don’t really like wingfic so this is a strong rec. bonus points for genuinely subverting my expectations and writing c!wilbur’s self loathing so well (6k words)

sunlight in the pit by fensandmarshes: button room. niki instead of phil. need I say more. (3k words)

spider lily by blue000jay is a short lil revivedbur fic back before everything went down that roughly centers around wilbur needing to relearn some fine motor skills in a way that makes me very sad (3k words)

#wilbur soot #dream smp #fic rec