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jjungkooksthighs · 12 days

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (16)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 14.3k (We really said it's been almost a year so we're going to write thirty plus pages)

Summary:

At the bathhouse, you discover your alpha is much worse is off than you originally anticipated. You tend to him, but some scars never fade.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE, MENTIONS OF BROKEN BONES, MENTIONS OF LOSS OF BODY PARTS, dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, marking, manhandling

Author's Note:

It's been awhile since I updated. Honestly, the grown-up life is rough. That's all I really have to say to answer for the extended hiatus with this story and my other one. Mental health has been going up and down periodically and it really was so hard to write through it all. I spent about two weeks going back and forth with the chapter. I wondered if it would ever make it to a post several times because things kept getting deleted. I finally decided to just sit down and write and not stop. This is the final result. Thirty-one pages. I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry that this isn't the long-awaited mating chapter that I know you guys all really want to see, but it is important to me that the characters are nuanced and that their connection is not one built purely on the basis of desire. Sure, that is part of it, but there's much more to it. So much more depth and meaning when we build relationships with people. Especially romantic ones. Enjoy!

To read more, click here for the masterlist.

“O-over there, alpha,” you quietly suggest, “It would be easier for me to-“ you flounder in flusterment when the strong arm circled around your front curls possessively around you- “I-It would be easier for m-me to tend to you if you sat down on the bench.”

The male makes a deep, rumbling sound as he draws in another heavy breath of your intoxicating pheromones, “As you wish. But it will cost you for being so irresistible.”

The sound goes straight to your cunt, and you have to bite into your cheek to keep from making the sound of need that your wolf begs you to release. You shift where you stand, hoping that the quaint press of your thighs together will somehow trap the slick from where it is secreted from your sex.

“What…what is the price I must pay for my transgression?” You ask, hoping that balms, ointments, and medicinal solutions splayed on the tray you hold in your hands don’t fall from how much your heart pounds in your chest.

It’s hard enough as it is not to look down, for he is completely, utterly, and mouth-wateringly naked.

“Two things,” his uninjured arm tightens even more around your front, his hand bunching itself in your skirt as he groans at the fresh scent of desire that drifts from you. “The first is you will not leave my sight. I want you as near to me as you can be.” He noses at the side of your throat, your lashes fluttering in the warm sensation of his breath as he utters, “It was a second hell to leave you after that duel and be without you, but I wanted to respect the tradition–and your decision– had you chosen to prepare yourself for me.”

His words have affection swirling in your chest.

This male really was something special. Even after battling three other wolves and being severely injured on your behalf, he still put your needs before his own.

And really, how could you deny him his request when that was all that you wanted, deep down? To just be by his side. Forever his loyal, loving, doting mate.

“You needn’t ask me that, alpha, for it was already in my mind.” You faintly confess.

He likes that answer.

You know based on the way he presses his mouth to the oily gland along your throat. It is gentle and soft, and it is so different from what you’d seen on the glen not too long ago during his duel.

So much violence and so much pain he was capable of bringing, but with you, he would never harm a hair on your head. So great was his love for you that he would protect you from that even if it meant taking those scars onto his body.

He’d given his oath to you that he would do exactly that, and gods, he had kept to it.

It is why you let him maneuver you forward away from the watery basin you’d found him in and toward the long ebony wood bench that almost stretches from one end of the chamber to the other. A tall pillar of white wax holds a flickering wick that is set in brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling on each side of the bench, and in front of its legs are caged candles guarded by glass that have high, bright flames.

“How agreeable you are being. If you can so easily agree to that, then the second of my terms is this.” He turns you both before the front of your knee can make contact with the wood, the arm he has encircled around your waist spinning you so that you face him.

His hand never leaves your side, his fingers remaining entrenched in the sea of your skirts. Somehow, none of the vials fall from the tray you clutch onto.

Golden irises that burn with more intensity than the fire beside him have you utterly struck by their luminousness as he demands, “You will promise me that if this,” he jerks his chin toward his mangled form, “is too much for you, you will tell me. I said before that I only wanted you to tend to me, and I meant it. But if you are uncomfortable, you must say so.”

Again, he was putting you first. Despite the fact that he was hurting, he was still choosing your comfort over his own.

Just how much more could your heart swell for this male?

You shake your head, finding your voice full of doubtlessness and confidence that surge into you as you say, “I want to do this, alpha. I spent years studying the art of medicine and herbal treatments so that I could one day use it to help others.” You rise on your tiptoes to osculate your lips against his. “I would be lying if I told you I hadn’t secretly wanted to learn it mostly for situations like this.”

He smirks against you, his mouth lingering near yours as he teasingly prods, “Situations like this? Are you saying that you thought about getting me shirtless and all alone so you could touch me under the guise of that excuse?”

Heat races to your cheeks and that confidence you’d had before vanishes with it. Soon, you’re blushing as you blurt, “No! I mean, yes! I mean….alpha!”

Years ago, you had never entertained the idea that this male before you would ever become yours. That you would ever be able to have a moment like this with him. He had been a constant thought in your mind from the moment you’d first laid eyes on him when you’d been but children, and as you both grew older, his presence in your mind and thoughts had only grown stronger.

But apart from your dreams and musings, he’d been so far for you to reach with all the duties and responsibilities that had been thrust on you from such a young age. So many other omegas had vied for his attentions, and with all of them clamoring for one look in their direction whenever he had returned to the compound from his exploits deep in the forest or in the forge where he had been stationed, you had never been able to get close enough with a constant herd of wolves –female and male alike– around him.

His rank had drawn many to him, each of them hoping that the next in line to be the ruler of the pack would select them to be part of his inner circle. Any selected by him would instantly rise in rank upon his ascendance to becoming Pack Alpha, and so naturally he had had to be guarded in his interactions and limited in his contact with others beyond his work in the forge as the pack’s only blacksmith beside his father.

Rumors had spread fast in his unannounced absences that he would take with his father for increasing increments of time the older he became, because when he returned to work at the forge, there were bags under his eyes that had become more mature, had become hardened with the calluses on his hands as he worked them day after day.

Sometimes he would return with a new wound on his body that he tried to hide under the various furs he draped over his body. You knew because of the chitter of the omegas that would inevitably gossip about in front of the fire in the omegean den on your way back to your chambers after a long night in the archives that you went to after you left the schoolhouse for the day.

Those were the nights that you found your paws bearing down on the grassy ground as you ran through the hills deep in the woodland in your journey toward your favorite creek that was tucked away behind a wall of vines, deep into the forest, that no one but you knew about.

Or so you had thought.

He’d been there, too. From a distance, of course. From the moment you stepped out of your chambers, he’d been able to smell you. The wind had a cunning way of carrying that to him no matter where he was, and he was helpless to the wolf in him he had been learning to control that bayed and bayed until he listened and tracked that captivating scent that made everything else in the world fade away.

You wonder, as he urges you between his legs that he opens for you in invitation to stand between, just how much he had to sacrifice to be sitting before you now.

Your alpha observes your expressions change from embarrassment to concentrated concern, and he tugs on the invisible cord tying you both together that is the bond you now share. You let him in without hesitation, your thoughts becoming known to him as he draws on the connection.

He can hear your thoughts, can feel your emotions, can see your memories if he taps into it. In the developing stage of the bond, you wish you knew how to show him all of your dreams of him, all of your memories of him, and all your thoughts that you’ve ever had of him.

There’s something that you want him to see, but gods, your voice just won’t work the way you want it to under the emotion that cracks and breaks it. So, you let him see a memory you’d kept buried deep in the trenches of your mind for many, many moons. One that no one but he would ever carry.

It had been a rainy, stormy night. So heavy was the rain that it pelted your skin even through the thick coat of your white fur as you’d torn through the earth with paws too eager to rush you away from the center of your stresses and away to the woodland where it all melted away with the streaks of color that passed by you in your inhuman speed as you ran, ran, and then ran some more.

Thunder had rumbled through the sky on this particular night so loud that even your eardrums rang after the deafening strikes of sound that cut through the sky as lightning flashed before your eyes from under the canopy of trees.

The forest was vast, but that night, it had seemed all too small for you.

You hadn’t stopped until your lungs screamed for air, your haunches burning from how hard you’d pushed them, the bolt of white light in the sky similar to the color of the flame that had burned in the stone fireplace set in the middle of the wall on one end of your chambers while you’d carefully, attentively read the letter left to you on your windowsill.

Such a beautiful poem about a boy who had come to love the girl he admired from afar. And so meticulous had each letter been etched onto the parchment. You knew whoever had written it had taken much time to compose it with each swirl and curve of each syllable.

You had left it on your bed while you had gone to find another book to hide yet another letter from your secret admirer with no name, but had not noticed the shadow that had swept under your door to reveal your father, who had taken one look at the letter on your duvet before anger had turned him cruel at the prospect of his perfect little girl being corrupted by some hormonal male.

He'd cast the parchment into the fire despite your ardent pleas not to, the tears falling quickly when he’d let that fury burn you with pokers of curses and chastisements for your lack of purity.

He had always been adamant that you were to study the ways of the pack and devote yourself to teach its art to the youth. Those letters, to him, were nothing but distractions. Distractions that made you no better than the common whore in the fantasies they would ineluctably fill your head with.

Or so he had said.

That was why you had found yourself bounding through the forest that night with tears in your eyes not even the rain could wash away. But that night, fate had had other ideas.

You’d intended to go to the cave by the creek. You had never made it inside.

You’d stopped behind one of the oak trees on the edge of the forest floor before the soil turned to rock by the stream, the wide-mouthed cave beyond occupied by two figures.

Just by the smell of them, you knew they were of the same blood. One was older with their more muted, aged smell and one was younger.

You knew the scent of the younger one. That scent of blooming gardenia, pear and black vanilla. The same one that lingered on the letters left to you on your windowsill.

Each time the lightning pierced the black sky, their figures flashed. And each time, the two were locked in combat. Each held only a small iron dagger, their fighting leathers more than enough protection for them both lest either were struck by the other.

Unable to look away, you found yourself moving closer until you hid safely behind a thick, bountiful bush and could discern voices. Their voices. Only bits and pieces could be made out through the rainstorm, but it was enough.

“…too slow, son….can’t keep putting your arm up like that…too open and easy for me to…”

The next split of white light through the black sky illuminated them both, and the slightly shorter male with hair the color of ebony had a knife at his throat. It was held there by his father, who shook his head in disapproval as he gripped the younger male’s forearm in a vice-like hold.

“…cannot protect her if you cannot protect yourself. You are not ready.” The older male had decided. “Until you are, you will not see her. Even from afar.”

Another lightning bolt ruptures the clouds covering the moon, and a younger Jungkook had let his dogma guide his blade as he had voiced:

“Eventually I will be. And when I am, she’ll be mine. Not even her father will stand in my way.”

The next time the streak of lightning found its way through the atmosphere, the older male had been twisted around, his arm held behind his back while the younger alpha had pressed his blade to his father’s throat.

A self-satisfied grin with pointed canines protruding from under his upper lip had made your beating muscle in your chest stutter as he had released his father from the binding hold he’d had on him.

You could have sworn he looked right at you from behind the mess of leaves and brambles.

When the white fulmination cleaved through the clouds once more, your heart stopped when his father had quickly captured his son’s wrist to the hand that held the dagger by his neck only to bend forward and rotate forward, effectively flipping Jungkook onto his back. Jungkook, who had been unprepared for such a technique, had been brought to the craggy ground with a grunt, his other hand shooting out to grab for something, anything, to find purchase in as his knife fell from his fingers. Jungkook was fast, but his father had simply been faster.

The older male had easily used the momentum of move to step around and over Jungkook’s now prone form. Jungkook, who had been propped up on one elbow with a sharp looking rock held in his now bleeding hand from the blade of the dagger that had cut into his palm in the fall. It laid too far for him to reach, the essence of his defeat staining it.

White electricity strikes yet again, the deep rumble of thunder loud under the pounding of blood in your ears.

“Distracted. She occupies your mind even now. That…is dangerous, son.” The older male with gray streaking the black hairs stuck over his eyes had said. “Too dangerous for you to be allowed near her until….oncoming rut is over...”

That was the last thing you heard before there had been a flare of heat on your right, the rift of lightning arcing along the old oak’s stump beside you as the clouds clashed and loud sound pierced the earth.

You hadn’t even flinched. That didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the alpha on the ground who’s scent clung to the parchments that made you blush, smile, and kick your feet while you coveted them close to your chest as you wished to the gods that whatever force was keeping him from your side would release him.

The fascination that had turned every letter of his had tilled the very hard edge with which he spoke as he growled, “No. I cannot go through that again. You cannot make me.”

“Won’t I?” His father flipped the dagger in hand. “You’re on the ground right now because you cannot keep your mind off her. What is to stop you from venturing into her chambers tonight when you inevitably begin thinking of how good she smells? Of how pretty she looks when-“

Jungkook had pushed up on his hand, the other holding the rock slicing the air close to his father’s thigh. Each side of the older male’s mouth pulled downward, the metal of his dagger gleaming as sparks had flown upon impact of the pointed edge of the rock hitting the blade with such force.

“Don’t.” Jungkook’s jaw tensed. “Do not dare to say the things I mutter in my sleep when you have me chained to the fucking trees.”

His father had shrugged. “Then become stronger for her. Until you can, you’ll stay here, deep in the woods. Far away from her.”

The cords in the younger alpha’s neck went rigid as he scowled. “I will find my way to her. One way or another.”

With that, he’d pulled his knees toward his chest before punting his father in the chest with his feet. Such energy he’d used to push himself back from the older male as he’d used the force of the action to drive his feet over his head in a backward roll, his bleeding hand reaching around the hilt of the curved dagger on the ground. When he’d gotten to his feet once more, he had bared his teeth with determination set into those expressive features of his.

His father had nodded in approval, “That’s the spirit, son. Never accept defeat. That’s how you win.”

The clash of metal had soon become drowned out by the outpour of rain, but not even the water could snuff out the iotas of light that came at each powerful strike of their blades against each other.

Hours must have passed, but you swore it felt like it had only been minutes as your eyes followed the younger male everywhere he went, his wild dark locks sticking to his forehead and sides of his face as he moved with purpose and confidence.

There was an art to his movements as he continuously, mercilessly brought down his blade on his father’s. Time and time again.

Whether he held a quill or a blade in his hand, he was filled with purpose. Purpose that was entirely carved by you.

It had taken his father being backed into the stream for you to realize that you were too close. And that the air had become too thick to push air through your lungs as the organs in your chest contracted too deeply?

Why had it suddenly become so difficult to breathe?

Jungkook wades into the stream up to his calves, not willing to let up on his father despite the water urging him with its flow against him.

The closer he got, the more labored your breaths became.

You needed to shift. You needed to shed your heavy furs that had been drenched by the rain.

But to do that, you had to leave him.

So, you did. Quietly, you slipped into the night, careful not to make any sound lest you drew any attention to yourself. You hadn’t known you’d been holding your breath until you found your way back to your chambers, your footfalls light as your furs had begun to fall away from you. After you’d collected the rainwater you’d left in a barrel outside your window in several smaller bowls and emptied them into the cauldron hung over the metal hook above your fireplace to heat what would be your bathwater, your hands had sought the comfort of the thickest bound book that you kept on your bookshelf.

You had been too hasty to get to the dog-eared page you’d marked in the book, accidentally tearing the page before finding what you’d come to your book for. Inside it was tucked your favorite letter left to you on your windowsill. One that you found yourself rereading night after night.

It read:

The moon pales in comparison to the light that twinkles in your eyes,

The stars tremble in awe of your brilliance,

The night must blanket them and still, you offer more warmth,

Warmth that not even the sun can make as pleasant,

Warmth that the clouds could not even shade,

Warmth that no rain could fall with,

The flowers around us bloom, but none blossom with the beauty and grace of you,

The seedlings take root, but gods, none do so like the one you’ve planted in me,

The water they draw into themselves is life-giving, but yours is so much nourishing,

Still I sit here, hoping that you will allow me to bask in your radiance,

Still I sit here, promising that I will grow stronger in body, soul, and mind to be at your side,

Still I sit here, thinking of you when I cannot see, hear, or touch you as I do in my dreams.

Wait for me, my beautiful flower who only becomes more alluring under each moon.

Wait for me, and I will be your loving attendant,

Wait for me, and I will be yours.

You are forbidden to me now, but soon, you will not be. Soon, I will make you mine.

You will never have to look longingly at the wolves who hold and dote on each other while your only partner is the books you keep in your library. I will be everything you want me to be if that is what pleases you.

You will always have a shoulder to lean on, an ear that will listen, a hand that will caress you.

You will always have me.

You will never have to spend your nights crying into your pillow alone because of your father. I will be there to hold you close. I will be the fists that pummel him to the ground for daring to hurt you. Or anyone else that meddles your happiness.

All I can do for you now is watch over you from afar. Guard and protect you from the males I know you do not desire. From the females that have become venomous in jealousy of your unmatched intelligence, spirit, and beauty. From the threats that loom deep in the forest.

I hope you can forgive me for keeping my name and a face a secret from you. I suspect by now you have figured out who I am. And if you have, you will then understand why I commune with you this way.

The elders, nor your father, would allow it since you have not yet presented. Besides…it looks like I have some developments myself that I need to make. You have so consumed my mind and body that I can no longer make sense of certain things.

You are everywhere and yet, you elude me. It is the most tragic of ironies.

Until we meet again, my fair flower. I will see you long before you see me, but you can always find me in our dreams.

Always.

-Your Alpha

The air here had been clammy, too, so when you had let your thumb brush at the corner, the oils from it smudged the ink. Panic stole your breath and you not wanting to blemish the beautiful lettering, you’d slipped the parchment under your pillow and gone to the window to open it in hopes of letting some crisp, fresh air in.

Even here, you could still hear the clang of metal from the forest under lightly falling raindrops. You had let your body move on its own when you’d leaned out from the ledge of your windowsill that was only a few feet from the ground, the baser part of you subconsciously trying to be near to him despite the space between you.

That muggy draft that had clung to your ribs still did not dispel as the cold drops trickled down your body, the tears of the sky slow in their consolation as they dribbled along your arm as you lifted it up and stuck it out of the window.

It still wasn’t enough.

You needed to be able to breathe. And thankfully, you knew just what to do from all the books you read.

Hot water could provide relief to respiratory issues.

Your eyes landed on the largest of the wooden bowls you’d used to collect water from the barrel of rainwater outside, each of your hands holding it as you’d dipped it into the cauldron over boiling water, careful not to let it burn your fingers as you brought it to the tub, the sloshing of it causing you to stare down at it to see your reflection.

Your mouth was ajar with partially sharpened teeth that had not fully shifted back yet, your face flushed with redness and your eyes… your dilated pupils, now the color of the sun where they were usually silver like the moon, glowed back at you.

You blinked rapidly, surprise lighting up your face as you gaped.

Your wolf had been scratching at your psyche to do something about the irremovable weight that felt like it was pushing against your organs.

Another bout of thunder rolled through the sky from outside the semi-circular opening in the wall along the far end of the small, square room. The accompanying flash of lightning brought with it the deadly gleam of daggers behind your eyes, the image of Jungkook’s blood staining it in your mind’s eye as the suffocating pressure in your chest worsened.

You’d had to sit on the edge of the tub, unable to get air between your lips and before you could think, you raised the steaming bowl over your head and let it pour over you.

Its cascade down your flesh had immediately silenced your wolf, who preened at the hot sensation of the liquid all over your flesh. Everywhere the water touched, it washed away the uncomfortable weight that had smothered you so.

When you looked into the mirror across the room, the gold in your irises had been swept away with the last drop of water to leave only silver.

Your surprise had been doused until its remnants became distress as you looked up at the moon, your hands coming together before your bosom as you bowed your head in deference to ask, “Please, gods, do not let him suffer for me. Wherever he is, please, protect him from harm. Keep him safe.”

You’d gone to bed that night without bothering to dry off, the lightest of layers heavy on your skin as hushed prayers and pleas for his safety left your lips while you held the letter he’d left you against your thudding heart.

Words have a way of failing you when he’s around, but that? It was so much easier. So much better when you couldn’t find language sufficient to let him know what you wanted to say.

He seems to understand, because then he’s releasing your skirts and grabbing the wooden tray of salves, gauze, and other medicinal solutions with his uninjured hand and, lost in his eyes, you don’t even realize he’s put it beside him until his voice finds you through it all.

You need not worry for me, my love. I have everything I need right here. I may have had to grow up faster than everyone else around us, but I would do it all over again if it meant that you would be mine.

You only notice your hands are empty when you go to brush your forehead against his, your unoccupied hands lifting to cradle each side of his face as your eyes burn with the tears that threaten to fall.

“You are too good to me, alpha. I promise you that you will never have to be alone again. Not now, and not ever.” You pledge as you kneel between his legs, reaching for the thick roll of white translucent fabric with a loose, open weave. You take it between both hands, your mouth setting in a thin line as you rip it so that you have two moderately sized pieces while your alpha takes in the image of you on your knees before him.

“Nor do you, my love. I am officially yours now, just as you are entirely mine. No one can deny us from each other anymore.” He professes, lifting his unharmed arm so he can sweep your hair out of your face while you work.

It was no small thing to allow an omega to do this. The action was something of a rite that went back to the earliest of their ancestors. When an alpha was harmed in battle or in the hunt for prey, the omega that he let dress his wounds, by doing so, accepted the bond between them. To allow an omega to see an alpha at their most vulnerable…it was a very special, intimate moment.

And you knew of that. He knows because the thought surfaces in your mind the moment you daub the dry fabric against the top of each pectoral where four dark and furiously red lines curve diagonally downward and end on each side of his pelvis. Blood beads the incisions that Yoongi’s serrated claws had left, and the tears that had threatened to fall before fight against the entrapment of your eyelids as you try to blink them away.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, alpha?” You ask with the guilt weighing at your words as you uncork one of the small ovular vials containing a yellow liquid, the woody-sweet scent pungent in your nostrils as you use the oil left by crushed eucalyptus to clean your hands before you pour it onto the strips of fabric you’d just torn and after, you push the cork into the vial and set it down before you.

You let guilt drag each of your hands containing the gauze downward very lightly as you follow the large virgules of red. Where you normally would admire the strong, defined contours of his chest, now, the sight of it has woe whispering in your ear.

His skin is hot to the touch. As if fire burns under his flesh. So fuming and inflamed in the redness that surrounds the gaping, curling lacerations. Both sides of his sternum have been raked– no, ripped–through by sharp claws. Yoongi had cut into your mate’s skin eight blood red half-moons; four on either side of his chest that were turned away from each other, their ends incurving from the base of his neck all the way down his torso and even along his hip bones. Layers of crimson ooze and leak down his body like water, and the sight has something in your bosom tightening in on itself as your vision becomes cloudy.

Somewhere down between the middle of his pectorals, the cloths become too saturated and heavy with blood to soak up any more.

Perhaps the tangibility of his suffering is what finally has the tears falling down your cheeks, the burning in your eyes unavoidable no matter how many times you try to blink it away.

Despite that it feels as if fire sears him everywhere Yoongi’s claws had been, there is worse pain to be felt. Like the gut-wrenching punch that is delivered to his belly when he sees the first of your tears slide down your face.

With the hand he has on your chin, he tilts your chin up as he answers honestly, “Nothing harms me more than watching the light of my life weep for me.”

“I…I can’t help it, alpha.” You respond dolefully, your own stomach dropping to the bowels of your body at the high volume of blood he’s losing so quickly. He’d already turned the entire tub of water he’d been in red, and still he bled. If this kept on…

You don’t let that thought continue. You can’t.

You drop the sopping cloths into an empty glass container you’d put next to the roll of gauze only to take the roll between your hands once again. This time, you do not stop unraveling it until you have much thicker stretches of cloth folded into squares. You do not forget to grab the vial of yellow fluid once more, the viscous oil slow to make its journey to the cloths. You lightly press them against the spots you had had the other ones placed against. The second you put them to his mutilated flesh, they slowly turn crimson. The more they are stained with his lifeblood, the more you are soused with leaden compunction.

It burns, yes, but your sadness smolders him more.

“You are blaming yourself for this.”

It is not a question. It’s a statement.

You draggle each of the gauzes down along the underside of his pectorals, letting them rest there as you watch them turn completely red with his blood.

Momentarily, you wonder if the silvers he’d put on you before would be able to numb the contrition that pulls your spirits away from you.

Your mate will not have any of that.

He runs the pad of his thumb along your chin as he coaxes, “Peer into my eyes, Y/N.”

Unquestioningly, you do. He’s more than earned your obedience. What you see in the depths of those orbs is unending and bottomless in the plunge to the part of him that he would never show anyone else. The part of him that he had kept buried and sunken in wait for the right creature to unearth it. So many masks he had had to wear when so many had ulterior motives and designs around him, but this creature before him? He would break them all to pieces so she could see him for what he really was.

Once, he had asked his father how he would really know if anyone wanted him for him and not his power or his rank. His father had simply laughed and told him: You won’t. All you can do is watch and wait to see someone’s true colors when they think no one else is watching.

This creature before him who cried in the face of his pain and suffering did so out of pure, genuine sorrow. He could feel it sinking your spirits, your very thoughts through the bond. He could see it deep in the valley of your eyes that are, even in the guilt that tries to make them cloudy, drizzling with love for him.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were true and that you were absolutely, unequivocally his. That is why he allows the walls of his reservedness to crumble as he confides:

“Hear my words, my love. This is a result of my own weakness. I teased you before about you wanting to do this. But know that you are only in this situation because I wasn’t strong enough to do what I needed to do.” He doesn’t let go of your chin. With his other hand, he places it between your breasts. The action has him sucking his lip between his teeth as excruciating pain shoots through his upper bicep where the flesh has been torn from limb. A river of red gushes from the open wound, but it matters little to him when pangs of your heart are slower even than his as if it, too, was sulking itself in blame. Despite the way his split blood vessels cry more tears of blood in the movement, he goes on with a grimace, “I know what you’re thinking, my sweet, beautiful girl. You are not to blame for this. Do not pity me. Do not feel guilty for me. If anything, I should be the one pitying you for having to tend to me for such serious injuries.” He leans forward, his lips meeting the flesh between your brows, “I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you with only a scratch. But I meant every word of what I said when I made that oath to you that I would protect you with my body. My body can be mended. My soul, if it lost you, could not.”

The male before you shouldn’t even be able to move in his condition.

And yet, he does.

For you.

Your own emotions crack and fracture under the seriousness of his words and unhesitant ministrations. Each is packed with the mass of his candor and you can’t stop yourself from pouring your heart out to him.

“You ask me to simply accept this…this agony that you must be feeling, alpha, and I,” you cry out,” I cannot! I care too much for you to simply turn off my emotions. I cannot do it!”

You lift the strips of soddened fabric away from his chest through eyes full of tears, your sight descending to where you hold them in your now shaking hands as you place those, too, in the same glass bowl as the others. “You ask me not to blame myself, but your wounds…they are there because of me. And they are serious. Serious enough that if this keeps on, you-“ Your sniffle, shaking your head in unwillingness to finish the unbearable thought. You take the gauzy roll in your hands once more and unwind it, you have to rely on muscle memory because at this point, the constant slew of tears is too much for you to see through.

Your alpha’s eyes soften as you try to rub at your own, your tear-streaked cheeks sullied by the tracks the salty water had left, the fresh blood that now covers your hands a stark contrast to the darker, dried blood he’d painted on you earlier during the Smearing.

Why did that make you look even more beautiful to him?

“I’m not asking you to simply turn a blind eye to your feelings, sweetheart. Such a task would be difficult for anyone with a heart to attain.” He brings his lips under one of your eyes, the tang of salt and iron left on his lips as he does. “What I ask is that you try not to blame yourself for my errors. It is my misjudgment that earned me more scars. These are not the first, and they likely will not be the last.” He turns his head so he can leave a soft, featherlight kiss under your other eye. “These scars shall be proof of the trial I had to face to earn you. And I would take hundreds of thousands more of these for you. If I had lost an arm or leg tonight, I would have been alright with it. Your smile and your happiness are worth that much to me.”

The sound of the white fabric shredding between your fingers is muffled under his voice. It’s as if your senses have been dulled to all but him. Even the firelight fails to crackle in your ears amidst the steady beat of his own heart while you tremblingly let the lip of the vial teem with the oil that smells of honey, mint, and citrus.

“My happiness should never come at the expense of pain or suffering, alpha,” you murmur mournfully as you eye the bawling gashes of scarlet.

You crimp the gauze into two thick squares once they have been wetted with the oil before holding them down over the underside of each of his pectorals. You wait until the part in contact with his frayed skin is steeped in scarlet before you flip each of them over and depress them along the arched curvatures going in opposite directions toward each side of his pelvis.

His lips tighten, wrinkles forming where none existed before when you tenderly wipe away at the jagged ends of each of the four lines on either hemisphere of his torso where Yoongi’s claw had pierced the deepest, not bothering to hide his expression from you now at his most vulnerable. There was nothing to hide now. No reason to keep his pain from you when he knew that doing so would just upset you more.

It pains you to see him like this. You wish there was a way for you to make it all disappear, but unfortunately, there were no medicinal or herbal remedies that had the power to do that.

“Such is our way, omega. It is my duty to protect you. I will never neglect that obligation if it ensures your safety." He hisses when you gingerly drag the gauze along the same path upward to collect the stray rivulets of crimson that had dripped from the top of his wounds.

The incinerating flare of flames feels like it is scorching him from the inside out under each slash and tear in his flesh left by Yoongi’s claws, and each time you attempt wiping away the bloody tears his body weeps, more of his life essence is there to replace it.

The oil offers a mild cooling sensation, but it is similar to throwing a block of frozen ice into a roaring bonfire.

You note the lack of stoppage of blood flow from those wounds, concern turning your lips down even more. What you had been reluctant to think about before was becoming all the more possible now. Even if you did keep trying to refuse it.

Worry soon lugs you asunder with the guilt that swims densely about you, and your brows furrow as you instruct, “Alpha, I need you to lie down now. You aren’t having any changes in the blood loss and I fear that something bad may happen if you lose too much more.”

He nods, but the action has a dot spotting his vision and no matter how many times he blinks, it remains. Soon, there are more. And as he holds your watery gaze, more tears trek down the contours of your cheeks.

Something in his chest twinges that has nothing to do with the wounds Yoongi had left.

“As you say, my love.” He brings one knee carefully up toward his chest, his foot resting on the edge of the wood as he asks “What will you have me to do with this arm of mine? It’s in bad shape.”

You grab the now near-empty vial of eucalyptus oil that you’d set on the ground between your knees and return it to its place on the tray, your mind easily supplying you with the answer to his question after having spent so many nights hunched over tomes about medicinal treatments and herbal remedies as you rise, one of your hands wrapping around his nape and the other laying itself over the palm he has pressed between your breasts. The arm that palm is connected to is the one that Yoongi had mangled such that you can see bone between the split mess of muscles bordering it.

You can only imagine how much agony he must be in. If you could take it into yourself, you would.

Not that he would let you, though.

His promise to you had been made not only out of love for you, but out of pride as an alpha. An alpha that could not protect their mate was not deserving or worthy of her. It was an alpha’s responsibility by right to be the source of security and protection for his omega. An alpha who could not guarantee that for his omega had failed her.

Or so the tradition had held.

“You need to relax this arm and let me maneuver it so that it rests by your side. What I’m about to do will require a certain position,” you urge him down by the back of his neck, and while you know your measly strength could never compete against his, the fact that he allows you to move him so readily is an obvious display of trust. His back is laid atop the bench first, and you are delicate in the way you guide his head down until it, too, comes to a rest on the wood. “And it…it will hurt. I’m going to have to move your arm so we do not risk further injuring it. After that, I will need to clean it before applying pressure where the worst of the damage is.”

With conviction clearer than any concoction you could give him, he asserts, “Do what you have to do. You know what needs to be done. You have trained and studied well. It goes without saying that you have my trust. All of it.” He adds.

Gods, you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect mate.

“Let me be the voice of reassurance this time, alpha,” you express while you curl your fingers around the hand of his that is placed along your sternum. Your other cups the underside of his forearm and, scrupulously, you usher it to his side before slowly and surely straightening it. He grimaces, and to distract him, you assure, “I’ll do everything I can to fix you. I promise, alpha.”

You monitor the bone in his arm that shifts in the movement, the middle of his humerus exposed and clearly fractured. From the dark line running perpendicular to the bone along the end closest to his elbow, you know instantly that he’s suffered from a transverse fracture to the bone. Honestly, you had expected worse with the way Yoongi had thrashed his head with Jungkook’s poor arm trapped between his teeth. Those teeth had managed to pierce halfway through the vessels and muscles lining his upper arm, the punctures still gushing blood.

It should have been impossible for him to have moved it. And yet…

“How did you move this arm when your bone has been broken, alpha?” You ask, swallowing the emotion that wants to be let out as you assess him.

His brows scrunch together and he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The pain was inconsequential next to the sadness that pooled in those pretty eyes.”

You fight the burning at the edges of your vision as you silently take your skirt between your fingers, the soft material pliable under your fingers. You don’t say anything. All you can do is let your hands work as you find the slit cut into it and tear along the line.

“What are you doing, my love?”

It is a question not asked out of doubt, but genuine curiosity.

The sound of ripping fabric ceases as you pull a sizable amount of the organza away from you and turn it inside out before placing it onto the tray beside his head and grabbing for the rectangular glass canister next to the eucalyptus oil.

I have to clean it. It’s infected already, and if I don’t get the bacteria out, your condition will worsen. Once I clean it, I will have to mobilize and brace it. A piece of my skirt should be the outer layer so as not to discomfort you.

You don’t trust your voice not to rupture, so you gently push the words to him through the bond as you grab the roll of cotton wool beside the gauze and unwind it before pressing it to your lips, closing your eyes, and silently begging for the mercy of the gods to take pity on him. To save him.

You knew what to do, but there was only so much that herbs and medicinal solutions could do.

You discard the thought like one of the blood-stained gauzes before you. You couldn’t afford to think like that. Especially not when you’d promised to put him at ease as he had always done for you.

When you bring the wool away from your mouth, you lift the lid from the container and the musky, earthy smell of the ginger poultice you’d prepared weeks ago joins the scent of muted iron in the air as you dip the wool into it several times to ensure its transfer onto the material.

The ginger will not hurt you, alpha. The pressure I will have to put on you will, however.

“I meant what I said, omega. Do what you need to do. I can take it.” He confides, opening his mouth so he can bite onto it.

I know, alpha. I know. More than anyone.

You pick up the considerably long, thick strip of wool from where you’d left it in a heap atop of the open poultice, bending over him before straightening it out so that it ran the length of his upper arm. Thankfully, it was just wide and long enough to completely cover his arm.

With one hand holding one end and your other hand on the other, you bring it down over the split skin from just under his shoulder to just above his elbow.

Just as you’d told him, there is no burning sensation as the gelatinous, thick solution is applied and spread across his sheared muscles, blood vessels, and bone. The blood spurting from the ruptures in his flesh is quick to permeate into the cotton, but you’d expected as much.

The ginger and eucalyptus have antioxidants, antibacterial, antiseptic, and disinfecting properties good for fighting infections. That’s why I chose to have Namjoon collect them from my personal store that I made.

Have I ever told you how attractive I find your intelligence?

Yes, alpha. You have.

You smile through the tears as you untwist more cotton wool from its spool, careful to lay it flat over the existing layer you’d just put over him. It, too, becomes saturated with his life’s essence within seconds.

He needed something else. Something to help boost the efficacy of the poultice. And you knew just the thing.

You scan the tray, evaluating the vials and containers left on it as you note the last addition you had yet to make. There, in the middle, was the small wooden box no longer than your hand and no taller than your pinky. You flip open the latch, the powder inside a brilliant yellow with the hint of orange tang under your nose.

His irises follow your every movement as you peel the layers of cotton wool up and off of him, disposing of them both in the same bowl as the other discolored fabrics.

When you unravel the dressings this time and steep them in the poultice, your other grabs a considerably sized clump of the crushed turmeric powder and sprinkles it all over his slashed open arm.

Three handfuls of that later, you are satisfied with the way the powder has been packed over the gash and surround it with several strips of the material lathered in the ginger solution.

The turmeric has curcumin in it, which can enhance granulation tissue formation and wound contraction. It also decreases inflammation and oxidation and can increase antioxidant capacity of the body, which means it helps fight compounds that could damage you.

The words are recited just as you had written them in one of your journals, and you busy yourself remembering that in lieu of your mind wandering to darker, scarier thoughts as his life’s essence clings to your hands while you rip apart more strips of cotton and run them all through the container of poultice.

Keep going, my love. Tell me more.

He feels the quiver of your hands as you lay each rectangular cloth down over his raw, chafed abrasions lining his chest, his uninjured arm wrapping around your thigh to steady you as his temples begin to ache.

The ginger root that this poultice was made from speeds along the healing process for cuts and abrasions among the other qualities it possesses. You won’t have to worry about these dressings falling off.

Underneath each dressing you affix to his front, his very cells feel as if they are being engulfed in an inferno. One that only blazes hotter every second that passes.

The gingerols and shogaols are compounds in it that will work as a natural adhesive to the cotton and to your skin without sticking or gluing it to you.

His second lack of response has you tilting your head in confusion.

You had said before that the poultice was not meant to feel like that, so whatever was happening, he was certain that you were not the cause. Perhaps it was just some strange side effect of blood loss? How odd that this sensation did not spread to his arm. He really should have studied more.

I’m fine, love. I think. My chest… it feels like I’m burning up from the inside. Have you any idea what that could be?

You’d read many books on herbology and medicine practices. None had ever described that as a symptom of blood loss.

With worry making your mouth go drier than cotton, you examine the way he blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his eyes.

W-what else ails you, alpha?

More dots have begun to occupy his sight, and no matter how many times he tries to close and open his eyes, they will not dissipate.

I cannot see properly. It is like there are dark circles blotting parts of my vision.

That was definitely a symptom of blood loss. But the burning sensations? That wasn’t characteristic of the lesions that had been cut into his skin. Nor was the ceaseless gush of scarlet from his chest injuries.

You recall the events that had brought you both here, identifying that it had only been Yoongi that had managed to harm your alpha. He’d been bitten on his arm and struck by claws on his chest. Two different points of contact with two different mediums.

You compare the two areas where he’d been mutilated, spotting the angered, puffed up flesh just that became more raised the closer it got to his now covered traumatisms on his torso. Like something was agitating it from the inside. His arm, however, mangled as it is, is not as badly puckered up around the gash despite the blood he’s losing. Which brings you to your next observation: His blood drips slowly and languidly from his chest wounds where it wells and spurts from his arm. With as deeply as Yoongi had pierced through him, he should have been losing more.

What is going on in that pretty head of yours, my love? Have you…have you discovered something?

There’s a slight pause between each of his unhurried words through your bond. As if it took effort to pull them forth.

You push through the distress that wants to drag you down, forcing yourself to focus and do everything that you could to aid him as you turn your attention to his arm now that you had taken care of his chest wounds.

You needed to stop the river of red that streamed down his arm. Without removing the cloth you’d set over it, you use your teeth to shear the white open-weaved fabric from the now nearly depleted roll it had once been spun around.

I will have to apply pressure as I said before to make sure the medicines set on the punctures in your arm. It…it’s going to hurt, alpha. If you want, you can bite onto my skirts. I don’t mind.

The offer earns you a nod, and so you rise to stand by his side and a wad of your skirt in your hands, hoping that he doesn’t mention the way that they shake as you do.

Forgive me, alpha.

It’s all the warning he gets before you place the dressings over the first layer covering his arm and push into the afflicted area, mindful of where his bone has been broken and avoiding that as you squeeze. Unlike the ruptures along his chest, this area does not nearly scald you.

He curses, his teeth grating into the fabric of your skirt as you apologize over and over again, guilt leaving tangible evidence of itself on your face while you cry for him.

Anyone else would have flinched, but not your alpha. No, he simply screws his eyes shut as he hisses through the material between his lips.

I’m sorry, alpha. I’m so, so sorry. But you have to stay like this for five minutes. I have to try to make the bleeding stop.

The dots that had been impairing his vision increase and the ache in his temples he’d felt before turns into a fierce throbbing as the world begins to dim around him while the claw marks along his chest ripple forth with black blood.

You perceive the way his eyes begin to flutter closed, the arm he’s wrapped around your thigh beginning to loosen. A tremble overcomes his body in the way that it suddenly is as if it’s gone down many degrees, and at that, a lump of dread drops into your stomach.

Not wanting him to slip into unconsciousness, you squeal. “N-no! Stay with me, a-alpha!”

Your voice cleaves through the barren desert that has set upon your throat.

I’m sorry, my love…I’m trying, but…it’s cold, yet my body feels like it’s on fire.

There are longer standstills between his words now. Like each one has to be dug up from the recesses of his mind.

Why has it suddenly become a….a blizzard in here? Why does…does my head feel…feel like someone is…is pounding… into it?

The dread in your belly is joined by another chunked mass of fear as his responsiveness slows with the unseen ice that encases and numbs him. When his good arm falls limply to his side from where it had been encircled around your thigh, you snivel, shaking your head vigorously back and forth as you whisper through a cracked voice, “No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be.”

As his eyelids tiredly droop, that’s when the panic grips your organs and wrings them out.

You had to stay strong. And you could not panic. Doing so would only stress him further.

But that thought is difficult to keep under the fleeting consciousness of your mate before you, who squeezes his eyes shut before opening them wide in effort to keep awake as you had instructed as he shivers.

You swallow around a brittle, sandy throat, wiping your hands on your bodice before your attention sifts around the room in search of something, anything, to help you. You start with the tray. The bowl of blood-soaked, soiled gauze and wrappings sits on its edge, the rolls of gauze and cotton wool in front of it. Next to them, the rectangular wooden box of turmeric powder remains beside the canister of ginger extract. Around them, the vial of eucalyptus lays on its side where the other glass containers of assorted colors and contents are placed. Three had been unused.

The first was a smaller brown bottle of oil secreted from crushed neem kernels you’d plucked from the seeds yourself. The second was a moderately sized canister of milk-colored paste you’d boiled and ground from coconuts. The last was a large flask of honey.

All would work to stop the bleeding. Five minutes had felt an eternity with his continually shallow breaths in your ear, his heart rate weakening under the lack of blood to push through his body. You hadn’t understood why your vocal cords felt so sore, but when you release him and the mewling coming from your mouth dies out, that answers the question.

You waste no time emptying the bottle of neem oil over each of his wounds as you sniffle, “Keep looking at me, alpha. Don’t go to sleep. I-I need you awake for me.”

Despite the gnawing pain in his temples and the ever increasing temperature that boils the parts of him under the skin of his thorax, he battles the darkness that wants to swallow him as he tries to stay in the light of your eyes that shine glassily down on him while you pour the honey, with unsteady hands, along each striation channeling his chest and arm before adding another lining of gauze over his crimson turned bandages.

“One more, alpha. One more, and then I can make a splint for your arm.” You don’t care anymore about the snot that runs down your nose with the tears trailing it as his skin begins to lose its color.

He nictates through bleary, dimmed orbs, and the sight twists your heartstrings.

You keep your hands busy, because you know the moment you stop is the moment he could slip through your fingers.

You cover both hands in the creamy mixture and with the first pass of your fingers against his sternum, you wrench your hand back in the overwhelming heat that scorches you like a blazing sun.

“You’re burning up, alpha.” The words are choked out. “It’s gotten worse.”

He says nothing. Doing so would cause it to sear him even more.

His pained expression is answer enough. And the discomfort of the sensation it had brought was nothing compared to what you knew he faced. For him, you would cross any sea of fire. For him, you would do this. No matter the cost.

So, you gently trail your fingers around the reddened, plowed planes of his chest to surround all sides of the new contours there in the substance.

You shake the canister over his arm so that thick dollops land over the flesh there so you can spread them around, too.

Once you’re certain no part of him is bereft of your attention, you straighten and scour the room for anything you could use as a splint. There alone atop the cabinet by the door, was a clipboard with paper. No doubt a visitor’s log.

It was the perfect length for his arm.

Before you leave his side, you check his vitals for any unseen changes. Still he attempts to combat the throes of sleep that wish to pull him asunder, but the most serious of his wounds have now been disinfected and dressed.

“Alpha,” you prod, “I’ll be right back, okay? I need to get something to stabilize your arm.”

You wait for him to give a slow incline of his head, the action causing him to wince as explosive pain fires through his temples.

You turn, but the watchful glance you keep on him remains as you make your way across the room. You do not miss the way his fingers along his good arm twitch as if searching for you.

Your fingers close around the edge of the board of wood, your own chest splintering at the sight.

You return to him within seconds, but gods, it had felt like hours.

This time, you walk over to the side of him where his bad arm now rests, one of your hands wrapping around the underside of his arm to coax it only an inch upward. He lets you so you can slip the board underneath it as you observe him for any fluctuations in symptoms. His pupils are stagnant and idle, but they do not stray from you even as his breathing begins to slow and his heart beats become fainter and fainter.

Worry sets in your veins as you take the piece of your skirts that you’d torn earlier and tie it around the board of wood and the bandages you’d put there.

When you press your index and middle finger to the pulsating vein along his neck, it beats feebly.

He needed to replenish the blood he’d lost before it was too late. And you knew, right then, exactly what you needed to do to fix that.

However, no matter how much you flipped through the pages of the books you’d read in your mind, the answer to his inquiries and asymptomatic conditions he’d alerted you to did not match what you knew of blood loss. Whatever he had described was clearly something else. Something that Yoongi must have done since he’d been the only one to successfully injure your mate.

Yoongi, who had bitten him on the arm and his claws on Jungkook’s torso where, surprisingly, Jungkook had explained the worst of his pain to be. Where you yourself had felt it to be in the irate ire of the wounds there so hot to the touch.

It is with that identification that you scrap the books you’d read about common ailments in lieu of one you’d been hunched over for many weeks trying to memorize in its abundance of knowledge. One that had detailed poisons and toxins. There was one that matched what you had seen and heard from him. One that, if introduced into the body, was capable of corrosive necrosis in cells and had sensations and symptoms that matched what he’d described. One that was odorless, colorless, and impossible to cure.

It must have been dappled on Yoongi’s claws. He must have known about the deadly poison carried by a large fungus that even necromancers hesitated to harvest. It was capable of causing the entire bodily organs and tissues to break down and feel as if they were burning in their degradation when the toxins turned the cells against each other.

Jungkook’s eyes close, and horror clods your ribs and bowels of your body.

You had to keep him awake. For fear of losing his life, you had to keep him from sinking into the darkness.

Stay with me, my mate. My alpha. My love. Please, don’t leave me.

The words course like a ravine through the bond, the waters of your affections evident in the tracks they leave down your cheeks as you lift your leg up and over so you can sit astride him, desperation making you move before your mind can. The raindrops of your sadness fall over him like a fall downpour, and soon, his entire chest is wet with the salve of your handmade solutions and sadness.

The longer his eyes stay shut, the closer he dangles to that dangerous idea you’d kept rejecting and denying. That idea became more real by the moment.

You promised me, alpha. You promised me that you wouldn’t leave me! I can’t do this without you!

Distress takes control as the rush of thoughts spill from you and you bring your hand to your teeth that you had subconsciously sharpened in the iron that now falls across your tongue.

I can’t do this without you, alpha. Life without you was life without meaning. Life without you was like having silver thrust on me every day from the moment I woke to the moment I fell asleep: gray, senseless and deadening.

Something warm trickles from the sides of your lips when all of your now edged, serrated upper teeth easily prick and slice through your palm and you suck a mouthful between your lips.

The taughtened muscles around his eyes and mouth slacken, the movement of his irises behind his lids moving this way and that. As if he was still trying to search for you in the darkness. The gentle thud of his heart is all that you hear in your ears anymore. No other sounds matter.

You speak to him through it, hoping with everything in you that doing so will give him something to hold onto.

I love you, alpha. I love you more than anything in this world. So please, come back to me. Come back to me so I can express it to you, show it to you, and make more wonderful, beautiful, colorful memories with you.

You take his chin between the fingers of your other hand, lifting it before using your thumb to part his lips.

With the hand you’d just bitten, you hold it over his mouth only to turn your palm to the side before curling your digits in, your nails sinking into the fragile flesh to cut into it so that more streaks of crimson dribble down, the dark drops of your blood falling between his lips.

Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow it, but it’s not enough.

As you watch your blood spread across his tongue, you can’t help but notice how his skin has gone whiter than sleet, his usual golden glow drained with his life’s essence as he continues to shudder beneath you.

The faint presence of him dwindles in the bond like candlelight that the cold darkness schemes to snuff out, but still he is kindled in yours as you lean forward, your mouth seeking him.

Take my blood, alpha. Drink and replenish what you have lost. It is the only way.

The last sound of you is tucked in his mind just as your mouth slots itself over his, the mouthful of your blood that you had drawn forth from your hand soon emptied into his as he swallows it weakly. You mindfully set your bleeding hand between the middle of his sternum, the thick redness sobbing for him, too, as it spreads down his torso and seeps into the coverings draped across his chest.

With the first swill of you down his throat, the throbbing in his temples begins to dull and the air around him starts to warm.

It’s as if your blood had passed life into him, for his tongue eventually sweeps at the excesses of your mouth for the remnants that percolate from the small scrapes your teeth had left in your cheeks. You let him lick it, and with each pass of his tongue over each one, the muscle beating under your hand on his chest beats steadier. Stronger. Louder.

He required more. Way more after all that he had lost. And you? You intended to give it to him.

When he’s lapped all of your quintessence up, you pull away only to bring the hand you’d bitten to his lips in offering.

With his eyes still closed, he can’t see it, but he can smell it.

The tang of iron is powerful enough to summon his mouth to it, his baser being taking over as he closes his mouth around your open palm.

His teeth pierce through you easily and when your blood bursts forth from the punctures and he sups it without hesitation.

The violent, searing pain stemming from the claw marks along his torso where your blood had permeated through his bandages starts to lessen amid the ache that is dispelled in his skull. The quavering of his body soon ceases in the absence of the chill he’d felt before.

He wraps his lips tighter around you, and when he extracts your essence this time, it is with more urgency.

You run your other hand through his dark, ebony hair, the color slowly returning to his cheeks as he drinks from you.

“Take as much as you need, my love. You will require quite a few mouthfuls to, ah-“

You pause when he detaches from your hand, licking at the stray droplets of your blood before gripping your forearm to bring your wrist to his nose so he can inhale and run his lips longingly along it. His head falls back as he does, the pink muscle slipping between his lips to taste the remnants of you there, too.

“Want to…bite you…right here. Can I?” He asks hoarsely yet huskily.

You’re already answering before he’s even finished. “I’m all yours, alpha.”

The implications of this are not lost on you. By puncturing your scent glands where they produce the oils and scent of you the most–seconded only by your neck–his bite will forever leave his trace where he’d enter you. No other wolf would be able to take in your succulent smell without his lingering odor behind it.

From where you are seated on his lap, you swear you see his eyes roll back behind his lids.

When his canines elongate such that they protrude from his upper lip and he penetrates your flesh along the middle of your wrist, your blood eagerly teems into his mouth. Just like the first time he’d bitten you, there is no pain in the sharpness of those teeth. What was urgency before becomes hunger now as he feeds on you, his cheeks hollowing as he quaffs the life-giving nectar you have produced just for him.

You shudder as he draws deep, gulping mouthful after mouthful and all the worry you’d had before is sapped away as he does.

Your flavor is so fucking saccharine on his tongue, and each time your essence washes down his throat, his body surges with vitality and energy.

He can’t get enough of it. It’s too good. You’re too good.

More he takes and more he swallows like a crazed male, and you allow it as your own lids lower while you ogle him as the released endorphins stored in the glands along your wrist flood you in pleasure as you mindlessly–instinctively– rut your hips into his.

“Do I taste good, alpha?” You moan softly, your body growing limp as the fingers you’d twisted and twined around his locks loosen.

You taste sweeter than sweet.

His good arm shoots out so his fingers can splay around your hip to steady you as he indulges in the pulses and pangs of strength that return to him with each consuming swig of your lifeblood, your hips helped back and forth by the hand he has on one of them as your moans turn to whimpers.

You taste something like pineapple, grapes, strawberries, and everything good in this world.

When his eyes open, he looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess. Like you’re some kind of deity, and he is some servant beneath you.

He revels in the revelation that graces him as he takes in the sight of you atop him.

Your crimson-stained lips have slightly fallen ajar to reveal still jagged, pointed canines, remnants of red still flecking the sides of your mouth. Your silver irises have been glazed by desire, the daubing of crimson along your lids creating a deprived picture.

The dried, dark paint of his own blood that he’d smeared all over you was still there, but the new addition of his scarlet handprint between your breasts and streaks the same color all along your skirt and bodice are all the more depicting of a debased creature.

You straddle him, your gown ripped unevenly along one of your legs to reveal one bare calf and thigh.

How he had fucking ruined you.

His once pure, innocent goddess that must have been a fallen, divine being sent to him to save him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whine when your vision begins to darken at the edges as his teeth bury themselves deeper into your flesh so he can cravingly command more of you down, “I…I-“

The strong hand on waist pulls you down over his hardening member, your breath hitching when you remember he’s entirely naked beneath you.

“Even goddesses have their limit. I can see it,” he groans around your wrist as he savors the way you sag forward, your thighs loosening from where you’d been squeezing him between them. “I can feel it.”

He takes one more mouthful of your rich, piquant ichor, your front slumping forward until your head rests in the crook of his neck.

With your jugular vein so close to his ears, the rhythm set by the tune of your heart beats far too slow. The sound snaps him out of his craze instantly as the hand on your waist clutches you tighter as if you might slip away if he doesn’t hold you close enough.

“Goddess? Do you mean…me?” You drawl out the words through the tingling sensation in your head.

Despite the loss of your blood, affection courses through you when he attentively dislodges his teeth from you and makes sure to catch the bright red drops that run forth from the two new dark blots along the underside of your smaller wrist. As he does, he affirms, “You saved me.”

The hand at your waist gives you another comforting squeeze before it journeys up along your side, your shoulder, and then down your arm until his digits close around your wrist so he can rub soothing circles into it. “I was so lost in the darkness, omega, but your voice…I followed it back to you.”

“Me?” It’s all you can say. The rush of endorphins fades with the extraction of his teeth, and your hips slow to still as his words sober you.

One side of his lips turn up at that. “Yes, my love. You.” He coaxes your wrist upwards so he can kiss you where his teeth and yours had been. “You, the light of my life. The reason for my being, The purpose of my existence.” His head falls to the side as he shepherds your hand toward the palpitating muscle along his chest. “I once thought of you as my queen, but I see now that you’re so much more than that.” He places your hand right above his heart, and you’re so mesmerized by those beaming irises of gold that you don’t even realize what he’s done when those warm, calloused fingers brush along the side of your cheek until they rest in your hair and his palm holds the edge of your jaw to coax it upward as he brings his mouth near to yours. “Your voice is a song that even the muses envy. Your body is the drink of the gods that even they would fight wars for. Your mind and soul are so perfect and good that even demons would wish they could bottle them.”

His eyes twinkle with sincerity as he goes on, both fondness and affection for him taking turns to cleanse you of the desire you’d felt before so that something much deeper can fill your entire being.

“Shhh, alpha… you need to rest now. This can all wait until later.” Your words are throaty and full, for your heart has somehow found its way there, too. “You lost a lot of blood and-“

He seals your mouth with his, and like wax under a newborn wick, you melt into it. He’s warm and gentle in the warmness that he emanates that no candle ever could. The quiet intimacy of it has your lids falling to a close, the air around you making way for you both as you share each other’s breath.

There was nothing quite like this. Nothing like the way that your fingers sought any part of him that they could as they both encircled his uninjured wrist, unwilling to let him go. Nothing like the way your body was perfectly molded against his, the kiss akin to a butterfly’s wing in its softness that could take your breath away. It was the water that quenched after a drought. It was the furs that gave such comfort on a winter’s night. It was the rain and a flame all at once.

And gods, he couldn’t bear even a second’s separation from her. Truly, he’d never been so blessed with the gift of life until now. Until you. Hell would surely have frozen over before he would relinquish this: your mesmerizing, mellow eyes; your pliant, pretty lips; your stuttered, stammered breaths whenever he looked at you; your smaller, tinier hands that loosed and tightened around his wrist as he held you.

But his damned lungs just had to get some air, and so he had been forced into breaking the kiss.

When his mouth parts from yours, he breathes heavily. “I do not need rest when I have you. Imaginings and visions leave little to be desired when their source is on top of me like this. And,” the other side of his lips lift up and you’re sure that thudding in your ears gets louder as he does, “It would be rather impolite not to pay my respects to you, my divine little deity. You were–are–magnificent.”

You try to hide your face in his neck, your cheeks heating up at his praise. He won’t have any of that, and so he urges it back up.

Looking into those eyes is like looking into two orbs spun by the sun. That warmth that emanates over your skin like warm rays makes everything else lackluster, and even his voice carries that vivid color of emotion as he voices, “Do not hide from the truth, my love.”

You make a sound of questioning, not understanding what he’s just said. It’s as if there’s a fuzzy blanket around your body and mind, your disoriented thoughts too sluggish to formulate for you to say much more.

He chuckles lightly, his chest moving up and down gentle enough to not jostle you.

“You do not know it, but I shall help you see.” He offers, nosing at your jawline as he does. “Allow me to show you what you did to me, my love. I think you’ll find the evidence of your miracles when you do.”

He releases you, a quiet whine leaving your lips at the absence of his touch. Soft lips are there to soothe you when his mouth brushes where his hand had been at the edge of your jaw. There he presses his lips as he tells you, “Look down, my love.”

You’d been expecting to see more blood spilling from the open wounds arcing down both sides of his chest, his bandages completely soaked through with his life’s essence.

You did not expect to see one of the lines of gauze you’d laid down over the lacerations lifted in the air by your alpha to reveal a deep gash completely closed, the angry red slash now only a faint line of pink.

As if it were nothing but an old war scar.

At first, you think you might be seeing things.

You blink owlishly at him, and he grins only to pull back another strip of fabric that you’d used to pack another wound.

It, too, is only a faded, paled remnant of what it had been minutes ago.

Your fingers lethargically draw down his torso where the flesh that had been raised and furious is now smooth and normal.

There is no pain that festers there with the poison that had been set upon him by Yoongi’s claw. Its dissipation had had nothing to do with your medicines. He knows that now. It had been you.

Your lids have begun to grow heavy as sleep begins to beckon, and all you can do through the drowsiness that has set as you rest one of your temples against his shoulder so you can still stare at him as you manage the only word you can summon in your dumbfounded state. “How?”

“My mother used to tell me stories about our ancestors. It was said that the first rulers of our kind, who were chosen by the gods, were given abilities no others possessed.” Your mate tosses the soiled dressings into the bowl before he reaches for his splinted arm wrapped in bandages. “Abilities that made the rest of our kind lower their heads in awe.” He unties the knot you’d made out of the ripped fragment of your gown you’d affixed the wooden board to, and while he does, he tells you, “She told me that the king and queen of our kind were fated by their souls. That the first omega’s songs of mourning had so moved the gods when he’d been killed trying to protect her that they gave her the power to heal him through her kiss.”

Slumber drags you away from him, his voice fading the more it tugs and tugs you as he goes on. “So powerful was she that the other wolves revered her as a goddess in her capacity to mend and restore not only the physical body, but the soul and mind as well. And her king? He was vested by the gods who took pity on him with strength, speed, size, and stamina that no other could match.”

Distantly, you think you see a glimpse of the linens you’d put around his arm being peeled back to uncover what you had thought had been a mangled mess of bone and flesh. But no longer. Now, just like his chest, there are only small grazes and punctures that have since been pulled together with slightly darker cicatrix marring him.

When your lids fall closed and sleep takes you from him, he uses that arm to secure you close as he attentively watches over you. In your ear, he confides, “Rest up now, beautiful deity. You shall need it for what is to come, my love.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts writing #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #alpha!jungkook #alpha!jungkook x reader #dom!jungkook #sub!reader

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Text

Examining SVSSS Canon: 2/∞

THE PRE-CANON TIMELINE

This post will attempt to provide an answer to several questions, including the ages of some of the current peak lords, as well as a rough timeline of events in the extras relative to the current day. A simple, bullet-point timeline will be at the end of this post, with relevant quotes and analysis above.

The timeline of SVSSS isn't particularly easy to piece together, and many fans are unsure of things such as the ages of certain characters, or how long the current generation of peak lords has been in power. As a matter of fact, it seems like even Airplane himself doesn't have a set timeline in mind for the events of PIDW pre-LBH:

“Your ages?” To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t really know the precise age of this body. He raised his head at Shang Qinghua. “Wouldn’t you know better than I do?” Shang Qinghua twirled the brush in his hand. He’d never thought about this question either, so he figured he might as well just say whatever. Therefore he randomly wrote a number down in a couple of strokes. (7 Seas, Ch. 31)

It would be easy enough to take this quote and call the timeline a mystery-- however, there are a surprising amount of clues in the text, enough to at least put together a decent idea of when things happened and how old certain characters are, depending on which theories and interpretations one ascribes to.

There are two particular facts which are our most important hints as to the pre-LBH timeline, upon which this entire analysis hinges.

First, we have the spacing of the Immortal Alliance Conferences:

After much difficulty, Luo Binghe managed to turn seventeen, at which point he finally participated in the event the cultivation world held once every four years: the Immortal Alliance Conference. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

And next, we have the length of time since Shen Qingqiu began to cultivate:

Before, Shen Qingqiu had thought that this body’s qualifications were already incredible, to have formed a core in only ten or so years when he’d begun cultivation so late. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

Notably here, what is translated as "ten or so years" is 十几年， which is more accurately "ten and a few years." This means that at the time Shen Qingqiu formed a golden core, he had been at Cang Qiong Mountain for around 10-15 years, but likely no longer or shorter than that.

This tells us quite a bit already-- because we know that Shen Qingqiu only reached core formation after becoming peak lord, as well as after Luo Binghe had already become a disciple:

Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh... Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So this tells us that it could not have been any longer than around 15 years between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe joining Cang Qiong Mountain, and was likely at least a few years less than that because it has already been awhile since Luo Binghe was given the fake manual, which likely occured shortly after he arrived, and Shen Qingqiu reaches core formation at some point after this scene.

This means that the Qing generation's ascenscion likely occured no more than ten years after Shen Qingqiu joined the sect-- putting the ages for Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan respectively at roughly twenty-six and twenty-nine when they became peak lords.

The timeline can be clarified further and expanded, however, due to the spacing of the IAC. We know that the IAC occured when Luo Binghe was seventeen, and that it occurs every four years-- meaning that there would have been IAC taking place also when he was thirteen, nine, five, one, and three years before he was born.

However, we also know that it had not actually been fourteen years since Luo Binghe's birth at the start of SVSSS.

In the translation, Luo Binghe says the following when Shen Qingqiu asks his age:

“This disciple is fourteen,” Luo Binghe obediently replied. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

However, the original says:

洛冰河乖巧地道：“弟子虚岁十四。”

"虚岁" here would be better translated as "nominal age." In ancient times, a child was one year old on the day of their birth, and aged up by one year with each new year-- so if a child was born the day before the new year, then at two days old he would already be counted as two years old. Sometimes, this would be counted on the spring festival new year, but other times it would be counted on the winter solstice.

As for Luo Binghe's precise chronological age, that is up for some determination. We know roughly the time of year he was born:

Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year... (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

The "coldest days of the year" here is 数九寒天, which refers to the nine periods of nine days each following the winter solstice. The winter solstice typically occurs on December 20-21, meaning that Luo Binghe's birth date is somewhere between December 20-March 12. If nominal age is being counted by winter solstice in this world, then that makes him chronologically thirteen at the start of SVSSS, but if it is calculated by the spring festival, then he is chronologically either twelve or thirteen at the start of SVSSS, as the Chinese new year can fall anywhere between January 21 - February 21, meaning that LBH could have been born either before or after this time.

So, let's just say that LBH's chronological age, for the purposes here, is thirteen, and then adjust our IAC timeline as follows：

There was one when he was chronologically sixteen, twelve, eight, four, the year he was born, and four years before he was born.

Now, how does this help us determine a timeline?

Well, we have the following statement:

Yue Qingyuan’s knuckles slowly brushed along Xuan Su’s hilt. “I was able to meet Senior Su Xiyan once at an Immortal Alliance Conference, many years ago." (7 Seas, Ch. 18)

Because we know that Su Xiyan died when Luo Binghe was born, we know that this meeting could not have occured at any conferences after his birth. It also would be unlikely that they met the same year Luo Binghe was born, as Su Xiyan would likely already be dead at that point if LBH was born after the new year. So, the latest that Yue Qingyuan could have met Su Xiyan would be twenty years before Luo Binghe was thrown into the Abyss.

We now combine this with the earlier discussion of the ages of Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan, and here I will note the following:

Yue Qingyuan slowly said, “At age fifteen, I entered Qiong Ding Peak." (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

This puts Yue Qingyuan roughly three years older than Shen Jiu:

“When [Shen Jiu] was twelve years old, he was but a slave my family had purchased from traveling child traffickers. " (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

Shen Jiu joined Cang Qiong Mountain at sixteen:

Liu Qingge didn’t even grace him with a sideways glance. “But certainly more success than a nobody who only began proper cultivation at age sixteen.” (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

This happened most likely directly after reuniting with Yue Qingyuan at an Immortal Alliance Conference. This puts Yue Qingyuan's age at nineteen during that conference, at which point he is head disciple, and has already gained some fame. However, this reunion has to occur before Luo Binghe's birth, Su Xiyan's death, and Tianlang-jun's defeat. This is because at this point, Yue Qingyuan has only been in Cang Qiong Mountain for four years-- thus, this particular conference is almost certainly the first one he has taken part in, and likely the first one he has attended at all, since a brand-new disciple in early stages of training most likely wouldn't have gone, therefore if Tianlang-jun had already been sealed by this point, Yue Qingyuan would not have had the chance to meet Su Xiyan.

So, the latest Shen Qingqiu could have joined Cang Qiong Mountain, at age 16, is twenty years before the Abyss, which would put him at age thirty-six at the youngest at that time.

Now, what about additional conference cycles?

It's possible that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan and/or after which Shen Qingqiu joined CQM may have been the one before this-- but that would also add four additional years to the time SQQ had been cultivating.

The earliest that Luo Binghe could have joined CQM would be when he was a little over ten years old, as that is when his mother dies:

On the bed lay a haggard old woman. With great effort, she tried to prop herself up, but from beginning to end, she was unable to do so. A small figure rushed in from outside. A tender-faced Luo Binghe, only a little over ten years old, supported the woman. Around his neck hung that jade pendant. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Shen Qingqiu had not reached core formation when Luo Binghe joined the sect. This means that if the IAC where SQQ joined the sect was four years before Luo Binghe's birth, then by the time Luo Binghe joins the sect it has been about fourteen to fifteen years since SQQ began cultivating.

Adding an additional four years would bump that to eighteen to nineteen years, which exceeds the "ten and some" years that SQQ took to reach core formation.

In my opinion, this also tells me that LBH joined CQM when he was absolutely no older than ten or eleven, and likely went to join immediately after his mother's death, because pushing LBH's join date later would also stretch the timeline of SQQ's cultivation. Now, this part does not specify whether the ten years old is nominal age or chronological age-- but because LBH's age of seventeen at the conference is referenced to his nominal age of fourteen, with a distance between of three years, then I am considering all age-numbers to be nominal age rather than chronological. This only really matters in regards to Luo Binghe for this analysis, though, as his birth year is the only one which has bearing on the timeline in regards to Su Xiyan's status.

With all of this information, we can determine with good confidence that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan was the same conference during which he reunited with Shen Qingqiu, which occured four years before Luo Binghe was born and twenty years before the Endless Abyss.

So because of this, we actually do have a relatively precise timeline of characters' ages, as well as events in the cultivation world.

This short timeline is also supported by the fact that Ming Fan is the most senior of Shen Qingqiu's disciples, and he is only sixteen, about 2-3 years older than Luo Binghe:

A youth around sixteen years old, tall and thin, promptly ran in through the door. “This disciple is here. What instructions does Shifu have?” (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

Had the Qing generation ascended too many years prior to Luo Binghe's joining the sect, it would be strange that the most senior disciple of Shen Qingqiu's was only sixteen, as in xianxia a disciple typically will not "graduate" at a certain age or cultivation stage, meaning that older disciples will maintain their role well into adulthood.

As for the rest of the peak lords, we have little to no information regarding the ages of Wei Qingwei, Qi Qingqi, or Mu Qingfang. However, we do know that Liu Qingge is quite young, and joined the sect both at an optimal age and a significant length of time before Shen Qingqiu:

At this point, Liu Qingge’s formal ascension to Bai Zhan Peak Lord, too, had likely only happened a couple years ago. There was a visible air of immaturity about his features, his gaze fierce and sharp, and within his every action was a young man’s spirited vigor. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

and

Therefore, even though he’d entered the sect quite some time after Liu Qingge, because Qing Jing Peak was ranked second—only below Qiong Ding Peak—while Bai Zhan Peak was ranked seventh, Liu Qingge still had to address Shen Qingqiu as “Shixiong,” if through gritted teeth. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So, Liu Qingge is likely a year or two younger than Shen Qingqiu, but not by too much, since they still behave very much like contemporaries as teenagers-- let's say that Liu Qingge is likely around 14-15 when Shen Qingqiu joins the sect at age 16.

The other peak lord we know a bit about the age of is Shang Qinghua:

The older-than-average outer disciple Shang Qinghua, who currently occupied a seventeen-year-old body, looked around in all directions as he trailed behind the main team, who were unloading goods from the ship onto the docks. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

He is seventeen here, and an outer disciple of An Ding Peak. We can place this a bit more definitively on the timeline by the fact that Shen Qingqiu is already a head disciple at this point in time:

“What I don’t know is how Shen Qingqiu got chosen as head disciple after starting cultivation so late,” said another outer disciple who’d joined Cang Qiong Mountain at an older age, his expression sour. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Unfortunately, we cannot place the exact point in time where Shen Qingqiu became head disciple-- one possibility is that it couldn't have happened until after Tianlang-jun's defeat, which occured about four years after he joined the sect, since he did not participate in the battle. But that is a weak argument, since none of the current generation besides Yue Qingyuan participated in that battle:

Of the current peak lords, only Yue Qingyuan had participated in that battle, as the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. (7 Seas, Ch. 17)

If using this argument, then that would mean that aside from Yue Qingyuan, none of the other peak lords had been chosen as head disciples at that time-- while that is a possibility, I think that a more feasible explanation would be that Yue Qingyuan was an exception, and participated in the battle specifically because of his wielding Xuan Su.

One thing we can extrapolate, however, is that Shang Qinghua was most likely an inner disciple for at least three years before the Qing generation's ascension. This is because of the following:

One day, Shang Qinghua’s concise Great System delivered a new command: Become the An Ding Peak head disciple within three years. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Now, it is somewhat loose evidence, as there is nothing to say that "three years" means for certain that the ascension would occur three years from that point, but it does mean that it occured no earlier than that. By now, Shang Qinghua has already been an inner disciple for some time, long enough to have been assisted by Mobei-jun a few times and to have gone on several missions-- most likely around a few months to a year or so at minimum.

Of course, how long has passed between Shen Qingqiu joining the sect and this point? Well, since Shen Qingqiu is still described as a youth:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Because of this description, I would say that Shen Qingqiu is most likely between seventeen and his early twenties, since it isn't particularly likely that he would become head disciple in less than a year after joining the sect. Of course, within this age range, there is one important event that occurs-- the battle of Bai Lu mountain, which would have occured when Shen Qingqiu was twenty and Yue Qingyuan was twenty-three.

Now, this gets into more of a speculation than anything else-- just before this point, Mobei-jun attacked Huan Hua Palace and the An Ding Peak disciples. If the battle of Bai Lu Mountain had already occured, it would have happened no more than a few years earlier. We also know that there is a tentative truce between the demon realm and the cultivation world:

This suggestion was solid. For many years, the Human and Demon Realms had maintained an uneasy balance and had yet to drop the pretense of peace. Eliminating Sha Hualing and her mob wouldn’t be impossible, but it would likely light a fuse. The demons definitely wouldn’t let her death go unanswered, and it wouldn’t be worth it if they stirred up an even greater conflict. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

I suspect that this pretense of peace was likely set in place after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, when the demon realm had just lost their ruler.

Since just a short time had happened since the demons' defeat and a likely truce between the realms, I find it unlikely that Mobei-jun, a prominent member of demonic nobility, at this time would be actively antagonizing the cultivation world by attacking Huan Hua Palace and Cang Qiong Mountain. Now, of course, there is a potential alternate storyline that this is exactly what happened, and Mobei-jun went rogue as an act of lashing out, and that interpretation would be perfectly valid on its own.

Personally, though, I believe that Shang Qinghua's meeting with Mobei-jun occured before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, while the cultivation world and demon world were in the tense state on the edge of war. This means that Shang Qinghua most likely became an inner disciple when Shen Qingqiu was around 17-19 years old.

With this information, we can determine some relative ages:

Yue Qingyuan is three years older than Shen Qingqiu, who is a little older than Liu Qingge. Because Shang Qinghua was seventeen when Shen Qingqiu was already head disciple, it is most likely that he is around Liu Qingge's age, give or take a few years, as it is not particularly likely (though potentially possible) for Shen Qingqiu to have gone from new disciple to head disciple in the space of a single year.

Aside from these four, there are no other ages that can be determined for the peak lords.

With all of this information, a fairly decent timeline can be created. Characters' ages will be listed with each notable year.

《 THE TIMELINE 》

*counted up to the start of SVSSS. If using this timeline, keep in mind that the earliest and latest notes for date ranges can overlap-- do not accidentally have a disciple join the sect before the current peak lords ascend, or have SQH become head disciple after ascension! Dates with ranges are colored green (earliest) and red (latest).

Earlier than -21 YR

LQG: <;10-11

(earliest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-21 YR

LQG: 10-11, SQQ: 12, YQY: 15, QHT: <16, QJL: 16

Shen Jiu sold to Qiu Jianluo

Yue Qi joins Cang Qiong Mountain

--IAC--

-19 YR

LQG: 12-13, SQQ: 14, YQY: 17

(earliest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

-18 YR

LQG: 13-14, SQQ: 15, YQY: 18, QHT: <19, QJL: 19

(latest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

Shen Jiu kills Qiu Jianluo and burns down Qiu Manor

Shen Jiu becomes Wu Yanzi's disciple

(earliest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(earliest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

(latest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-17 YR

LQG: 14-15, SQQ: 16, YQY: 19

(latest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(latest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

--IAC--

Yue Qingyuan meets Su Xiyan

Shen Jiu kills Wu Yanzi and joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-16 YR

LQG: 15-16, SQH: 15-17, SQQ: 17, YQY: 20

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(earliest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

-14 YR

MF: 2, LQG: 17-18, SQH: 17-19, SQQ: 19, YQY: 22

(latest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(latest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(earliest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(earliest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

-13 YR

NYY: <1, LBH: 1, MF: 3, LQG: 18-19, SQH: 18-20, SQQ: 20, YQY: 23

(latest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(latest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(latest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

Luo Binghe is Born

Su Xiyan Dies

(earliest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

--IAC--

-11 YR

NYY: 2-3, LBH: 3, MF: 5, LQG: 20-21, SQH: 20-22, SQQ: 22, YQY: 25

(earliest***) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-9 YR

NYY: 4-5, LBH: 5, MF: 7, LQG: 22-23, SQH: 22-24, SQQ: 24, YQY: 27

--IAC--

-8 YR

NYY: 5-6, LBH: 6, MF: 8, LQG: 23-24, SQH: 23-25, SQQ: 25, YQY: 28

(latest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest***) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-5 YR

NYY: 8-9, LBH: 9, MF: 11, LQG: 27-28, SQH: 27-29, SQQ: 29, YQY: 32

--IAC--

(latest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

(latest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

(latest) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-4 YR

NYY: 9-10, LBH: 10, MF: 12, LQG: 28-29, SQH: 28-30, SQQ: 30, YQY: 33

Luo Binghe's adoptive mother dies

(earliest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-3 YR

NYY: 10-11, LBH: 11, MF: 13, LQG: 29-30, SQH: 29-31, SQQ: 31, YQY: 34

(latest****) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

(latest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

-2 YR

NYY: 11-12, LBH: 12, MF: 14, LQG: 30-31, SQH: 30-32, SQQ: 32, YQY: 35

(latest*****) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-1 YR

NYY: 12-13, LBH: 13, MF: 15

--IAC--

Year 0

NYY: 13-14, LBH: 14, MF: 16

SVSSS Begins

-----

This timeline operates under the following conditions. For some of these conditions, alternatives are discussed in the post above-- if you wish to use any of the alternative calculations, then you're more than welcome to adjust the timeline as applicable for your own use!

"Years" are counted from the first day of the spring festival/Chinese new year, rather than January 1

All character ages are nominal ages, so they were born in the year they are counted as age "1"

Luo Binghe was born after the new year, and so his nominal age is only about one year higher than chronological.

Shang Qinghua met Mobei-jun before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain

The system's time limit for SQH does reference the time of the Qing generation's ascension

The Immortal Alliance Conference takes place roughly in the middle of the year. Based on the fact that it is warm enough for the disciples to dip their feet into a stream and find that pleasant, it would make sense for the IAC to occur in a warmer season (Ch. 4)

Further References and Footnotes:

*Yue Qi was in the Lingxi Caves for more than one year and Qiu Manor had already been destroyed by the time he got out (Ch. 21)

**The birth of Luo Binghe occured a few days after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain. Depending on when LBH was born, it could be at the end of year -13 or the first few days of year -12 (Ch. 21)

***We do not know the earliest a child can join Cang Qiong Mountain, even though the appropriate age for cultivation most likely cuts off somewhere around 15 (due to YQY joining at that age and no comments about him being "too old"). For the purposes of this timeline, I am setting the absolute youngest to age 5, but more realistically a disciple wouldn't join until age 8-10 at the earliest.

****It is unknown whether the only time that disciples can join Cang Qiong Mountain is during the recruitment trials. Therefore, there remains a possibility for Ning Yingying to have joined the sect in the same year as Luo Binghe, but at some point before the recruitment trials due to connections. This can potentially be supported by Shen Jiu joining after the IAC, but at the same time, it is not confirmed that SJ joined CQM immediately, or if he had to wait until the next recruitment trial, so there is no clear canon precedent-- nonetheless, it is still possible. Note that Ning Yingying can only join at this late point if Luo Binghe joins at age 11, and after her. The only hard requirement is that NYY joined at some point before LBH.

*****I have placed this as the absolute latest time SQQ could have formed a golden core because this puts him at having been cultivating for sixteen years. It is a bit of a stretch already , but I don't think that "ten and a few" years could really be any longer than this. It is also worth noting that by the time SQQ reaches core formation, every other peak lord has already done so, with Yue Qingyuan first, Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi next, and Shang Qinghua most likely last (Ch. 24)

Please let me know if you notice any errors in calculation, formatting, or missing details! This was quite substantial so there's a good chance I may have missed something.

Some of the points in this analysis and timeline calculations were brainstormed with the help of @zykamiliah , @cum-villain , @furbygoblinxiv . Many thanks!

#svsss #canon examined #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #svsss timeline #resource

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pedal-writes · 7 months

Text

Lloyd garmadon hcs (romantic & reg hcs)

A/N: This is first post on here 😭 I’m super into ninjago right now so I might as well write abt it. And Lloyd is super pookie bear 🫶

Romantic:

-When you guys first start dating, Lloyd is a bit distant and awkward since A. He’s never been in a legitimate relationship before and B. He has insane trauma from Harumi.

-But over time, he’ll start to warm up to you and he falls so hard.

-Loves to read comics with you, it’s such a guilty pleasure (and he’s a big nerd.)

-When he’s with you, he’s always holding your hand or resting his hand on your lower back. He’s pretty protective for a lot of reasons lol.

-Very prone to venting to you.

-Every once in awhile, he takes you out in ninjago city for a date on a rooftop of a building. It’s not the best place for a date but he’s not much of a romantic 🤷‍♀️

-Always takes care of you when you’re sick. He makes soup and tea for you, and sits by your side, holding your hand while talking about whatever.

-He’s such a cuddle bug!! He loves laying on your chest while you tangle your fingers in his hair. And vice versa.

-Loves to kiss you on your face, esp your cheek and your nose. Seeing your face get all blushy after he surprises you with a kiss really makes him happy.

-Feels a little self conscious around you about certain things, like his dad or his oni form since they’re kind of touchy subjects. But a little reassurance from you will help his self esteem a ton.

-he likes it when you braid his hair or play with it in any way,

-if you’re up to it, lloyd loves training with you. Even if he always manages to beat your ass accidentally 😭

-When you two are together, Kai will do EVERYTHING in his willpower to embarrass Lloyd for funsies.

-One time, he totally showed you a picture of when Lloyd was little and that atrocious bowl cut. Let’s just say Kai was locked out of the monastery for a good 3 days 😁

-He would most definitely call you nicknames like “baby” or a shorter version of your full name

-He try’s keeps it simple bc he doesn’t want to be like one of those cringy “pookie bear” couples lmao

-Misako and Wu would definitely love you immediately after Lloyd introduces you (more so misako), no questions asked.

-(based on a rewrite of crystalized I’m writing soon 🫶) Garmadon though? It depends. If you get to know him a bit better, then he’ll probably warm up to you. He’s just a bit weary because of the whole harumi thing.

-Kinda same with the Ninja honestly, but they’ll warm up to you super quick when they see how you treat lloyd and how happy you make him. They just want the best for him is all.

General:

-Lloyd really values his hair, like a ton. He takes super good care of it. And I really like to think after the events of crystalized, he started to actually grow his hair out.

-And by the time of dragons rising, his hair is all the way down to his lower back (he puts it in a low ponytail most of the time for combat reasons.)

-He’s both Japanese and Chinese!

-demiromantic/sexual and omnisexual!!

-Looked up to Nya as a mother figure when he was little, and still does. He loves misako but resents her deep down.

-Has a little stubble in DR, kinda canon but whatevs.

-Has a pretty good singing voice, but only really does it in private.

-Outside of his Gi, the clothes he usually wears is just a jacket, a t-shirt and jeans 😭 he has like 15 jackets in his closet (he’s just like me fr)

-Has scars like all over his body, and some on his face from like the millions of battles he’s been in.

-He’s a little chubby, but has pretty muscular arms (🤭)

-Lloyd has like small non-human features that nod to the fact that he’s half oni and dragon.

-Like pointy ears, sharp teeth, and slitted pupils.

-Sometimes when he’s in his feels, probably around crystalized, he feels as if he wants to abandon his role as the green ninja and live a simpler life. Anakin skywalker core tbh.

-Still has an adoration for candy.

-Every once in awhile, he still heads to Ninjago Doomsday Comix to buy a new issue of a comic he likes.

-He would probably enjoy music like Radiohead. He’s THE boy loser ever.

A/N: I can’t think of much else but I hope you guys enjoyed these!! I’ll write at my own pace for a little bit and then I’ll open requests. I gotta make a carrd sometime soon lmfao 😭

( @weirdotaku1000 these are the hcs I was working on!!)

#y’all have no clue how much excited I am rn 😭#I’ve had this blog for like 2 years and haven’t posted a damn thing other than the intro which was 10 MONTHS AGO #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon x reader #lego ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago x reader

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revehae · 3 months

Note

(It’s a long one but I hope you read it ah)

i don’t know If you’re not taking requests atm then ignore this but it’s more so a little reminder ? I don’t really know 😭 but awhile ago you wrote a drabble someone requested and it was a jaemin, haechan, jeno, mark, and jisung x reader ? It was a noncon gangbang fic and they were all holding reader down and I think it was Jaemin who was going first and was going to go anal and all the other guys were egging him on waiting for their turns.

I always wanted a continuation / longer version but now I just want it back it was one of my favs 😭 I don’t think you have it saved cuz it wasn’t like a oneshot or anything but if you are able to find it please post it or even if you can rewrite it please when you find the time do I love your writing so so much sorry for the long ramble ah

tw // noncon, gangbanging, anal it was jeno not jaemin lol but yes i still have it. the “five guys doing some serious damage to my guts rn” “6 when i get there” drabble

you tried your best, you really did, but you were unfathomably outnumbered. unfairly. it was enough attempting to rival jeno’s infinite strength, but you didn’t stand a chance against five guys.

especially not when they were all holding you onto the mattress, restricting you with a might you’d never be able to mirror even if you trained for literal war. mark and jisung had a grip on your legs and jaemin kept your hands pinned to your chest, while haechan had a palm pressed squarely to your mouth.

and jeno, unsurprisingly, stood between your forcibly parted legs, palming his rigid cock to the erotic sight unfolding before him. your panties were torn (mark’s doing, if you recalled correctly), exposing your cunt, and jaemin had harshly tugged your bra to pinch your stiff nipples.

a downpour of fresh, damp tears were hot against your flushed cheeks, gathering thickly at your lashes. jeno liked how you, unbroken, still flailed and thrashed in their arms, in spite of the glaringly obvious fact that you were no match for the five of them together.

you squealed into haechan’s gloved palm, your probably unkind words of protest muffled into an empty oblivion as jeno’s cock teased your holes, deciding which one he’d use.

“take her ass,” haechan told him, snickering when you glimpsed up at him in a mixture of shock and unadulterated anger for the suggestion.

“her ass, huh?” jeno hummed, slowly dragging his cock below your exposed pussy.

“do it,” jisung encouraged from his left like a little devil on his shoulder.

jeno snickered. glancing up at you, he grinned slyly and said, “guess i’m fucking your ass, baby.”

you shook your head vigorously, aggressively expressing your lack of consent, but your indistinct sounds meant nothing to them and your thrashing was pointless if there was nowhere for you to run.

jeno sinked into your hole, a satisfied howl being yanked out of him as he did, impaling you deeper and deeper on his girthy cock. it’s too thick for your unprepped hole, but jeno didn’t seem to care, and neither did any of his buddies.

“fuck,” jeno hissed in delight, wasting no time to start rutting into you at a steady rhythm.

jaemin laughs at the expression on his friend’s face, patiently anticipating his own turn to use you as he pleased. it was going to be a long night for you. “it’s good?”

“fuck yeah,” jeno grunted, pushing deep, forcing himself as far inside as he could possibly fit. the pain was too unbearable for you to stay still, writhing and sobbing, but jeno was too blissed out to pay any mind to your tears.

your asshole tensed around his dick, gripping and tugging him in, and the longer jeno was exposed to the tightening sensation, the more animalistic his thrusts became. and the louder your screams grew against haechan’s covered hand, coated in your hot tears.

haechan smacked your cheek. “shut up,” he said lowly, growling. “shut up before i put that mouth of yours to better use.”

you closed your eyes, trying to isolate yourself from the brutal reality, hopeful that maybe you’ll forget the feeling of their fingers bruising your limbs from how tightly they held them and jeno relentlessly abusing your hole.

#🐿️ anon #nct smut #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #lee jeno smut #park jisung smut #mark lee smut #na jaemin smut

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heartsforvin · 3 months

Note

reader get a heated blanket as a gift, but vinnie doesn’t like it bc she doesn’t cuddle w him when she uses is bc it keeps her warm

WARM SNUGGLES

love this idea !! thank you for the request !!! <33

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; vinnie being jealous over a blanket 😭 bit of angst ??, mild argument, use of pet names, cussing

summary; one of your friends gifts you a heated blanket, but vinnie soon turns jealous, thinking it’s taking away time from him

recently you were gifted a heated blanket, and ever since, you use it every chance you get. chances like, using it while you and vinnie lay in bed together.

you’ve noticed his attitude change as well. you thought nothing of it, thinking he was stressed about something work related.

you tried reassuring him, say comforting words and giving him affection, but he just shrugged it off.

“vin, what’s wrong?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen of your shared apartment. “you’ve been a mood for a week now.”

silence fills the room for a moment. you both watch as hera jumps up on the counter, vinnie scratches behind her ear.

“nothing, im fine.” he replies shortly, grabbing the cat and walking into your guys’ room.

sighing, you let it go for now, not wanting to push his buttons.

you slowly walk into the room and smile at vinnie as you grab your blanket. you almost miss the eye roll he gives you.

“what’s that for?” you ask, tone stern as you try so hard to keep your emotions at bay.

vinnie looks at you, hera sat in his lap as he runs his hand along her back.

“ever since you got that fuckin’ thing you never snuggle with me anymore.” he admits, you chuckle a bit.

“i’m serious, it’s like that’s all you want to do — be wrapped up in that instead of in my arms.” vinnie says.

you frown, not realizing that was his issue this whole time. you find it a bit silly he’s jealous over a blanket, but can somewhat understand where he’s coming from.

sitting on the bed, you set the blanket on the ground and put your hand on vinnie’s thigh, rubbing your thumb against his skin gently.

“i’m sorry, my love,” you apologize, vinnie gives you a weak smile. “is that why you’ve been so grumpy?”

it was probably an obvious question but you asked anyways. vinnie didn’t reply right away, instead he grabbed your hand that laid on his leg and pulled you against him.

hera quickly scrambled off her dad’s lap so you can take her place. you laid your head on his chest, legs tangled together as vinnie ran his fingers through your hair.

“it’s stupid, i know,” the blonde sighed. “i’m sorry for snapping at you, you don’t deserve that, baby.”

missing your head, he continues to run his fingers through your hair. you reach down and grab the blanket from off the floor.

vinnie smirks and lets out a small laugh as you wrap the blanket around you both, turning it on to hear the two of you up.

he rubs your back, realizing that the blanket is actually pretty nice. hera jumps back up on the bed and joins the two of you.

“are you done being jealous over a blanket?” you ask as you see vinnie put his hands under the blanket to warm them.

he nods, a content smile on his face. “i’m really sorry for how i acted. it’s a blanket, i shouldn’t have reacted like that. it’s actually pretty comfy.” he apologized to you.

looking up at him, you softly kissed him and smiled against his lips. “i knew you’d like it, seems like hera does too.”

the two of you look over at the cat, her eyes closed as she purrs softly.

vinnie wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly. “i love you, sweetheart.”

you smile, nuzzling your face into vinnie’s chest. “i love you too, handsome.”

working on getting all my requests done !! also have another lil fic i’ve been working on for awhile that i’m excited to post !!

tags: @cosmicanakin , @lyndys , @slvthrs , @forevergirlposts , @st4rswrld , @laylasbunbunny , @hallecarey1 , @louloulemons-blog ‘ @leqonsluv3r , @supabhad , @kayleiggh , @visualbutterflysworld , @violet0182 , @lovingsturniolo

#vhackerr #vinniehacker #vincent hacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie x y/n #vinniehacker headcanons

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justsomegdude · 6 months

Text

Leader!Negan x Alexandria!Reader

Prompt: “You gotta stop doing that.” “What?” “Saying things that make me wanna kiss you.”

You were standing in your kitchen, while the saviors were looting Alexandria. This wasn’t their first visit. You were zoned out, deep in thought about what supplies you would lose, and how it will affect your community. You hadn’t even heard Negan enter until he was standing right in front of you, waving his hand in front of your face, gathering your attention.

It startled you, you slightly jumped as you looked up at him. His smirk present as he looked back at you. It already annoyed you that he smirked, while slowly breaking your community. You don’t like him, you never had. Not since your first interaction with him. Your mood ruined just by his presence.

“What made you so deep in thought, sweetheart?” His voice having the tone he always had. It irked you, being called something so peaceful by someone who is definitely not peaceful.

“How fun it would be to see you and your men crumble.” You spat out. Your gaze turning more into a glare. Although Negan doesn’t seem phased, since his smirk was still glued on his face.

“You gotta stop doing that.” Negan spoke, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip. He almost looked pleased with himself.

“What?” You were confused, you didn’t know if he was secretly angry, or if he was messing around. Your eyebrows stitched together; with bewilderment expressed through your features.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.” Now you were sure he was pleased with himself. He was messing around, and you weren’t sure how to react. His stare now lowered at your lips, he leaned against your island counter.

You were so ready to just smack him right then, right there. “Not interested.” You sneered back. Putting your hands into your pockets, your eyes remanded on his own.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it, Darling.” He let an amused breath escape his lips. He clearly enjoyed this, probably not the first time he’s ‘hit’ on someone in Alexandria, most likely not the last.

This irritated you, his goal was mostly likely to get under your skin. Make you think about him at times you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t think I want to try it, and do not call me darling.”

A/N: Still new to writing, I spent awhile and would enjoy feedback (maybe ideas for more posts?) but i hope you enjoyed!

#negan x reader #negan x male reader #negan smith x reader #twd negan #negan #the walking dead negan #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan #oneshot #negan x female reader #negan x you #negan imagine #jdm #jdmorgan #neganoneshot #neganxgnreader

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r0ttenhearts · 1 year

Text

Friends?

Scaramouche x Best friend! Reader

angst, no comfort, insults

a bright, summer afternoon. the blazing heat outside of the cooled windows as the cicadas hummed in the unforgiving warm air. but there you were, sitting on scaramouches bed next to him, tapping away at your handheld game as you talked to him. you two had been friends since the start of the previous school year. your sweet smiles and kind gestures moved him, or you hoped they did, as he spoke with you the most in class until it turned to after school study sessions, and eventually just hanging out at each others homes when school was over.

as cruel as scaramouche could be, you found yourself falling for him. the rare smiles he’d give you, or his kind words that were few and far between. it meant more to you than you expected. you figured you were cracking through his tough shell, as he didn’t seem to mind spending time together over the break. or so you thought.

“haypasia is back in town. i thought i’d go see her so i don’t think you can come over for awhile.”

oh right. haypasia. the very bane of your existence. it seemed like every time she was around, scara would leave you to be forgotten. a second thought. sure she knew scara for longer, but did she really know him like you did? no, of course she didn’t, because she was never around. but you were. scaramouche would complain to you about her obsessive antics, how annoying she was and how bothersome she could be, only for him to defend her if you got upset with him about spending too much time together.

“oh.. when will you go see her?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you feel that oh so familiar lump in your throat. scaramouche glances at you from above his screen, scoffing and a look of disbelief on his face. “seriously y/n? you’re still so upset about her? what’s your deal?”

you shake your head as you put down your game. your hair covering your face as you don’t face him. you can’t. if you do you’ll break, and you know it. “i just.. i wish you wouldn’t go away for days at a time when she’s around.. you’re my best friend you know? and it hurts to realize that you pick someone over me, someone that doesn’t even stay.” you confess, your hands starting to shake as you can feel his eyes bore into your shaking form.

you can hear him scoff beside you as he sits up, “best friends? we’re friends. actually, we’re hardly even friends because i barely even like you.

you dont shut the fuck up you never do.

you make up lies in your head cause you think i like you but you delusional-ly believe i wouldn’t ever talk to other people and god forbid it be a girl.

oh and you're gonna switch it around saying the reverse about how id care when we all know damn well you could get beat in an alleyway and the most you'd get out of me is a "sorry to hear that.”

he gives you the meanest glare as you stand up from his bed as he shoves you against his bedroom door. fat tears roll down your cheeks as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his dulled, purple eyes.

“no, tell me im wrong. tell me i dont know what im talking about. god youre so fucking stupid.”

he spits as he lets go of your chin, opening the door as you stumble out. he slams his door shut as you stand there in tears. you loved him? you loved him after he told you how he doesn’t care for you? how pathetic could you be. how could you care so deeply for someone that wouldn’t ever look at you, not even in a friendly way?

with his words ringing through your head, you gather your belongings as you leave his home. your game left forgotten on his bed, wishing to never return or face him again.

————————-

a/n: based on a very real argument with my best friend. a little self indulgent but this was a comfort post. thanks for reading!

part II:

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #kabukimono #scara x y/n #scara x reader #scara angst

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lowkeyremi · 1 year

Text

Haikyuu men as fathers :D

Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

FT. Hinata, Bokuto, Suna, and Kenma. (If you guys want other characters lmk, i'm just not in the mood to do a bunch rn)

SO I JUST READ LIKE THE CUTEST HAIKYUU FATHERHOOD ONE SHOT AND NOW I WANNA DO HAIKYUU CHARACTERS AS DADS, HEAD CANONS (More of the earlier stages of fatherhood, when they first experience it)

This is the first thing I've written on tumblr pls spare me...

Warnings: Indication of relationships and marriage and some angst (mentions of abortion) for a few characters (just put that there just in case) Enjoy lovelies <33

Also sorry for any typos or grammar errors. I'm too lazy to reread through it and check lol.

...

Hinata Shoyo:

He was quite surprised at the announcement of your pregnancy that he passed out

He was soooo excited none the less, being a father sounded pretty fun

He definitely started reading books to try to help him figure things out

He was a terrible diaper changer (like no fucking joke, I think he'd be scared to change another one), he'd seen you do it so many times but for some reason he could never avoid getting peed on

Would brag to everyone about how cute his little baby is, "My baby just got their first tooth, and they're learning how to crawl! They've also got the cutest little chubby cheeks."

If the baby looks like you he would literally talk about it all the time. "Beautiful, just like your mama."

He's had experience with babies because well... Natsu <3

He got the baby a matching jersey so you two could watch his games :)

Bokuto Kotaro:

After finding out you were pregnant he would tell EVERYBODY The two of you were walking together to get ramen and you guys walked into the restaurant and got seats. The waiter came to you two and asked what'd you like to drink. "Hey, guess what? My wife is pregnant! Isn't that amazing?! We're gonna have a baby!" You had to hide your face from embarrassment but the waiter just giggled, Bokuto is def a himbo, your himbo.

He enjoyed decorating the room for your baby

He would dead ass miss practice to go to your appointments for the baby

The first time he held your little bundle of joy he cried like a damn baby, he couldn't help it. It made him so happy that the two of you brought a life into the world.

He didn't let Kenma hold your child for awhile because he was scared he'd drop the baby :')

Very protective of your little one

He wanted the baby's first word to be "Volleyball" but it was "da da" which still made him very happy

Bo is very proud of the baby you two have created so I'm 100% sure he takes a bunch of himself with the baby to post on his social media

He was scared to change diapers but he soon got the hang of it

100% would get up in the middle of the night when the baby is crying, just to let you sleep. "The baby." You sigh loudly as you hear your little one cry over the baby monitor. "I'll go check on them. You get some rest." You turn your head to face him, "You sure?" He just smiled at you and kissed your temple. "100%"

Suna Rintaro: (ofwhuowghwoqrwq do i need to say anything else?)

He thought you were joking when you said you were pregnant (oops) "That's a good one." He turned his attention back to his phone. "Rin... I'm serious. Do you wanna see the ultrasound?"

A little more on the hesitant side. He didn't want to believe it, but you had the proof so like...

He was low key scared to fuck up, his father was not a very good father so he was scared to be the same way his father was.

He didn't even hold the baby for the first few months. "Rin, come on. You aren't your father. You have me to guide you through the process. Come hold our little one." He stalked up the stairs, "no."

After awhile you finally convinced him to have physical contact with the baby "The baby.. i-is smiling at me?" You giggle at him, "of course they're smiling at you. They love their daddy of course."

After he finally started being around the baby, you literally could not tear him away from that child.

Some days he'd take the baby to practice, to the grocery store, everywhere.

You had to pry the child from his arms most days. "Rin, give the baby here.." He looked at you like you just told him to give away his prized possession. "Hell no." You sighed. "Rin you have to go to work!" He shrugged his shoulders, "the baby can come with me, Komori enjoys taking pics of them during practice." Jeez.. this man truly is something.

Overall he was scared for nothing. He was a great father ;)

Somehow he convinced you to have another one... (weren't you the same one who didn't hold your baby for months?) he wanted to make up for the few firsts that he missed

Kozume Kenma: (oh Lord)

He asked "Are you sure it's mine?" (yeah... virtual slap rn)

He told you he wasn't ready and asked if you'd consider an abortion or adoption, it made you really sad but you realized Kenma wasn't ready

It really hurt him to hear you cry about giving up your child which made him wanna try for you

Did not know how to hold the baby for the life of him "Umm.. am I like- holding it right..?" You burst into laughter at the sight. "Ken, you gotta support their head." He looked down at his baby. "Oh..."

He decided that he needed to do research before he ventured further down the path of fatherhood.

Kenma was confused with diapers. "You... you want me to change its diaper?" You scoffed at him handing him a fresh diaper. "Our baby is not an 'it' Kenma!" He groaned as he took the diaper from you. "Why can't you change it?" You rolled your eyes as if it was obvious. "Because I won't always be there to do it myself, duh."

You were out with a friend one day which meant Kenma was on babysitting duty, he was tempted to call Kuro to come watch his child but he'd say something like, "Kenma, it's your responsibility as a father, blah blah blah.." So he and the baby just kind of sat there staring at each other. "What do you wanna do?" He asked the baby, knowing they can't talk. The baby proceeded to poke Kenma's cheek and yell out, "DA DA DA DA." Kenma thought it was cute and laughed softly. "Yep, that's me." The baby repeated saying 'da' for awhile until they tired themselves out. "You're a lot like me." That day it clicked, he finally understood what it was to be a father

He wasn't very affectionate but he tried to show his baby that he cared the best way he knew how

You saw the changes and it made you happy

You caught him cuddling the baby once, when you accused him of being affectionate he rolled his eyes half awake and said, "M'not being affectionate! Go awayyyy."

Doesn't want to admit to being soft for his baby :)

That's a wrap! If you want more characters lmk! I'd be happy to do a part two, this was fun for me :)

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hyunfilms · 8 months

Text

blue side of the sky (lmh) | eleven.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, a little look into mrs. pak and oc's relationship at work, mentions of cancer, flashbacks - one is just a random little moment with friends and the other is more oc x minho centered.., oc x san content, most of this is centered on oc's feelings 🥺

"So, are you seeing your friend today?" Mrs. Pak turns to you while you stand at the register, smiling as she puts a small bouquet together next to you.

"San?" She nods. "Yes. We're just going to eat and catch a movie."

"Sounds like a date?" You giggle.

"Nooo." You elongate your response. "We're just friends, Mrs. Pak."

"Have you guys hung out before?"

"Every now and then, we'd see each other for a meal or to walk around. Nothing too extravagant." You chuckle. "We talk almost everyday."

"That's sweet. Do you enjoy his company?"

"I do. He's very nice. I feel comfortable around him, and I feel like that's been hard for me post-accident." You look at her. It hasn't been long since you've started working with Mrs. Pak, but she was easy to confide in. You opened up to her about your accident, losing your mom and not remembering those details— losing every bit of you and not remembering things before the accident. You told her you felt like you were finally settling in in this world, this new chapter, new reality. It's been very difficult, but you were starting to feel comfortable and at ease.

The same thing goes for Mrs. Pak, as she's had help come and go in the shop. But, she's never felt so.. content and happy with your presence. You could simply walk into the room and Mrs. Pak feels like she'd never be alone. For awhile, she's felt alone— especially after she suddenly lost her husband to cancer.

But now, you're here and she feels better. Happier. More alive.

And she's not sure how you do it, but she is grateful. She is grateful you are helping, she is grateful you care. She is grateful you are here.

"That's good, no? It's important that you surround yourself around good people." You smile.

"Yeah. I agree."

"What if he likes you?" You raise a brow and shake your head with a small giggle. "I mean of course, you can always be friends. But, what if?"

"Then, I'm not so sure. He's very sweet. I just don't think—" You let out a breath. "I don't know—" Pause. "Maybe I'm not ready?" But, before you can follow up with an explanation, Mrs. Pak is jumping in.

"I don't think it's that, love. I think you'll be ready when the right time comes." She smiles. "I think you have your mind set on someone else." You blush.

"W-what? No."

"I can see it in those lovely eyes of yours, dear." She giggles as you look back down to your hands, remembering the time you've been spending with your friends, with Minho— times at the studio, his café, random kick-its in the city.

Most importantly, you think about how Minho started to feel more and more like your bestfriend. But lately, he's felt a little warmer, a little closer. He looks at you a little differently, keeps you close a little differently.

Like you are his bestfriend,

Like you remind him of love— a certain memory, probably a certain form of love.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | HANGING OUT AT THE FOODIELAND NIGHT MARKET A COUPLE OF NIGHTS AGO

"Dude, dude, dude!" Jisung excitedly calls out. "I need to try those garlic noodles with the lobster. Ooh, and the bungeoppang?!" Jisung starts to point in every direction. "Wait, the ramen burgers—"

"Can we just make our way around?" Seungmin pushes him aside.

"Why, do you plan on eating the entire night market?" Jisung tries to be sassy with his response.

"Yeah, maybe?" Seungmin snaps back, making Chan shakes his head.

"Okay, shut up. Let's just walk." Chan starts to lead the way by walking backwards. He shoots a smile at you before asking: "What about you though, Y/N? Anything catch your eye? We'll go there first."

"Hm, I'm not sure yet. I'm kinda down for whatever." You shrug a bit, tugging at the ends of your sweater sleeves while Minho stands next to you.

"Garlic noodles it is!" Jisung says with a little dance, causing Seungmin to smack him upside the head as the group starts to make their way over to the food booth.

"Are you okay? Are you cold?" Minho looks down at you with concern.

"A bit. I probably shouldn't have left my jacket in the car, huh?" You giggle and he nods.

"Have to say Jisung was right for that one." He does a slight head tilt before he's removing his zip up and placing it over your shoulders. "Better?"

"Oh, Minho. You don't have to, you're in a t-shirt—" He shrugs.

"It's okay, Y/N. I can live." He chuckles a bit. "It's not too bad for me. I'd rather you be comfortable than not." You slip your arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you." He smiles.

"Yeah." He continues to remain by your side as the group falls in line at the first food vendor. Jisung is venting about his coworker to Seungmin and Chan, his eyes subtly falling on Minho's jacket that you're currently wearing.

"You shouldn't have left your jacket in the car, cielo." Jisung does a slight pout. "Do you need me to run back and—"

"No, it's fine! Minho's will do." You look up at Minho and he nods in agreement.

"It's fine? Why stress?" Minho furrows his brows at him, making Jisung shrug.

"Okay then. Don't come crying to me when you get cold." He points at Minho.

"Why on earth why I do that? I wouldn't, even if you were the last person here."

"Good, I don't wanna help you anyway." Jisung spits back, making you roll your eyes and shove him forward."

"Pachi, the line is moving." He inches forward with another shove from Chan.

"Why is everyone fucking pushing me today?!"

"Because we can literally lose our spot in line!" Chan says with a low groan. "I knew this was gonna be a headache." He continues to go on while him, Seungmin and Jisung stand in front of you and Minho. The line continues to move until your group is at the front, with Chan offering to pay for everyone to make it easier.

Afterwards, the group decides to make their way around to get drinks and dessert— you opting for some sugarcane juice and bungeoppang that you'll share. You slide yourself onto the top of the picnic table, with Minho standing next to you; Jisung, Chan and Seungmin occupying the rest of the space on your opposite side.

"This was really good." You set aside the noodles and sip on your juice.

"See, what'd I tell you?" Jisung smiles. "So good. I think I'm gonna go around some more."

"For what?" Seungmin asks.

"I wanna try some other stuff." Jisung stands. "Anybody wanna come?"

"I'll go." Seungmin joins him.

"Pass." Chan adds. "I'm actually going to check out that booth really quickly." He points at one of the retail vendors, stretching as he stands and gets ready to head over.

"I'm good." You say with a small smile.

"Same." Minho says before sipping on his drink.

"Party poopers." Jisung says. "Cielo, text me if you want something else." You nod, watching as they turn and start to walk back towards the food booths, Chan already at the retail booth he was eyeing.

"You sure you don't want anything else?" You shake your head and raise the bungeoppang up to Minho.

"No, this will do me some good. Split this with me?" He nods, taking the bungeoppang as he sits next to you and makes an even split down the middle. You smile as he hands you your piece, gobbling it up quicker than expected. Minho smiles just as you finish up, wiping your hands on the napkin by the table. You miss some crumbs at the corner of your mouth, and he's suddenly having to force himself to not reach. Though, it feels like the worst internal battle and he knows he's going to lose this one the moment you look back up at him. "W-what?" You look at Minho staring at you, confused. He smiles and laughs a bit before he takes his thumb to the corner of your lip and wipes away at the lingering crumbs. You watch, blushing as he takes his thumb away and wipes it on his napkin. "Oh."

"All good."

"You sure?" You ask and he chuckles.

"I think so." He tilts his head to the side to quickly scan the other corner of your mouth. "Yeah, you're good."

"Thank you." You smile toothlessly at him and he wants to scream. God, you're so cute. Why was he such a fucking dumbass? "You're taking care of me a lot tonight."

"I'm happy to."

☁︎ END

You look down at your hands, unsure of what to say. Because Mrs. Pak is probably right— no, she is. You're just not sure what it means for you, or him.

He is your bestfriend.

Why do you feel much more for him?

Why do you feel connected at a much, much deeper level?

Too attached, almost.

"I hope you know that it's totally okay. But maybe, it's something you'll need to confront earlier than later. To keep your friendship with San?"

"You're right." You tell her with a small, pursed smile. "If it comes up tonight, I'll just.. be honest with him."

"It's the only way to do it, hun." You nod in agreement before shifting your attention to the couple that just walked in.

The rest of your shift goes by rather quickly, with you cleaning around the shop and helping make one last bouquet before San strolls in. He has a huge smile on his face, waving to you just as he makes his way closer.

"San, hey." You giggle as he makes it to the counter, eyeing the single roses off to the side.

"Hey! Sorry, am I bit early?" You shake your head as you wrap up the bouquet you were working on.

"No, I'm just finishing this up!" At this point, Mrs. Pak comes out from the back of the shop after rearranging the pre-ordered bouquets for tomorrow.

"Hi." She smiles at him. "You must be San."

"And you must be Mrs. Pak." He reciprocates the smile and shakes her hand. "I've heard a lot about you! Good things."

"Oh, good. I'd hope so."

"Is it okay if I steal Y/N away for the remainder of the evening?"

"Of course." She winks at you as you undo your apron and hang it on the rack behind the counter. "Please keep her safe."

"Absolutely." He says. "It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Pak. I hope to see you more often."

"Likewise." You bid your goodbye to Mrs. Pak, ensuring she'd be okay to close up before leaving. You throw your jacket on as you walk out of the shop, following San out onto the street— the sun heavily beaming down, giving its last burst of energy before it slowly sinks below the horizon. You quickly glance over at Sunday Morning, then shift your attention to San. "How was work today?" He asks as he leads you down to the main street.

"It was good! A bit busy, but nothing too bad." You continue to look up at him as he walks alongside of you. "What'd you do today, Sannie?"

"Hm, I worked out this morning, did some groceries and cleaned my apartment."

"Sounds like another good, productive day."

"It was. I like it when my days are good and productive." You laugh.

"So, where are we going first?"

"Well, I thought we should try out this place a few blocks down that is popular for their unagi." He smiles. "Hm, then there's Peace Piece nearby that has some good pies. I really like their drinks too."

"That sounds yummy."

"Yeah?" He laughs. "Good to know. Hopefully it'll be Y/N approved once we eat." You giggle and nod, reassuring him that you'll find any place he takes you to delicious. The walk is nice at this time of day, some streets busier than others, but it's nice. It's not long until you get to the restaurant, where San has already made a reservation to avoid the long wait. You're immediately seated in the far corner of the restaurant next to the windows, with San pulling out your chair first before settling himself in. They serve water and tea while the both of you skim through the menu, with San voicing out his recommendations and what he thinks would be good to order.

At this point, you're hungry and you agree to his plan. Everything on the menu looks amazing, and you trust San's taste.

You spend some time talking about your days and how things have been, and San has been unloading some of his work drama while you eat away. He talks about how he wants to travel again soon, but this time with JJ and their friends— whenever they all are ready and can align on schedules. Which, turns the conversation to his time away and how scary it was for him at first. San has always openly talked about being away and how different it was, but he's never really had a chance to touch up on his feelings about the entire thing. You're glad he's comfortable confiding in you, because you feel the same way. You feel like you could be honest with San, and you genuinely find a true friend in him.

As promised, he takes you to Peace Piece after since there's time to kill before the next plan. The both of you share a big, hefty slice of banana cream pie to top everything off. Afterwards, San takes you to the movies since this is the only weekend they're holding a special Studio Ghibli event. Surprisingly, you don't run into anyone you know being that the theater is located in a popular plaza.

At least to your knowledge.

Too bad Minho was around with some friends, and he does catch you with San— even though you're a good couple of feet away from him. He sees you holding onto San's arm, the two of you engaging in a lively conversation that has you laughing and smiling at him on your walk over to the movies.

And his heart breaks.

No wonder you hadn't been so responsive today. Maybe you really did like San, and Minho needed to accept it. Because he's been unfair to you before, and he'd hate to do that again. You deserved to be happy; whatever that happiness looked like to you.

He would never get in the way of that.

"Dude let's just go to the restaurant down the street, I'm hungry." Hyunjin says to one of their other friends, beginning to lead the way. "—Coming or what?" Minho barely catches onto his last question because he's too focused on watching you and San walk into the theater. It pulls him out of his thoughts enough to respond with a silent nod and a pursed smile.

Long fucking night ahead for him.

San bought two tickets for Spirited Away, selecting seats in the middle section of the theater. You plop onto the comfy, recliner chair, watching as San props his feet up and also gets comfortable. He leans over to ask if you want anything to snack on, but you tell him you'll pass as you're still feeling stuffed from dinner and dessert. Shortly after, the theater fills up and the movie is off to a start.

You're enjoying the movie so much that you miss the way San glances over at you from time to time, softly smiling at the way your eyes light up at every scene, how you're so focused and full of curiosity. Your hand rests on the middle console and San feels like such a silly little boy for even having the thought, but he acts on it anyway— resting his hand on the console right next to yours, hand slightly twitching, aching, to pull yours into his.

You don't really notice it though, at least not right now. The movie brings these small bits and feelings of nostalgia, and suddenly, you miss your friends.

Minho.

Not that San was bad company, but you kinda wish he was around.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you feel San's hand brush over yours. You look at him and he politely asks for permission through his eyes. You give him a tiny smile and he proceeds to lace his fingers with yours. His hand is warm, and it doesn't make you uncomfortable. It feels nice, but it also doesn't feel right.

In a way where you think your hand belongs in someone else's, how your fingers are meant to be laced with another's.

Warmth felt from another's hand.

San holds your hand for the rest of the movie, even as you walk out of the theater and out to the car. He opens your door like the true gentleman he is before hopping in his seat and driving off to another location. He mentions the small beach near your house and you nod, going along with his plans since he's been great the entire night. You like spending time with San, there's no question about it.

But, you know why he wants to take you to the beach.

You know why he has that look in his eyes, you know why he looks at you the way he does.

You have to be honest, it's the only way.

Arriving at the beach, there's only a few cars parked in the lot with people walking along the sand or sitting to watch the waves under the night sky. San puts the car in park, but he doesn't get out. The car is still on, just to have the soft music playing in the background.

Thank god, it can at least fill the void when you tell him the truth.

You are nervous.

"It's so pretty tonight. The sky is so clear."

"I know, isn't it?" You lean forward to get a better view of the moon, and the way its light hits the surface of the water. "I don't remember if I used to come here often, but I hope I did. It's perfect."

"I'm sure. There's no way you'd let the opportunity pass." You both chuckle. "I.. actually wanted to talk to you about something. I figured this would be the perfect setting for it, especially before ending the night." He settles into the driver's seat before looking at you. "I honestly don't even think it's a secret anymore, but it doesn't even matter." He says with another nervous chuckle. "I wanted you to know that my feelings for you have grown." He looks at you, genuinely and truly looks at you. And it breaks your heart that you don't feel the same, that you can't be this person for San even though part of you kinda wishes you could be. "I can understand if you're not ready or anything, I don't want to rush you. But, in the amount of time we've gotten to get to know each other and hang out, I've come to care for you. A lot. We get along really well, and it's been awhile since I've felt this way with someone. Since I've felt so comfortable. And, this might sound like a stupid line but I really think you're perfect. I mean that. "

"San." You say in a gentle tone as you grab his hand and caress the top with your thumb. "You're seriously the sweetest. It's really flattering to hear that, and I'm really glad I can make you feel comfortable and everything. I really am happy that you were able to open up to me." You let out a small, shaky breath before subtly biting your lip and fiddling with your fingers. You gain more courage to look at him again, eyes wide and full of worry. But, the longer you take to respond fully, the more he begins to understand, the more he knows where this is going—

And he should've prepared for it. He should've expected it. But, it still stings a bit.

You will always be his.

You will always be Minho's.

"I—" You start but San shakes his head. "I just don't want to ruin what we built. You know? As friends. I really am grateful we've gotten close."

"You don't have to explain, Y/N." He gives off a small laugh.

"No, but, I'm just afraid. I'm.. not sure I can be the person you need me to be, San. You're amazing, you're good at everything, you're incredibly sweet—" You sigh. "I'm re-learning how to exist and I don't even know where things will take me." Truthfully, you didn't think he would be able to understand you, understand this— all of you. And you didn't want to be that pressure for him, that time-consuming, that much of a responsibility.

Because you know you will be.

"I understand." He says with a soft smile. "But, you are doing great, Y/N. Don't ever discredit yourself. You've gone through a lot and you haven't given up. Plus, look at you. You're getting back into the things that you love."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. I really am." You say, close to a whisper. "I wish I could be that person for you, but I'm still trying to figure myself out. You deserve someone who can give you their all and be present with you throughout everything and anything. I'm so sorry." You repeat.

"Don't be." He lifts your chin with his finger and gives off a tiny chuckle. "Don't be, okay?" He repeats. "I promise you everything is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." You give him a reassuring, toothless smile. "But, Y/N?"

"Hm?" You hum.

"You should tell him." You furrow your brows at him with a slight head tilt.

"But—"

"I can just tell." He chuckles a bit before starting the car. "I'm sure he wants to talk to you about it, too."

☁︎ FLASHBACK | THE OTHER EVENING

"Hi." You race to your phone in the kitchen after showering and getting ready for bed, noticing it's Minho on the other end.

"Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to bother." You chuckle.

"I'm just at home, Minho. You're not a bother at all. Are you okay?" He sighs and nods, even though you can't see him.

"Yeah, kinda. I'm just really tired. I wanted to drop by and hang out with you for a bit, but I can barely keep my eyes open." You look at the clock and notice how it's barely 10pm. Minho must be exhausted lately.

"It's okay. You can always swing by on other days." You plop onto your bed after shutting off your lights, though you opt to keep your christmas lights on even as you settle under the sheets.

"Yeah." You can hear him yawn a bit before shuffling in his bed. "How was your day?"

"It was alright. I just went to the pottery studio before my shift at the shop."

"Cute. What did you make today?"

"I attempted to make a Kirby planter for my succulents." You chuckle. "Keyword is attempted. I hope it turns out okay because I need to re-pot my succulents soon."

"I'm sure it'll turn out great." He smiles a bit.

"Did you have a busy day?"

"Very."

"Why don't you sleep?" You softly ask him as you lay on your side, exhaustion slowly hitting you as well.

"Mm, I wanted to hear your voice." He responds. "I didn't get to see you so I— I thought I could at least call you and talk to you." You giggle.

"But, you're tired. Are you sure that's it?" Minho thinks about your question because no, that's not it. Not at all. He wants to tell you how much he misses you, and how much he's been thinking about you. How he wishes he can hold you and kiss your cheek, your hand. How he always gets butterflies when he sees you because he likes you—

No, loves you.

Because he does love you.

He fucked up.

He loves you.

"Minho?" You call out for him. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"I thought you fell asleep."

"No. I was thinking about something."

"Like what?"

"Stuff." You chuckle.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about anything."

"I know. I just.. nevermind." He sighs and shuts his eyes. "I need to sort out my thoughts first, that's all."

"Hm." You hum. "Okay." It's obvious Minho is holding back from whatever he needs to say, but you will never force him until he's ready to.

"You might hate me for it." He suddenly says, close to a whisper.

"Why would I ever do that? There's nothing wrong with sorting through your feelings." You say in a way that's so innocent and so.. caring, that his heart does flips in his chest. It aches. "I couldn't hate you even if I tried." It's this statement that makes Minho's heart officially crumble into pieces because even though it's reassuring to hear—

He knows there is a possibility you will.

"I don't know." He chuckles a bit. "I'm just tired I guess, I'm kinda going off the rails now."

"Go to sleep soon. I'll sleep too."

"Okay." He pauses. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" He pauses again. You patiently wait on the other end even as your eyes shut.

"I—" He lets out a breath. "I hope you rest well." He deflects.

"I hope you do, too. Will I see you this week?"

"You will."

"Try not to think about it too much now, okay? I don't want you to go to bed upset." You sleepily say.

"Hm." Minho hums. "I'll try to."

☁︎ END

⇢ 11.5 [cloud days]: here

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