#this is the only thing ill say about that stupid scene

[bluem1lls]

HEAR ME OUT!!!! se-mi with comphet reader (angst) 😈😈😈

✧₊⁺ you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: you're so used to this perfect life. your career and your boyfriend. and it's miserable but is comfortable as it can be. until you met her, and now you'll have to spend the rest of your life waking up to be nothing more than his girlfriend, thinking about her saying "i told you so".

content: angst, comphet! reader, se-mi falls for thano's 'straight' girlfriend

authors note: thank you for the request! clearly inspired by good luck babe by chappell roan because i love to suffer jsjdfkfkj, i hope you like it! im sorry ive been posting more short stuff, the week is vvv rough on me with work but ill do everything i can to not stop posting! even if its a small work

✧₊⁺ your boyfriend was acting weird. i mean, he's a man. the first thing that came to mind was 'he's cheating'

✧₊⁺ if the bastard was cheating you would kill him. it was enough that he used both of your savings to place them in bitcoin, and of course.. lost it all.

✧₊⁺ and you forgave him about that (kinda) but cheating? yeah no. you didn't wanted to be like one of those actresses with a cheating boyfriend everyone knew about.

✧₊⁺ so when you decided to follow him a random night and a man invited you to play a game, you were all against it.

✧₊⁺ you were a prestigious actress for god's sakes.

✧₊⁺ "oh. i thought you wanted to know where your boyfriend was heading?"

your eyes widen. what was this? some hooker shit? a betting house?

fine. you needed to find out where he is.

✧₊⁺ of course you ended joining the game to see where your boyfriend was. you dumbass.

✧₊⁺ waking up in a room full of strangers, was sure an.. experience.

✧₊⁺ confused, you stood up. where was your stupid boyfriend and why was he here?

✧₊⁺ "thanos?" i called him, scared. "baby?"

✧₊⁺ as you saw a group of people gathering around a very familiar voice, your fear turned into anger. you ran, pushing everyone sorrounding him.

✧₊⁺ "are you kidding me? this is where you got in? you fucking idiot" i hit his arm as he stared wide eyed at me.

"b-baby what are you doing here?" he chuckled nervous. "you should go home, this is not safe-"

"i wish! but you know, i was following you thinking you were cheating but what the fuck is this? did you lost more money? why are you here-"

"well, i came to win back the money we lost, dont worry baby. when i win this we'll be free!"

i can't believe this.

✧₊⁺ as you turned around to fumble alone, a girl touched your shoulder.

"oh my god, you're the actress on my favorite tv show! can i get a picture"

oh god. here too?

with the best fake smile, you nodded, and suddenly, the same crowd that was sorrounding thanos was now admiring you.

✧₊⁺ there was no doubt that after the first game you wanted to kill him.

"we die!? you brought us to a place where we fucking die if we dont pass the games!?" i screamed at him

"chill baby... youre making a scene. remember that people are watching"

"well, who cares? theyre probably going to die in like two days! just like us you idiot"

✧₊⁺ but just like that you kept playing with your... lovely boyfriend. and his new best friend apparently. god you needed a girl in here. you missed your girlfriends.

so indeed, your boyfriend got you a girl.

✧₊⁺ "i got you a friend so you can stop being... so angry all the time. enjoy life babe, this is a one time experience"

the second game was about to start, we needed two people more in our group.

i was about to punch him as i looked at her.

oh.

✧₊⁺ "hi..i'm-" hello? why was my brain shutting down?

"i know. i think everyone here knows apparently" she plays with her piercing lip, smiling.

✧₊⁺ that made you so nervous???? she got you smiling and twirling your hair??

oh you haven't felt like this in.. so long.

✧₊⁺ so yeah, with every game and her being the only girl (besides you) in the group, you two got close.

like.. way too close.

✧₊⁺ holding hands, protecting eachother, laughing together. you spent more time with her than with your own boyfriend.

✧₊⁺ in your defense, every single minute with her felt... like something you never experienced with him.

✧₊⁺ "why are you still with thanos if you think he's stupid?" she said, rolling her eyes and manspreading besides me, while i kept complaining about my boyfriend.

"he's nice.. he really is"

"you hate him, i dont think is normal to hate your boyfriend you know?"

✧₊⁺ you knew. but what else can you do?

you told her. she knew all abouth how your parents raise you to be this perfect actress, with her perfect husband.

and you already let them down with the 'perfect husband'. you can't disappoint them again.

✧₊⁺ so when her touch made you sigh, when she caressed your hair as you stared into her eyes, when she held your hand to feel you close in every game, trying to protect you more than your boyfriend ever did, or when she whispered sweet nothing's to your ear, making you shiver, all you could do was ignore it.

✧₊⁺ of course, when she realized that it was stupid and you weren't actually going to leave your boyfriend and your perfect life for her, she gave up, looking for something (or someone) that could make her feel better.

✧₊⁺ please, she was hot. she didn't need you.

✧₊⁺ she would never admit that in every girl she kissed after that, she was picturing you.

the way she would be biting your soft pouty lips, how she'd show you your boyfriend was nothing against her. she'd kiss you until you were out of breath, her hands roaming through your body, grabbing your waist, your hips.

she bit her lip as she kept picturing your hands wrapped around her neck, going down her back up and down.

✧₊⁺ she was so down bad it was making her stupid.

she had to do something about this stupid.. crush.

✧₊⁺ so was it a surprise when you found her making out with a random girl in the bathroom? not really.

but was it a surprise when she stared right to your eyes while she did it? i mean.. a little.

✧₊⁺ you scoffed, washing your hands.

"that's disgusting. there are bathroom stalls for that" i said to both.

as the girl turned around, se-mi asked her to leave, saying that 'she'd take care of her later'. ew.

✧₊⁺ she turned around, pissed. yeah, maybe you can get in her head for hours and hours, but ruining her makeout session? you were out of limit.

✧₊⁺ "listen princess-"

"don't call me princess after you made out with a random " i mumble, bitter. "and don't scream at me pretending like you hate me"

her eyes filled with anger.

"listen to me, you can fake being this perfect actress with your boyfriend and everyone else" she said, pushing me against the wall, one of her arms on top of my head, trapping me there. "but not with me. you think i dont see your little lustful eyes? the way you stare at me how i bet you never stared at your boyfriend?"

"b-bullsh-"

"yeah. whatever" she scoffed. "lie to yourself if you want, go fuck the entire common room to prove yourself that you're this pretty straight princess that your parents want you to be, but don't play with me" with every word she said, she got closer to me. our heated bodies breathing almost in sync.

"tell me im lying princess. tell me that if i" she grabbed my chin, softly caressing her lips with mine. my body shivering as my hand grabs her bicep, my nails clawing there, leaving 'c' marks, to ground myself. "do this, you dont feel a thing. c'mon. stop me, pretty girl. tell me you shouldn't" she whispered against my mouth.

✧₊⁺ but the truth is that you couldn't move. you couldn't back away, but you couldn't do this to thanos, to your parents. it wasn't fair.

dad? he had all the contacts he wanted. he would destroy your career in seconds. mom? would never let you step your own house again. oh and your boyfriend? would clearly ruin you on the internet. probably leaking everything about you in seconds. your own fans? people are not as open as we expect them to be.

you can't do this. you can't let yourself have this.

✧₊⁺ "im sorry se-mi" a tear fell, almost wetting her face too because of how close we were.

her eyes shut close. she mumbled something under her breath as she quickly stepped away, breaking whatever moment we had going in.

"i dont want you close to me again" she said, turning to leave as i rushed to follow.

"please, a-at least let me have you as a friend se-mi please" i begged her. tears couldn't stop falling to my cheeks.

"i can't" she said, turning to face me. her eyes roaming my features with a hint of guilt and sadness. "how can i be your friend when i'm so.." she stops, pressing her lips together. "i-i picture you in every girl i kiss. i can't be your friend.

i bit my lip as i hug her. she stiffens but slowly lets herself go, hugging me back. her hand on my hair, softly caressing it for comfort.

"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy..with me..i'll be waiting. i promise" she whispers in my ear, kissing my temple.

✧₊⁺ so it goes. after the next game, the nerves make everyone vote to leave and just like that you're actually out.

✧₊⁺ and althought you don't hear from her, you know she's still friends with your boyfriend.

and although she doesn't hear from you, she follows your life like she did. watching every episode of every single show you're in, following you on social media.

and although you guys never cross paths again, if you or your boyfriend ever invite her to 'the wedding', she will throw that invitation to the trash, where it belongs.

✧₊⁺ you miss her every night. mostly, when you wake up feeling cold against the person that's supposed to be your future. you're sure you love her.

and she misses you too. and she knows she loves you. that's why she never tries to contact you again.

✧₊⁺ because she loves watching you smile. even if its not because of her.

[starkeymeow]

content: rafe cameron x reader, fluff, angst, heavy inspo if not me shamefully imitating stefan & elenas scenes i fear LMFAO, secret relationship, past & future, time skip

authors note: guys omg my finals week is over n i get a month n a half break BLESS. but i still dont know if ill be totally active like i used to be. ill update u guys if that ever changes !!

main masterlist

your relationship with rafe had always been easy, natural in a way that almost felt inevitable. you’d known each other for years, if not all your life, your families orbiting each other like planets in the same solar system.

your parents met his dad in college, you think. all you knew was that every holiday, every long weekend, every summer, the camerons were there. sarah and wheezie were like sisters to you, and rafe . . . well, rafe had always been different.

you’d grown up side by side, bickering and teasing like it was second nature, but somewhere along the way, the dynamic shifted. you weren’t sure when it happened, only that it felt right. a few months ago, he kissed you for the first time, and it was like something clicked into place. since then, everything had been smooth sailing—well, as smooth as things could be when you were secretly dating your best friend.

you’d both decided to keep it quiet, at least for now. your families were too close, too intertwined, and the thought of all the questions, the teasing, the pressure . . . it was easier this way. for now, it was just yours, something special you didn’t have to share.

tonight was no different from the dozens of christmases before. your parents were hosting, the camerons were invited, and everything was perfectly predictable. your dad was in the dining room with ward and rose, sharing some expensive whiskey that probably had a story behind it. sarah was in the kitchen helping your mom, wheezie trailing behind her like a shadow. you and rafe were in the living room, curled up on the couch by the fire, a blanket draped over your lap.

your head rested on his shoulder, the soft glow of the fireplace making the whole scene feel oddly intimate. rafe’s hand was hidden under the blanket, his fingers lightly resting on your thigh. it wasn’t obvious—he wasn’t obvious—but it was enough to make your heart race. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, leaning into him as the sound of the tv filled the room.

“sarah asked me about you,” rafe said suddenly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you lifted your head, intrigued, your fingers idly playing with his under the blanket. “oh yeah?” you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah.” he glanced down at your intertwined hands, then back at you. “she asked if we were together.”

you snorted softly, amused. “and what’d you say?”

“what do you think i said?” he asked, raising a brow.

you just shook your head, letting the silence hang for a moment. then, rafe gave you a look, one that made your stomach flip in a way you’d never admit. “we should start a fight,” he said, completely deadpan.

you blinked at him, pulling your head back to study his face. “what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “might throw sarah off our scent.”

“you’re so stupid,” you muttered, shaking your head, but there was no bite to it.

“i’m serious,” he said, leaning back against the couch. “we get into some dumb argument, everyone’s gonna think we’re just . . . you know, being us.”

“but it’s christmas,” you said. “we’re supposed to be in the christmas spirit, not the . . . i don’t know. hateful one.”

“fine, fine. not hateful,” he conceded, tilting his head slightly. “okay, what about this—” you watched him, waiting, your fingers still tangled with his. “—when i say, ‘you always have to get the last word, don’t you?’ what i’ll really mean is, i love you.”

you stared at him, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. he was so stupid. so him.

“okay,” you said slowly, your voice soft. “then when i say, ‘only because you never know when to stop talking,’ that’ll mean i love you back.”

rafe squinted at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. “oh, i don’t know when to stop talking?”

you nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. “yeah.”

“yeah?” he echoed, leaning in closer.

“yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible now.

before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours, soft but firm, shutting you up in the most effective way possible. it was quick, but it was enough to leave you breathless, your heart pounding as he pulled back, a smug smile on his face.

now the dining room buzzed with the usual holiday energy—silverware clinking against plates, the hum of casual conversation, and the faint scent of rosemary and cinnamon wafting in from the kitchen.

your dad was deep in conversation with ward, their low voices occasionally punctuated by laughter as they sipped their whiskey. rose stood nearby, her forced-polite smile unwavering as she chimed in here and there, while wheezie flitted around, setting plates at each spot on the long, polished table.

you lingered near the head of the table, your fingers brushing the back of one of the chairs as you debated where to sit. rafe stood just a step behind you, his presence unmistakable even without looking.

sarah appeared in the doorway, carefully balancing a steaming casserole dish in her hands, her gaze scanning the room before landing on the table. rafe must have noticed her at the same time because, without warning, his shoulder bumped into yours—not hard, but enough to make you stumble a step forward.

“move,” he muttered, his tone sharp enough to catch your attention.

you blinked, caught off guard, before turning to him with a raised brow. there was amusement in his eyes this time, but his expression remained serious. you knew exactly what he was doing.

“excuse me?” you shot back, your voice dripping with mock irritation as you planted your feet firmly where you stood.

“you’re in my way,” he said, gesturing toward the chair you were closest to as if you were blocking his path.

“i’m in your way?” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “you’re the one taking up half the room with your oversized ego.”

his lips twitched, but he kept his composure. “and you’re taking up the other half with your big mouth.”

he did not.

you stared at him, fighting every urge to laugh. your lips twitched as you bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep it together.

for a second, you thought he might crack. his lips pressed together, his shoulders stiffened, but he stayed in character, his determination to fool sarah unshakable.

meanwhile, the room carried on as if nothing was happening. your parents barely spared you a glance, too engrossed in their conversations. it was clear they were used to your bickering—it was just background noise to them at this point.

but sarah wasn’t as quick to dismiss it. she paused mid-step, her eyes flicking between the two of you as she set the dish down on the table. her brows furrowed slightly, and you could feel her studying you, trying to piece something together.

you didn’t miss a beat. “you always have to make everything about you, don’t you?” you said, stepping aside just enough to let him pass but not without bumping his arm in the process.

rafe moved into the space you’d left, pulling out a chair with an exaggerated huff. “you always have to get the last word, don’t you?”

i love you.

your gaze narrowed, and a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “only because you never know when to stop talking,” you replied, your tone quieter now but no less pointed.

i love you back.

the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, but he didn’t respond. instead, he sank into his seat, leaning back with an air of triumph.

you moved to the opposite side of the table, pulling out the chair directly across from him. sarah, still watching, shot rafe a glare. “you’re such a jerk,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing back into the kitchen.

the second she was gone, your eyes flicked back to rafe. he was already looking at you, his smirk softening into something more playful. he winked, the gesture quick and subtle, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling.

you and rafe had navigated the evening like it was your own secret game, your relationship hidden in plain sight.

now, just a year later at the same christmas dinner, the only thing hidden is the sharp ache that settles in your chest whenever you catch sight of him.

the breakup isn’t totally fresh—weeks and weeks have passed, long enough for the initial sting to fade into something duller, quieter. still, the weight of it lingers, like the ghost of a bruise. you tell yourself you’re over it, over him, that whatever you’d felt has burned out long before the end. but being here, in the same room, breathing the same air, makes it harder to convince yourself of that.

you sit through dinner with practiced ease, smiling at the right moments, laughing when it feels appropriate. rafe, seated across the table, seems to be doing the same. his face is unreadable, his attention focused on his plate or the conversations around him, but you can feel his presence like a steady hum beneath your skin.

after the plates are cleared and the wine glasses refilled, you slip outside. you sit on the front step of the porch, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped loosely around them, and you stare out into the quiet, your thoughts drifting aimlessly.

the sound of the door creaking open breaks the silence. you don’t turn, but you know it’s him before he even steps outside.

rafe lingers in the doorway for a moment. he looks down at the drink in his hand, his thumb brushing idly against the rim of the glass. then, without a word, he walks over and sits down beside you. the step creaks faintly under his weight as he sets his drink down beside him.

for a while, he doesn’t say anything. neither of you do. the silence isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t unbearable either—it’s just . . . there.

you keep your gaze fixed on the horizon, the faint outline of trees against the dark sky. rafe sits with his hands loosely clasped between his knees, his shoulders hunched slightly forward. the space between you feels like miles, even though he’s close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of him against the cold night air.

rafe breaks the quiet. his voice is low, almost tentative. “sorry about the, uh . . .” he gestures vaguely to his shirt, where the faintest stain from earlier is barely visible in the dim light.

it takes you a second to catch on, but then you remember: during dinner, his drink had tipped—his fault entirely—and splashed across the front of your sweater and slightly his own. there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“don’t worry,” you say lightly, turning your gaze back to the houses across the lots. “you saved me from wearing that thing ever again. it was time to let it go.”

he huffs out a small laugh, looking down at his hands. “yeah, well. still.”

for a moment, it feels like the edges of the past have softened, like you’ve both stepped into some neutral ground where the weight of everything isn’t crushing you. but the moment doesn’t last. something itches at the back of your mind, a question you’ve thought about too many times to count but never dared to ask.

you turn your head slightly, just enough to face his direction, though your eyes stay fixed on the porch railing. your voice is quieter now, more careful. “why did you . . . ?”

you don’t finish the question. maybe you don’t know how to, or maybe you’re afraid of the answer. but rafe knows. he always does.

he exhales slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “why did i what?”

“you know,” you murmur.

he’s quiet for a moment, and when he finally speaks, there’s a weariness in his voice that mirrors your own. “i guess, i didn’t know what else to do. after everything, i just—” he stops himself, shaking his head. “i thought maybe if i kept moving, kept doing . . . something, it’d feel less like everything was falling apart.”

you nod slowly. because you’d noticed, of course, the way he threw himself into everything—work, parties, anything to fill the spaces you used to occupy. you’d wondered if it was his way of coping or if it was just his way of running.

“and did it?” you ask, finally glancing at him.

he looks over at you, his blue eyes shadowed in the dim light. “did it what?”

“feel less like everything was falling apart.”

his lips press into a thin line, and he looks away, his gaze falling to the ground. “no,” he admits, so quietly you almost don’t hear it.

you nod again, your fingers picking idly at the hem of your new sweater. “me neither,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s trying to read the things you’re not saying. but you don’t meet his gaze, keeping your focus on the dark horizon instead.

“i didn’t think you’d leave,” he says after a moment, his voice rough around the edges.

the words hit harder than you expect, even though you’ve thought about this moment a thousand times. “i didn’t think i would either,” you confess.

and there it is, the unspoken story between you—the weight of everything you’ve been through, the cracks and fractures that finally gave way. you don’t say any more, and neither does he.

so your hand moves before you even think about it, reaching across the space between you. his hand is resting on his thigh, fingers loosely curled, and you gently wrap your own fingers around the back of it, curling into his palm. you don’t say anything—there’s nothing to say, not really—but you squeeze once, firm enough to tell him without words that you’re here, that you’re still here, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

he doesn’t look at you. his eyes stay fixed on the grass in the front yard. for a second, you think maybe he won’t respond, maybe he won’t let you in. but then his hand twitches beneath yours, his fingers shifting to squeeze back, just once. it’s a quiet thank you, a wordless acceptance of something neither of you can name.

you feel a lump rising in your throat, the vulnerability in his silence cutting through you in a way nothing else could. you know he doesn’t want to talk about it, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, something stupid, something that might make him laugh.

“i just, you know, didn’t think you’d ever play basketball with topper again,” you say, your voice light, almost teasing. “i mean, didn’t he break your nose last time?”

you glance at him, hoping for a smile, for something to break the tension. and for a second, you think it works. his lips twitch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a bitter smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. he just stares at the grass, his fingers tightening slightly around yours before letting go.

the silence stretches again, thicker this time, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “you always have to get the last word, don’t you?”

your chest tightens, the words hitting harder than they should. it’s not just what he says—it’s how he says it. your expression hardens, the realization sinking in like a stone. he’s not talking about the joke. he’s talking about you. about this. about the way it all ended, the way you ended it.

the code you made up a year ago flashes in your mind, unbidden. you always have to get the last word. it was supposed to be a joke after that, a way to tease each other when you argued over stupid things, but now it feels like something else entirely. something sharp and unforgiving.

i love you.

you don’t say anything at first, the guilt settling heavy in your chest. you know he’s right. you know what he’s trying to say, even if he won’t come out and say it. but what can you do? what can you possibly say that will make any of this better?

finally, after what feels like forever, you whisper, “i know.”

you can’t bring yourself to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see the way his jaw clenches, the way his head dips lower. the dim porch light catches on his face, and you realize his eyes are glossed over, though he doesn’t let a single tear fall.

he doesn’t look at you, and you don’t blame him. you can’t bring yourself to look at him either. you just sit there, side by side, the space between you feeling wider than ever.

[tcoaal]

a fundamental key aspect of examining literature is the author's intention, and everything we do with that intent: be it accepting it or rejecting it. it is among the most important tasks of the reader: when you do a critical analysis, especially so.

i am a very, very, very firm believer the "Word of God" is secondary to what is presented in the actual text. it is most important to examine what has been said or done in the text and it's implications directly, that is my personal belief as a reader. however, i believe that the author's intent is not something that should be ignored.

Nemlei is very clear, for example, that the idea of the siblings acting the way they are due to a neurodivergence or mental illness is not the right way to think. this is observable in the text.

Andrew and Ashley didn't become murderous incestious cannibals because they were born the right way or crazy or some stupid shit like that. they are the products of a society and world that has completely and absolutely failed them at every opportunity.

the coffin does not exist because they were naturally destined for it.

i've always thought, from the moment i played it, this is it. this is the moment Ashley Graves became a Tar Soul. i think it was the last chance Renee had to say "Holy shit, I'm a fucking terrible mother." and try to help her. and when Andrew, a child himself, fell asleep (not something he should blamed for) as Ashley tried to share her pain. the moment a Tar Soul hatched.

so that leads into the second half. about accepting or rejecting the author's intent.

the final room in Shots and Such is haunting. there's so much you can easily miss. the bathroom, Ashley's last safe space, being destroyed in a rampage by Andrew. the fucking table. the one time they had sex Andrew in his right mind enjoyed, Ashley only able to enjoy it as she was so drunk she could not be "herself" and breaking down afterwards. even small things like Andrew not taking out the garbage and Ashley preferring to let it affect their living space than help him out. everything in that small apartment from hell: everything must be viewed together as the whole, as the sum of all it's parts.

there is a clear intention of the author in those so easily missable scenes. the mutual love and hatred between them, with hatred greater than love. the dysfunction and normalization of violence into just another day.

Andrew having raped Ashley and probably not even processing it was rape is just another dime in the dozen incident in that little hellhole. hell, maybe that was the night he knocked up Ashley.

we can interpret this scene in different ways, even though i think the author's intention is pretty clear. Ashley could not consent. she lost all control, they had sex, and Andrew can't piece together what went wrong. the one night they actually "made love" which is clearly an opinion he and only he has.

... and you know, we have to accept author's might not have the same morality as us. the same opinions.

"If two people get super drunk, and have sex, who's at fault?" and some people might not have answers we like. an author might even write an opinion we vehemently disagree with from the bottom of our heart.

and it is our duty as readers to discern and interpret their works. i truly, sincerely believe this. i believe from the bottom of my heart the author's intention has become clear in shots and such.

"No one asks when she kicks you out for the night, or which stairs she fell down this time. It's all business as usual."

the normalization of both abuse and despair.

to the point even this becomes just another tidbit of that hell.

hate the idea that an abuse victim can become an abuser all you want. i think it is clear what it is Nemlei has tried to convey. hate it, reject it, love it, accept it, or ignore it. disagree or agree with me. i personally have read this and have arrived at my conclusion based on the text given to me, and analysis of the dialogue in this scene as well.

Nemlei is not writing for us. she makes that clear.

and it is up to us if we want to accept or reject that.

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU 

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 17.7k

warnings (SPOILERS!!!): tension, resentment, fight scenes (nothing too graphic), Boxer!JK, injuries, blood, spying, drama with exes, arguing, underground cage fighting with ill intentions, OC and JK wrestle for control when he goes into his rut, a magic spell gone wrong, biting, JK and OC's POVs are included, HAPPY ENDING

smut warnings (tread carefully): masturbation (male), JK later goes into his RUT, kissing, unprotected sex, thigh job, oral sex (male and female receiving), scratching, rough sex, face-fucking, standing sex, knotting, creampies, dirty talk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, hickies, nipple play, tummy bulge, lots of cum, marking, doggystyle, slight breeding kink (no pregnancy), slight dumbification, pain kink, brief mentions of anal, chains, hand jobs

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). This is the most smut I've written in a while and I tried out a new writing style too. I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and asks always make my day, thank you! Or if you prefer AO3, I post there too.

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

Another unknown number. You stare at your phone on the motel bed like the device is an uninvited guest as you step out of the bathroom, scrunching a towel around your damp hair. The clock on the wall reads midnight. 

Maybe it’s a client?

The call disappears before you can answer it, reverting to the lock screen—the wedding group picture from last year. You had cropped it where it showcases only you and Jungkook. It’s a tad pixelated from being zoomed in so much, but the same deer-in-the-headlights expression pokes through on both of your faces. He was holding you in a dip position because you had almost fallen. The memory makes you smile every time, and you need a little joy in this dreary room. 

You sit on the bed and the phone rings again, as if on cue. The towel is cast aside as you answer it, tapping the button for speaker mode. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

Even your alarm clock can’t get you out of bed this fast. You’re up on your feet, placing the phone against your ear as your heart rate spikes. There’s no way. That deep, smooth voice was unmistakable, especially when it used to whisper the filthiest things in your ear. “Y-Yes, this is her. Who is this?”

As if you don’t already know. “I’m Officer Kim Taehyung, Headmaster Kim gave me your number.”

What’s the latest phone model in store? Because you’re seconds away from shattering the current one in your hands. Or maybe you should redirect your anger around Namjoon’s neck instead. You kept your words steady as you said, “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I’m worried about a… a friend of mine,” he says. His hesitation on the “friend” label piques your interest. “I haven’t been able to reach him in a couple of weeks. I’m worried he’s gone missing.”

Wait. He’s an officer now? 

“If an officer such as yourself hasn’t been able to find him, that is worrisome. I’m assuming your friend is supernatural. Because that’s kind of all I do…”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat, unable to force the things you want to scream out. You had to take a deep breath before asking in a low voice, depicting how serious this is, “He’s a what?”

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

Do I know him… what a stupid question. You roll your eyes as if he could see you through the phone. “Text me everything you have on him. I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Are you questioning my skills? I said I’ll find him.”

You hang up after that and collapse flat on your back, the mattress squeaking from your weight. You shouldn’t be so harsh on him; the poor man wasn’t up to date with all that’s happened. It’s not like he would know your history with Jungkook. Or you, for that matter. You made sure of that.

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

KTH: His name is Jeon Jungkook. His last known location was his apartment up north. I’ll send you the address and a picture.

He’s a man of his word, as the next text contains a map with the location marked by a round red pushpin. As much as you want to cremate Namjoon, Taehyung has given you the first lead you’ve had in months. If anything happened to Jungkook, you’d never forgive yourself. 

*Bzz*

Well, that’s new. It’s a picture of Jungkook under a white duvet, his arm bent, his head propped on his hand. Most of his body was covered, but the amount of skin showing at the junction between his neck and shoulder lets you know he is naked. Or at most, shirtless. Both are equally hot options if you have anything to say about it. 

His lips are pressed together into a coy smile, but his eyes are screaming “fuck me.” Like a personal challenge. 

KTH: Oops. I didn’t mean to send that picture.

You: It’s fine. I got the jist of what he looks like.

Why he has such a suggestive photo of Jungkook in the first place was concerning, but not enough for you to press further. 

Jungkook’s Point of View

My guard is up as my opponent swings his fists. His moves have zero technique, relying solely on blind rage as he tries to knock me out. Too bad I was quicker than him, playing the defensive first while I decided the best way to secure my victory. 

As we shuffle around the caged ring, the burly man in front of me grows impatient, like a bull taunted by a red cape. The more he charged, the more I dodged. He hasn’t gotten a single hit in, which only spurs the crowd to cheer louder for me. 

My heart is battering around in my rib cage, excited from the adrenaline rush. Having the spotlight on me, adoring fans, and exerting my muscles makes me feel alive. I don’t focus on anything else. I can’t. If I want to win, I transform whatever turmoil brews inside me into determination.

The rules are simple: no weapons, no biting, only fists and feet. Classic brawl style. We may be wolves, but there are boundaries, or our pride would cause a full-on slaughter.

The guy in front of me is drenched in sweat, and I see how his movements slowed—he was getting tired. It was time for me to go on the offensive.

I launch a kick, aiming for his right side. He caught it without even blinking, earning a choral gasp from the audience. They assume I’m in a bind, but I focus all my strength on my other leg and smack the dude across the face at lightning speed. He fell with a resounding thud, but I don’t wait for him to regain balance. 

I hit him with all I got—jab, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, left hook. He cowered in the corner like a bitch and I knee him in the gut. It was like watching a boulder topple over, his pride smashed into smithereens. Throwing my arms up, I circle the cage to pump up morale. The crowd bangs their fists against the enclosure as I roar. The referee begins the countdown from ten. 

Another victory added to my streak. Maybe I’ll treat myself and get laid tonight. I can smell the eager ones in the room and when I first got here, I always turned them down to be modest. Fuck that. I’m finally going to do it. 

I scan the room for potential suitors when my eyes land on her. It was like tunnel vision where everyone else was blacked out and she was the light at the end. I’m nothing but a moth to her flame, so gobsmacked that I rub my eyes to ensure I wasn’t seeing things. 

When I come to, she’s gone. There’s no way. 

I worked so hard to get over her. Is my brain so fucked that it’s starting to make me hallucinate? It seems years of therapy did absolutely nothing. Thanks, Jin.

Next thing I know the big guy recovers and tackles me to the ground. He got a good hit in; I tasted blood. There was no time to dwell on a figment of my imagination. My thirst for victory shouldn’t be underestimated as I swing my fist square in his jaw. I wasn’t going down that easy. 

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

I’ve been examining my face for five minutes now, hating how he split my lip open. Oh well. It’ll heal soon enough and I sent him home with far worse. 

That was the last fight of the night, so I had the locker room all to myself. The staff went home after sending the customers on their way. I go to my locker, type in the combination, and pull out a spare change of clothes and a towel. 

I head to the shower, placing my things on the bench. I undress, the first thing being my tank top, which had splotches of blood stained on the white fabric. Most of it wasn’t mine anyway, thankfully. I remove my shorts, discarding them in the same pile as my top. 

I enter the shower and close the curtain, turning the water onto the hottest setting. Once it hits my skin, I throw my head back and feel my muscles release its tension as I bask in the warmth. I tilt my head forward to get my hair damp when thoughts of her creep into my mind. 

It felt real. She looked real. I remembered everything about her appearance from head to toe even if I only saw her briefly. 

Her hair was dyed now to a color that suited her features. She had minimal makeup on that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her body was adorned in black skinny jeans where the seams were in front, matching her black combat boots and leather jacket. Underneath was a short-sleeved v-neck, her cleavage prominent and so inviting. Ugh. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in such a way, but where was I supposed to look? Her push-up bra was doing god’s work. 

Man, I’m so pathetic. I shouldn’t lust over her. She left me not once, but twice. What’s worse is she doesn’t know I remember everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept vervain on me that day. Would my life have turned out better? 

I dispense some body wash into my hands, lathering it between my palms before rubbing my torso. My hands trail down to my groin area, and I thoroughly clean it because sweaty balls are such a turn-off. But then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, stroking it slowly. 

It looks like I’m washing it, but I already know what’s coming next. Memories of her are like shards of glass I can’t remove, embedded so deep that it scars. I reminisce about our past. How it felt to touch her, kiss her, love her. Her sweet moans, her soft breasts, her addictive scent. I’m palming myself and shuddering. Unlike her, my hands are calloused, but I pretend I have her soft touch.

I close my eyes and fantasize. I’d tear her clothes off with my bare teeth, mark all over her chest with my lips, turn her around, and take her. Indulge in my primitive urges and teach her a lesson. God, I wanted to fuck someone tonight, anyone, but my mind defaults to her. 

The soap makes it easy to glide my hand up and down my cock. I’m going much faster now, my breaths more ragged. No one’s here anyway. So I moan. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need to come and get this out of my system. 

I’m about to finish when there’s a gasp outside my stall. My entire body stills and I don’t take a moment to ask “Who’s there?” like the stupid idiots you see in horror movies. I think about what to do next and then commit. 

After turning off the water, I pull the curtain back and step out. I glance to my left to see the shower stall at the end has its curtain closed. It wasn’t like that before. 

I put on my boxers because I sure as hell wasn’t going to face this intruder naked. I plan to charge in there and drag him out without saying a word. Other than the sound of my footsteps, it’s eerily quiet. I reach my hand out, but as soon as I’m about to grab the curtain, the shower turns on. 

I hesitate, wondering if I’m about to be an asshole who’s about to expose an innocent soul out in the open. Before I built my reputation, I was jumped for being the new guy multiple times. That stopped after the third guy went home with three broken ribs though, but I can never be too careful. Some people were sore losers.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Great. I’m not only stupid but polite. I’m sure the person behind the curtain will slit my throat any moment, so I better act fast. I grab the curtain and attempt to pull it, but it’s stuck. 

Or rather, someone is holding it still. I yank harder this time, but they refuse to budge. I use both hands, gripping it extra tight, and tug with all my might until the sound of torn fabric echoes in the room, revealing the culprit.

The person I thought I healed from, the one I once thought I would heal with, is standing right before me, her eyes as wide as mine. I can’t think straight, so my body moves without permission as I charge forward, pinning her to the wall face first. I have her arms pinned behind her back, catching my breath when I realized what I had done. 

I don’t want her to look at me. Because then I’d have to accept the fact that she’s real. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

Where do you start? Do you tell him you tracked him down to the countryside and climbed down a creepy cellar door behind a barn only to find out he was an underground cage fighter? Or explain how you followed him to the locker rooms hoping to get a word with him until you tripped on your shoelaces? 

It’s difficult to decide when he’s got your arms twisted behind your back. They were getting sore. 

“I–I heard you were missing,” you say, wary of your next choice of words. “Can you please let me go?”

You attempt to move, but he holds your wrists with one hand while using the other one to render your head immobile. He uses enough force to press your cheek against the cold tile.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warned, his voice laced with venom. “Congratulations, you found me. I’m no longer missing.”

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re cheating. This place is only for werewolves and you’re a—”

He flips you around so quickly you almost get whiplash, your back pinned to the wall while he covers your mouth. He has a murderous glare, his jaw clenches, and the vein near his temple bulges out. “Be quiet. You never know who’s listening.”

Your eyes drink him in, ogling him unashamed because his beauty should have been illegal. His hair was damp, but you can tell it’s cut short now. He didn’t have any piercings in, his natural beauty was enough to make anyone fall to their knees—which is exactly what you wanted to do for him. But you don’t make a sound. 

You couldn’t help but notice the glorious sight of his inked sleeve. When did he get that many tattoos? You bet there was a story to each one, but before you can dwell on it, Jungkook shifts his hand from your mouth to your eyes. 

There’s a sense of deja vu from his actions. The last time he covered your eyes was to prevent you from compelling him two years ago. Following through with such a heartbreaking decision was difficult, but you believed it was for the best.

As for now? You’re not sure. 

“So you stalk me because you thought I was missing, follow me into the showers, and now you’re ogling me like a pervert?”

He got you there. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“If the roles were reversed, I’d look like some sick freak. You invaded my privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Let me ask you something, and I expect you to be honest: Were you listening to me earlier?” He saw you tuck your lower lip under your teeth like you wanted to seal the words shut. “Answer me. And don’t play dumb.”

“Yes,” you say, meek and pathetic. “I heard you.”

You can’t see him, but his eyes are crazed like he doesn’t know how to act around you. “And did you like what you heard?” He closes the gap between your bodies, his bare chest barely brushing against yours. His lips are ghosting across your own as he continues. “You like hearing me get off like some sick freak? Is that what you are? A fucking pervert?”

“N-No…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

His hot breath fans across your face. “I didn’t even get to finish.”

You gulp. “I… I could help you finish…”

Before your hand has a chance to sneak over to his lower region, he snatches it. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.”

“Technically, you touched me first.”

“Bratty now, are we? Don’t be flattered. I’d rather touch myself.” He releases your wrist, but his other hand is in the same spot, obstructing your sight. “I’m going to jerk off and you’re going to stand there until I’m finished.”

“What?”

“You heard me. And you’re going to keep hearing me until I’m satisfied. Understand?”

The constant steam from the shower was nearing the point of suffocation, but his words were far deadlier. “Okay.”

“Hands behind your back. I don’t want you tempted. Perverts like you can’t be trusted.”

You have to scold yourself for igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach from his slander, but you obey. Though you can’t see him, you hear the soft smacking sounds of him jerking his cock, surprised at how quickly he was to start.

If you had your sight, you’d be able to see how he is staring at your lips, wishing more than anything he could kiss you. How his eyes trail down to your cleavage and how the droplets of water made them look more enticing. His mind is racing a mile a minute through all his fantasies of how he’d take you, punish you, torment you until you were begging to come. As much as he does want to fuck you, you’re so damn gorgeous that admiring you was enough. 

His moans sound like soft sobs the closer he approaches his climax, his hand speeding up. It’s erotic, whiny, and sexy when he’s so desperate. He’s grunting through gritted teeth, panting like he’s running out of breath. You wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s working out. 

Fuck, you’d give anything to see him now. But his intentions were clear. You were to be still until he was finished. 

“Does this turn you on?” he asks, his voice shaky. He lays his chin on your shoulder, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “I’m close.”

He lets out a choked gasp, whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck” as he pumps himself as fast as he can, reaching his high and submitting to the pleasure. It’s unbelievably erotic and he comes in his hand, catching the spurts of cum. He pulls back and stares at your lips again.

“Open.” Your mouth obeys willingly and he shoves two of his cum-soaked fingers inside. You close your lips around them, sucking them clean and savoring his taste. It’s bitter and slightly salty, but you welcome it. “Good girl.”

The praise brings a grin to your face. He rinses his hand under the water, turns it off, and finally releases his hold on you. You see the large expanse of his back as he walks away, almost drooling at his size. He slips on a loose black T-shirt, sweatpants, and slides. 

He looks over his shoulder. “Do you need clothes?” 

The question makes your heart swell. “I’m good.” 

Jungkook hears you mutter words similar to Latin. He turns around to see your necklace glow when you rub it between your thumb and forefinger. Your clothes dry in an instant, and he chuckles. “When did you learn magic?”

“I’ve had some free time.”

He peers down to your feet, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks over. Getting down on one knee, he ties your shoelace and you can’t help but melt. 

“I hope you have some free time now,” he says, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I’m not done with you yet. We need to talk.”

It’s past 3 AM. The air is cool and crisp, carrying a faint scent of hay. Stars are twinkling in the clear night sky while the moon casts a silvery glow, illuminating silhouettes of barns in the distance. It’s quiet since folks are deep in their slumber, so walks home are usually serene. 

“Jungkook, wait up!”

Today’s an exception. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

You jog to catch up to his pace on the dirt road. He rolls his eyes but slows his steps, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you say we needed to talk?”

He stops abruptly, and you almost bump into his mountainous form. “Okay. Talk. Why are you here? You made it clear the last time we met that you couldn’t stay.”

You fumble with your words, as your brain isn’t quite as speedy as your lips. “Well I… I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Did I hurt you?” Your expression softens when you see the concern in his features, those brown doe eyes so big and round that you can see your reflection in them. Had he spent all this time fearing the worst?

“No… not in the slightest. I left because I was embarrassed.”

“I don’t believe you. You looked at me like…” He closes his eyes as if the next words would pain him. “Like I was a mistake.”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You are anything but a mistake.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He invades your space, his large frame towering over yours. “Why are you really here, [Y/N]?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth. With one command, you can make him remember loving you and all the shared memories that came with it. You’re ready to love him the way he deserves, but the thing is… you’re not sure you deserve him. Consequences were in order and pain was inevitable. He’ll hate you. He’ll feel betrayed.

Panic takes charge, forming an excuse for you. “I told you… someone told me you went missing. I was worried.”

He raises an eyebrow, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue like your answer was unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook drops his arms to his side. “Wow. That son of a…” He clasps a hand to his forehead, pacing back and forth in utter disbelief. “Guess I have two stalkers.”

“What exactly is Taehyung’s relationship to you?”

He stops and faces you, looking like you had offended him. “There is no relationship. There will never be a relationship, but he doesn’t seem to get that! God!”

You place your hands on your hips. “I don’t understand.”

He decides against elaborating but quickly changes his mind after seeing you use Taehyung to deflect.

“He’s an old roommate. We used to fuck. Okay?” Time seems to stop between you two but for an entirely different reason. You’re abhorred, unable to comprehend the fact your ex fucked your other ex. This must be the universe’s punishment for messing with their memories. Because the Jungkook you know would have never sought him out after everything Taehyung put you through.

You fucked my ex?! The dude who tried to kill you?! The guy who backstabbed us and harmed us?! Are you insane?!

You have to bite your tongue before the house of cards collapses. 

“I was experiencing my first rut. It was overwhelming. Not like I could fuck a human without hurting them. Permanently,” he adds, watching how your face morphs into one lost in thought. “What’s up?” 

You snap out of it. “Oh. Nothing. Before Taehyung, I went west because there were rumors of the ‘Cervix Splitter’ and thought…”

He stares at you, mouth agape as he points to himself. “You thought that was me?!”

“I don’t know!” you say, holding your hands out with your palms up. “I think they might have a serial killer loose… damn.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” he asks, exasperation coating every word. You nod and gesture for him to continue. “Anyway, he and I ran into each other and one thing led to another. We were both hybrids with needs. It was a good arrangement, but then he got obsessive. Wanted a relationship. I said no.”

You give him a look of sympathy as you recall how Taehyung reacted when you broke up with him. Even though you erased your existence from his mind, it seems his obsessive tendencies lingered. Some things never change. “He didn’t like that very much, did he?”

“What do you think? I ran away, so he’d leave me alone. It worked for the past few months until you showed up.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “Did you tell him I was here?”

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

He points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re not going to tell him anything. Got it?”

“I won’t. But if you keep that tone up, I might reconsider,” you warn.

“And how would that benefit you? Do you know Taehyung?”

Unfortunately. “It’s my job to help those in need in the supernatural community.”

“What are you, the Scooby Doo gang?” He steps back to laugh. “Is this what you’ve been up to since you’ve left?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold. “Helping is what I do. I’m good at it. It clears my mind.”

“Okay. Then you can ‘help’ yourself out of here. Tell Taehyung you didn’t find me while I go home and rest. I’m exhausted.”

He dashes off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. You follow at once and encounter a quaint cottage surrounded by forestry. Jungkook waits at the front door, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you need something else?” he asks. You swear you can see the cogs turning in his mind, unable to figure out what’s your angle.

“Are you going to continue fighting?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a great stress reliever. Keeps me from…” His eyes flit to your lips for a brief second. “... overthinking. Plus I get great perks. Respect. Fans. Money.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I know, but it’s a power trip having it. Besides, people bet on me. I’d hate to let my loyal benefactors down.”

You mirror his stance, folding your arms as displeasure passes your face. “You’re a hybrid. It’s a given you’ll win every fight and that’s not fair to their pack.”

“Only if they find out.” You’re about to counteract his argument, but he beats you to it. “Look. Boxing’s my thing. I enjoy the rush it gives me. Exerting my muscles, feeling that sweet burn, and fighting until my body gives out—it’s addicting. I feel alive.”

His eyes shimmer with every word he speaks like he was putting on a speech to inspire high school kids. It only brings you more dread when there’s a confession on the tip of your tongue. 

“Well… do you have to box here?”

“I like it here. Now if you don’t mind…”

He pulls out his keys, turns around, and inserts them into the lock. You nibble on your thumbnail, scrambling to come up with another excuse. Once he enters, you use your enhanced speed and invite yourself in. 

“Can I stay?” you ask, quick to shut the door. He chuckles, impressed by your tenacity.

“What is with you? Don’t you have a Cervix Splitter to catch? Please leave.”

The words bubble up in your throat, forcefully coming to the surface like word vomit. “You can’t stay here!”

The outburst garners his undivided attention as he stares at you dumbfounded like there is Wii music playing in the background. “Why?”

“There’s some people who know you’re a hybrid…” you reveal, your voice reduced to a mere squeak.

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You don’t reply and he repeats himself, this time with a lower volume, which spooks you more than if he was shouting. “What did you do?”

“When I came here to find you, I asked if anyone saw you. I showed them a picture and told them you’re a hybrid. Thought it’d make it faster…” You let out a small laugh. “I was kinda right…”

Jungkook looks like he’s at a crossroads of whether to hate you or murder you. Or both. “Why would you expose me like that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.” He lifts his fist at an angle toward the door, and you wait for him to slam it down in anger. However, he sighs and lowers his hand slowly, splaying his fingers against the wood. You blink twice, choosing your next words carefully. “I don’t understand. Why would you hide the fact you’re a hybrid?”

He holds onto the sides of his head like he is about to rip his hair out. “Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm is dripping in every word. “Did you forget how your grandparents tried to kill us when they discovered your existence?”

What did he say?

His hands drop down by his side as do yours. Realization dawns upon you two, the world coming to a screeching halt. Shock renders you immobile as the gears in your head try to turn, but they’re overwhelmed by the million questions plaguing your mind. He shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t remember that. Unless… he never forgot.

“You remember me… You remember everything,” you say in a breathy tone. You should’ve seen it coming, especially with how he acted at the wedding. “How do you—“

“I had vervain on me,” he confesses without the slightest remorse. 

You take a small step back, almost stumbling. “So this whole time… you never forgot me? You knew what I did and didn’t say anything? You slept with Taehyung?!”

“That’s what you got from this? That’s what you choose to focus on?” His question pins you for a fool. 

“Because that’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! I erased his memories so he could start fresh. Same with you!”

“What difference does it make? I asked, no, I begged you not to erase my memories and you did it anyway.”

You steel yourself to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want you burdened by me anymore. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

He tilts his head, his eye slightly twitching as he raises a finger like he is about to lecture you. “Stop. Stop saying it was best for me when the reality was, you were only thinking about yourself.” He takes a sharp inhale. “You wanna know why I got with Tae? Because I was a mess when you left. Devastated. Broken people look for broken people, [Y/N].”

You threw your head back. “Oh my god... This is precisely why I wanted you to forget.”

He almost snarls. “You don’t get it, do you? You always do this. You make decisions without my consent. I never asked to be a hybrid, I never asked for any of this shit.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended. “I’m sorry, you’re upset I turned you to save your life?”

“You turning me was what started this whole mess,” he spits out, revulsion apparent. “I was sired to you, I fell in love with you, I went through hell and back only for it to not matter in the end. You left me. I could forgive you the first time, but not for the second.”

There aren’t any words you can say to combat this. 

“I remember everything about you. About us,” he says, the look in his eyes resembling a kicked puppy. “I remember what you said the day you tried to compel me.”

“Don’t,” you plead. He throws your words back at you in a rather snarky manner.

“‘When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.,” he quotes. “I used to think I’d be okay waiting for you to come around… but that was incredibly stupid. You came back only to abandon me again and for what? To go around playing vigilante?”

“Jungkook…”

“No, I’m not done.” He starts to pace back and forth. “Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? Of course not. Because in the end, it’s all about you. You should’ve erased everything. What was the point of only erasing my love for you, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, fighting back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth. You erased Taehyung’s memories of you because he was a psychopath but spared me the smallest glimpse. Why? Why not erase it all?”

“Because I love you!” you exclaim. He stops pacing, shooting you a skeptical glare. “And knowing that you still remembered me, even a tiny part of me, was comforting enough to help me move on. I needed space.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? But I’m not your safety net, [Y/N].” He walks over to his front door and pulls it open. “Get out.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

“Either you get out or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and force you out.”

The resentment he had must’ve grown exponentially over the years. If you push him further than you already had, he might snap. So you exit his house but go for one final attempt at whatever relationship you can salvage with him.

“Please let me stay. I can protect you from those cage fighters if they decide to get even.”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

“Enough!” His voice carries, causing birds to flutter their wings and find solace in another tree further away. You watch as he towers over you again, but beneath his icy glare is a heartbroken man. “Since I first saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”

He tightens his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before saying the next part.

“I have always belonged to you. And for that, I suffered. I came here to escape, to heal, and it worked. I was at peace and you waltz in here, stirring up chaos in my life where it’s not welcomed.” His eyes never waver and you don’t dare look away. “And what’s funny is how you expect me to do what? Take you back?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he finishes for you. “Do you think it’s easy seeing you? I’m angry, [Y/N]. You make me so mad I can’t even think straight.”

“Then yell at me! Don’t push me away.”

“I’m pushing you away because I know you. And I know what hurts you the most.” He caresses your face longingly, slowly, like it’d be the last time. His fingers ghost the surface of your skin, and you lean in, desperate for more. But he pulls back. “Either you choose me or you lose me. And it’s too late to choose me now. Goodbye [Y/N].”

“No,” you say like a stubborn child. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m afraid to lose you. Please.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he shakes his head. “I suggest you face your fears. It’s not like this is the first time.”

The last thing you see is the door being slammed in your face.

Jungkook’s Point of View

That was the worst sleep of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how I left her. She deserved all my venomous words, but empathy made me regret everything. Why do we even need such an emotion when all it does is make us feel like shit?

It’s pitch black in my room. The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner is my only companion. I enjoy being alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I shouldn't get used to missing her, but I’m used to it again. I wish she were here.

I decide to get dressed and quickly leave the house. For once the angel and devil on my shoulder agree, pressing me to find her but for two different reasons. One says to forgive and forget, the other craves to deliver punishment and commit sins. 

I tell myself I’m going hunting instead. Rabbits and squirrels fall prey to my clutches and I feel a pang in my heart when I drink their blood, but I have to survive somehow. Before I knew it, it was dark outside and the moon looked lonely, almost like it was crying in the night sky. 

I couldn’t find her. I searched all day, but the countryside is vast, and I’m drenched in sweat. Checking the time on my watch, I see I’m late for my next fight. 

Shit. 

It’s fine. She’s an Original Hybrid and can take care of herself. 

Rushing back to the barn, I circle to find the angled cellar door. I pull the handle, descend downstairs, and run into one of the bouncers. Aside from cage fighting, the underground establishment is used for clubbing and drinking most days of the week. I hear the heavy bass from the music, feeling the ground shake from the vibrations. I greet the bouncer with a handshake, but he stares at me like I had pissed in his thermos. 

“Ms. Lim wants to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. He gestures his bald head towards the door that says “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” on the right, so I head there. There’s a narrow hallway and at the end of the corridor is her office. I slowly open the door. 

“Jungkook,” Her nasal voice already has a trace of annoyance as I poke my head in. She’s sitting behind her desk with two henchmen about twice my size, both dressed in suits with their hands clasped in front. “Come in please.”

I do what she says and she points to the chair in front, so I sit. “Hello, Ms. Lim. I know I’m late, I’m sorry. Can I have the next fight?”

Her mouth twitches. “No. We need to talk.”

She snaps her fingers and the two bodyguards stand on either side of me, each placing a firm hand on my shoulders. When I squirm, they hold me tighter as if cementing me still. I let out a nervous laugh, feigning innocence. “What’s going on?”

The middle-aged woman adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses, scoffing like I was being impolite in the presence of royalty. “I run a tight-knit business, Jungkook. My wolves… They follow me. They listen to me. Because I’m honest and upfront. I don’t dish out bullshit.”

She stands, placing her hands behind her back as she circles the front of her desk, closing the gap between us. 

“Wolves like to fight. It’s in our nature to have some aggression. Here you can release it in a healthy, controlled environment,” she says. “When you first arrived, I liked you right away. The sheer arrogance you had, the drive to win—you were a natural for the ring. People bet on you because you never let them down.” She leans against her desk, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose bridge to look at me. “You don’t want to let people down, right?”

The bait can’t be more obvious, but I indulge her anyway. “Of course not.”

My answer seems to placate her and she puts her finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Then I need you to tell me the truth. What are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m a wolf. Just like you, ma’am.” Not like that was a complete lie. I am a wolf. Half.

She grips my chin harder, her pupils blown so wide that they overtook her irises. “Is that all?”

“Look, it’s clear you know something so why don’t you…” She whips out a pistol from underneath the slit in her long dress and I stare down the barrel without moving a muscle. 

“There’s no fear in your eyes. Probably because you know and I know that this crummy little thing won’t kill you.” She pulls the trigger, but the shot is empty. I try my best not to scowl as she puts it away. “One of my men ran into a strange girl yesterday. She was hysterical, almost aggressive in asking about you.”

“Make your point.”

“She told me you were a hybrid. Is that true?”

I lean back against the chair, my shoulders less tense now that the secret is out. “Yes. So what? I’m still part wolf.”

“You’re half-wolf,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn about you being a hybrid. But I do care that you weren’t fully transparent with me. And people talk. Word gets around I’m letting a hybrid take all the winnings and my business is done.”

“No one has to know.”

“Oh darling… she blabbed all over town about you. I’m sure everyone already knows. But I have a deal for you if you want to stay.”

Judging from her toothy smile, the chances of this deal being more beneficial for her than me are high. “What deal?”

“Do you know how much money I can make if I put two hybrids against each other?” she asks, flashing a smirk. “Especially with a pretty little thing like her against someone like you. The crowd would go wild.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass. She’s not into cage fighting and I don’t hit women.”

“Who says she’s not?” I don’t like her tone and the insinuation behind it. “Darling, who do you think is taking your place right now?”

“What?”

“[Y/N] is fighting her heart out at this very moment. The wolves adore her. Probably because I said whoever beats her gets to breed her.”

This time I force myself to stand, knocking out both men when they attempt to grab me again with a one-two combo. They collapse with a resounding thud, and I head straight for Ms. Lim. I’m holding her dress collar and lifting her in the air, but she remains unphased.

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

“Where is she?!” I shout, not caring that I spit on her. 

“She turned you, right? How’d she do it? Did you two have sex?”

“I’m not asking you again,” I warn. She wraps her hand around my wrist, her irises shifting to a muted gold as she pries my hold off her, dislocating my hand. I curse in pain, fully prepared to retaliate, but she snaps her fingers three times. 

I hear footsteps from behind me and the door opens with a loud slam. Looking over my shoulder, I see about fifty men in black suits who are bigger than me enter the room. They all bear matching stoic expressions, but their fists are up and ready as their pointed glares shoot in my direction. 

“There isn’t much information on hybrids and experimenting on an Original is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I’m sure my boys would love to breed her. Then business would be booming with hybrid fighters at my side!” Ms. Lim cries.

My blood is boiling and I swear I’m seeing red. I snap my wrist back into place without breaking eye contact and backhand her across the face. She falls to the floor, stunned, holding the side of her cheek. “I thought you said you don’t hit women!”

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

Three men grab me—one at each arm and the last holding my waist. The others line up, each taking a jab at me. The first punch is aimed at my stomach. One breaks my nose. Another hits me square in the jaw. I see stars by the time Ms. Lim stands, holding her hand up for them to stop. 

“How dare you? Oh, I’m going to make sure your little girlfriend is knocked up. Poor thing has no clue what plans I have for her.”

I muster enough strength to spit at her, flicking droplets of blood onto her face. She shrieks in disgust and slaps me in return. I only laugh like a madman.

“Good luck… she’s infertile…” I say, trying to find my breath. “And my girl can take care of herself. She won’t lose.”

“It’s okay. I can still find plenty of uses for her. If my boys can’t breed her, they can still fuck her once they’re done with you. I bet she screams pretty,” Ms. Lim says.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” She snaps her fingers again, prompting the last man who punched me to step forward. He pulls out something gold from his pocket, dangling it in front of me like a carrot for a rabbit. My face falls when I recognize the double moon charms. “Mr. Ahn here is the first one that defeated [Y/N]. He’ll get to have her first.”

The douchebag has a devilish grin as he slips the necklace over my head. He pats my cheek twice before smacking it hard on the third. I bare my teeth, more than ready to kick his ass, but other men are holding me still.

“I’m going to check the status of our beautiful prize and see if she’s ready for Mr. Ahn,” Ms. Lim declares, exiting the room with the sleazy bastard. Right before she closes the door, she sticks her head in and adds, “Whoever gets that necklace from him gets to have her next.”

The door shuts and I’m shouting curses at her until my throat is hoarse. All sense of self-control goes out the window as I unleash my wrath, my anger blinding me as my fists take control. In cage fights, I’ve had to hold back. But now? I’m ready to demolish anyone who gets in my way.

Your Point of View

After Jungkook kicked you out, you roamed the area for a place to stay. With your abilities, you had endless options: an inn, a motel, a farmhouse, or even the forest if you prefer. Heartbroken, you planned to wolf out until a middle-aged woman found you on the side of the road. 

She drove beside you, parked her car, and rolled down her windows. Your first instinct was to walk away, but she mentioned Jungkook and how she was his boss. She told you how her place wasn’t too far away, offering a place for you to stay the night. 

Questions kept pouring out of you, but she wouldn’t answer until you agreed to her offer. Your guard was up the whole night despite the fact she was a werewolf too. She doted on you with tea and snickerdoodles, but you didn’t dare take a bite until after she did.

Though you were on edge most of the night, her aura was warm, like a grandmother’s love or what you could only imagine as such. Your grandparents tried to eradicate you for being a hybrid, believing that your existence was an abomination. It’s funny how Ms. Lim, someone not blood-related, treated you far better than they ever did.

She answered your questions about Jungkook, but you didn’t dare overshare about your relationship with him. She persuaded you to join her the next day at work, offering the gym and free training sessions with her best fighters. You weren’t sure at first, but then ultimately gave in.

The next day Ms. Lim gave you a tour of the underground cellar and you couldn’t believe how massive it was. Everyone you encountered greeted you like one of the family, and you got to learn new fighting techniques with her bodyguards. 

When it was nighttime, Ms. Lim suggested you fight for real. You worried it’d be unfair, but she assured you the opponents were more than willing. 

Your first opponent is a man who looks like the descendant of a Viking. His muscles are so large you can see the veins bulging underneath his skin. He gives you a crooked smile, which you would’ve found somewhat attractive if he hadn’t made a sexist comment the next second.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the ring? Hasn’t no one swept you off your feet and wed you yet?” You make the first move and use his words against him, sweeping him off his feet with your leg. He falls flat on his back and laughs while the crowd cheers. “It’s a shame. You’d make a great mother.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, sounding extra snarky. 

“Come on. You know you can’t beat me.”

The man got back up only to be taken down again with a skillful spin kick, causing his back to slam against the cage. You smirk as his expression shifts to anger, and he tackles you to the opposite side like a mad bull. Grunts come from both sides as you use your elbow, jabbing the top of his head until he lets go. 

You jump high and hang from the top of the cage, using your strong thighs to hold his head hostage. His oxygen depletes as his face turns purple, clawing at your legs but you don’t let up. His hands fall to his sides before his body collapses. Only then do you let go and land in a cool pose, feeling like a superhero. 

The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down like a kid who scored the winning goal. “I did it!”

You see why Jungkook loved this place so much. It’s an indescribable feeling, a rush of exhilaration as glory consumes you. 

Once you see Ms. Lim and her main bodyguard, you step out of the ring and greet her. “Ms. Lim, did you see? I won!”

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, giving you a toothy grin. “I know. I told you you’d do well. Let me show you your prize.”

You gasp. “I get a prize?” 

She leads you through the sea of fans. “Of course. Everyone gets compensated.”

You enter a door that leads you to a narrow hallway. The lights were dim, but it was enough for you to see something horrific. From where you stand to the door at the end are unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Some are slumped against the wall, others are flat on their back or stomachs, each carrying some deformity. There’s blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t gorey enough to be deemed a bloodbath (though the sight was still alarming).

“What the fuck happened?” you ask. Ms. Lim screams in shock when she steps in, covering her mouth as she stumbles back. If not for Mr. Ahn, she probably would’ve fallen.

The door at the end of the corridor opens and you hear ragged breathing. There you see Jungkook stagger out, barely able to hold himself up with one arm. He has cuts on his face and a black eye, so his vision is halved. His tank top is in shreds, the fabric hanging by a thread as it dangles from his bruised body. 

He regains part of his strength once he sees you. “[Y/N]?”

You rush over to catch him before he falls. “Jungkook, what happened?!”

He’s putting his entire weight on you, close to fainting. But one look at Ms. Lim and he’s fired up. “That bitch… I’m gonna kill her…”

Ms. Lim wastes no time, urging Mr. Ahn to run away with her while you’re left bamboozled. “Ms. Lim?”

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

Jungkook can’t fight his body’s limits anymore. The last thing he sees is darkness.

Sunlight pours through the window, stirring Jungkook from his slumber. He slowly opens one eye, surprised to see snow-covered trees and clear skies outside. In a daze, he sits up, holding his side as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He’s quick to notice his upper body has been covered in gauze and bandages. 

Whoever did it was meticulous. His chest and shoulders are tightly bound in layers, protecting his battered torso. The bandages crisscrossed over his ribcage, some were wrapped around his biceps, with the gauze extending down to his forearms. Bloodstains seeped through while he was asleep, but they don’t warrant any concern for now.

Jungkook touches his face, finding the cut on his cheek and upper lip taken care of. His other eye is no longer swollen, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He sees he’s in a cozy room, the wood ceiling and floors making him believe he’s at a lodge. There’s a large window to his right as well as a nightstand. The lamp sitting atop casts a warm golden glow, and Jungkook turns it off by pulling the string. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Jungkook? Are you awake?”

He lays back down, covering his body with the duvet and closing his eyes as if he had never woken up. The doorknob jostles as you enter the room, holding a cup of water. You see his state and tip-toe closer, setting the mug on the nightstand. 

Staring at people while they sleep is creepy, but Jungkook looks angelic. Even if his face was marred, it didn’t stunt his beauty. If anything, his injuries made him more beautiful, the bandages being proof of his protectiveness. What he was protecting, you don’t know. 

“When you wake up, we seriously have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, pulling a nearby stool to sit on. “I don’t know why you did what you did. Ms. Lim and her men were so nice to me. She let me stay at her place after you kicked me out.”

You stick your tongue at him like a brat but end up giggling at your immaturity. 

“You were right to kick me out though,” you say, sighing. “Even with the best intentions, I can’t make things right. I’m sorry. Trust me, no one is more frustrated with me than me. That’s why when Ms. Lim suggested for me to fight, I didn’t hesitate.”

You ball your fists. “But it was so fun. I won my fight like bam! Bam! Bam!” You punch the air at each onomatopoeia, and Jungkook has to refrain from laughing. Why were you so cute?

“I get why you do it now. I’ve always had to fight for survival. I didn’t think it could be… gratifying. Anyway, I support your cage-fighting career,” You purse your lips. “But I guess you don’t have one anymore, considering what you did back there. I’m honestly confused. Why did you hurt them? I chased after Ms. Lim and uh… well, she burned your house down.”

You wait a second as if he’d respond. “She told us to never come back with no explanation… I didn’t even get my prize for winning,” you huff. 

Jungkook grunted, almost like he didn’t like what he was hearing. He turns onto his side, so he’d be facing away from you and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. The spot where he once lay had something gold in it. You carefully pick it up and caress the double moon charms with your thumb.

“My necklace…”

You stare at the back of his head, the gears in your head turning as you try to put the puzzle pieces together. Upon closer inspection, you notice faint bloodstains on the back of the charms and some on the chain.

“Did one of those men have my necklace? You beat up thirty men for it?”

“It was around fifty, but who’s counting?”

Your breath hitches, wondering if you were hearing things. Jungkook slowly sits up, resting his back against the headboard and flashing a cheeky grin. Heat spreads to the apples of your cheeks. 

“Were you awake this whole time?”

“Maybe.” He gives you a quick once over. “Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”

“Hmm? I’m fine. I should be asking you that. You took a beating and I’m still confused as to why.”

He slumps against the headboard, sagging like a dramatic blob. “God, you’re dense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? My necklace is all bloody… was this the prize Ms. Lim intended to give me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so far back they might as well get stuck. “Ms. Lim’s prize wasn’t the necklace. It was you. You were her men’s prize after the fight. She planned to let them have their way with you.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, your heart heavier than an anchor in a bottomless sea. Jungkook sees how you clutch the necklace in your fist, wishing he hadn’t revealed the truth so bluntly. 

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No. I was naive. After what happened with my grandmother, I thought Ms. Lim was different. Anyway,” you say, changing the subject. “That’s why you did what you did?”

“I thought she had you trapped somewhere. Or that without your necklace, you were at a disadvantage. She told me Mr. Ahn defeated you and I just went berserk at the thought of something happening to you.”

It’s hard not to see the love he has for you in those beautiful eyes of his. “I never fought Mr. Ahn, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve won. I’m freakin’ awesome in the ring.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I know. I never doubted your skills. She riled me up and I assumed the worst.”

“Well… Thank you for looking out for me. I’m glad to have my necklace back. I thought I lost it for good.”

“I thought I lost you.”

Time comes to a standstill. No more words are shared, yet so much is being said through simple eye contact, an unspoken language only the two of you understand. Your hearts are burning, aching with desire, but you don’t dare act on it. You don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to maintain restraint. 

“Can I put it on you?” he asks, pointing to the piece of jewelry in your hand. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” A white glow emits from your fist and when you open your palm, Jungkook sees the necklace is spotless. You hand it to him and shift positions, so your back is towards him. He scoots closer, his legs now dangling off the bed. 

When he brushes your hair away, your body tenses up. You see the gold chain from above before it settles on your collarbone. Jungkook leans in, getting a better view of the clasp but struggles to attach it. Seconds tick by like hours, but you don’t mind how long he takes. His hot breath on the nape of your neck is distracting you anyway.

“Almost got it…” he mumbles. And thank goodness too because you didn’t realize you were holding your breath the entire time. Once he’s finished, he leans back but you turn your head to the side and almost end up kissing him.

“Oh sorry, I—” You move away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place. 

“Stay.”

Stay still? Stay with him? Whatever he meant, it sounded like a command, a challenge, a test. You’re entranced by how close he is, your nose about to touch his, and his lips—fuck. They’re drawing near, but he stops a centimeter away and smirks like a damn tease. You swear you’re on fire, the heat radiating off his body further exacerbating things. 

His eyes droop down, but it’s not to your lips. Rather, he takes his free hand and holds the double moon charms between his forefinger and thumb, sliding it until it’s positioned in the center. 

“There,” he says, still far too close. There’s a deep yearning in his eyes, a passion he longs to share with you, but he’s holding himself back. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You pout. “What, suddenly you’re okay with me around?”

“Seeing you drives me mad, but not seeing you makes me insane,” An aw almost slips out of you, but you nod instead. “I’m trying so hard to hate you…” he whispers.

You match his volume. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier than admitting the opposite.” He finally releases his hold and leans back, allowing you to regain a semblance of sanity. “So where are we exactly?”

You fiddle with your necklace and try not to dwell on his words. “I used a teleportation spell and it took us here.”

“Randomly?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast a spell to take me to Professor Jin. He’s here with Namjoon. They’re on vacation.” 

All of a sudden Jungkook groans and he’s clutching his abdomen. “Ah fuck...”

You jump out of your seat to examine him closer. “What’s going on?”

Sweat forms on his upper lip, his body temperature rising steadily as if someone turned on the heater to its max. It’s an all too familiar feeling. He laughs at the horrid timing, but it exacerbates his pain.

“I’m going to need you to learn a new spell,” he says, panting so much you fear he’d pass out.

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to go into a rut,” he answers, glaring at you like you’ve made a grave mistake, “and I don’t have boxing to distract me anymore.”

“Do you want me to help—” 

“No,” You can’t help but feel offended, and undesired, but he adds, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. It’s not right.”

“Okay…” You rub your arm and like the keen observer he was, he tacks on another thing and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel better or himself. 

“I don’t give consent because it’s out of my control. Our time together shouldn’t be influenced or pressured because of other circumstances.”

You almost laugh at the hilarity of that statement. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? Everything always comes with a condition. This is exactly why I left…”

Jungkook’s pained expression morphs into something worse—dismay. You go for damage control, wishing you could take those words back and shove them far into the depths of your mind where they couldn’t hurt anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, full of regret, “I shouldn’t have said that. If you say no, I understand. It’s a no.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re wrong. Can you go get Jin please?”

Jungkook’s Point Of View

I want to tear these bandages off. And then my skin. It’s too damn hot and the timer on my sanity is dwindling. The snow outside looks inviting and is the only blanket I want covering me. 

A knock on the door garners my attention and [Y/N] rushes in, carrying something silver between her fingers.

“Sorry for the wait, I got it!” Fuck, she smells incredible. There’s nothing on Earth that can compare to her delicate, sweet aroma. It’s my Kryptonite, my guilty pleasure. Once she draws near, I pin her to the bed, ignoring the soreness of the muscles I was supposed to be recuperating. “Jungkook?”

I snuggle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like some deranged pervert as I squeeze her hip. The closest description is like a honey-sweet fruit, ripe for picking. But fruit bruises easily when they fall into the wrong hands. And now she’s in mine.

She whimpers softly, and it only further fuels my arousal. “It shouldn’t be this easy yet your hold over me is… pathetic.”

I hover over her face and bring a hand up to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. Cute. 

“Do you know what filthy things I want to do to you? I’ve been fantasizing for years about this moment,” I say, unable to contain my smirk. Her chest heaves against mine and the panic that flashes across her face is adorable. I loosen my grip a bit so she can reply. 

“Tell me then,” she breathes and I chuckle at how wobbly her voice sounds. 

“I wanna fuck you like I hate you. It’s not going to be that tender bullshit, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to use you and all your holes until you’re screaming and I’m the only one that occupies your thoughts, so you can see the hell you put me through when you left. I’m going to bring you to heaven only to drag you back down to Earth and make you sin harder.”

I can smell much more than fear coming from her silence. Her fingers are clutching what I can now see is a silver body chain. She’s fast, but I’m faster as I pin her wrist down before she can put it on me. Her hand is hanging over the edge of the bed and I grip her wrist, upping the pressure and twisting slightly until she groans in pain, dropping the chain. It falls with a soft clink and I give her an amused grin.

“Was that mediocre thing supposed to quell my urges?” I taunt.

“Ideally, yes,” she remarks, unable to hide her bratty attitude. “Let me put it on you.”

“No.”

She gives me a look like I’m a bad child about to be put on time-out. Maybe I want to be bad. “Jungkook.”

“Come on… you said it yourself. You want to help,” I use my thigh to part her legs. “I’m in desperate need of it.”

She scoots her body upwards to get away, but like a parasite, I latch on and follow, pressing my entire body weight on her. “Jungkook, no. You said no. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but what if it is?” She stops squirming and my eyes widen like I’ve gone insane, glad to have her attention. “What if this dark, twisted, horny part of me is who I am? What if I want to ravage you and my rut is simply pushing me to finally not hold back on loving you?”

“You… love me?”

Somehow that question pulls me from the depths of lust for a split second. “I never stopped.”

There’s a silent period where we stare at each other. Sometimes I think we’d hold the world record for how long one can zone out, lost in a world of our own. But my needs resurface, clouding my mind with crazed lust. I’m corrupted by something I can’t control and no matter how hard I resist, she’ll be in the crossfire.

She must have noticed her small window of opportunity because she pushed me off with her inhumane strength. I bounce on the mattress when I land on my back as she scrambles to grab the chain off the floor. She makes a break for the door, but I block it, tackling her to the ground so I can feel her soft body against mine again. 

We tussle and roll around like animals, the chain flying across the floor during the scuffle. It’s a wild game of Capture The Flag, each of us diving for the coveted item. She’s on her stomach, crawling towards it until I take her ankles and drag her backward, cackling like a madman. And like in horror movies, she screams and squirms, kicking me until I let go. 

She drags her body forward, snatches the chain, flips around, and clamps her thighs around my head. Her strong muscles could probably break a watermelon, but I welcome the constriction.

“Ooh, yes, make it hurt,” I choke out, wheezing out a short laugh. Revulsion in her scowl, she cages me in tighter, and I pull back so she slides towards me. Using my remaining strength, I lift her so she’s now perched atop my shoulders, her sweet pussy right where I want it. I dart my tongue out to lick a stripe, the barrier of her leggings so thin that she yelps from the contact.

I’m on my knees and I move forward, pressing her back against the wall. It supports her weight and I pin her hands down, so she can’t sneak the chain on me. She’s shouting at me, but I only hum in return, so she can feel the vibrations of my lips close to her lower ones. 

“Jungkook, let me go!”

“I can already taste you… such arrogance to think you can handle me.”

I look up through her thighs, earning a sharp inhale from her. “Trust me… I’ve been holding back.”

She chants foreign words under her breath and my ears soon discover a sharp ringing noise, making my brain feel like it’s being shredded by a cheese grater. I hold my head with both hands, toppling over and releasing her as we both fall to the floor. When the cacophony subsides, I see she’s standing above me with the lamp. She’s ruthless as she smashes it against my head, the glass shards scattering everywhere. 

I lay on my stomach, dazed, and she put the chain on me hastily. It glows as it erases all forms of rage and lust, and my mind clears while my soul aligns. That’s when the painful sensations of my injuries I had ignored earlier hit me in full force. 

With impeccable timing, the door to our room swings open, and in comes Jin and Namjoon. Jin has his arms up in a fighting pose, his hands encasing two pink orbs prepared for attack. Namjoon has his crossbow gun pointed at me until [Y/N] waves him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

The orbs flicker out and Namjoon lowers his weapon, being the first to speak. “What happened?”

“Things got… rough. I put the chain on him. He’s fine now.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Can someone please get the first aid kit? I’m bleeding again…”

Your Point of View

Jin’s making it a point to be hospitable. He dragged you around the lodge, indulging you in all the amenities the lodge offers. From paying for your food and drinks to complimentary snowboarding, it was almost like he was overcompensating. 

While he was gracefully swerving down the hill, you spent most of your time falling face-first into the snow, frustrated at the bulky clothes you had on. You called it quits and he finally yielded to your pleas.

Back at the lodge, you shed yourself of your multiple layers, feeling like an onion. At least now you can caramelize by the fireplace in the lobby while sipping on a piping-hot cup of cocoa. 

Jin makes his presence known, plopping himself onto the same futon where you sat with a refreshed “Ah, hot cocoa. Delicious!”

You roll your eyes when he holds his mug out, but you clink your cup against his anyway. “I hope you and Namjoon had your fun in the shower. That’s a nasty hickey.”

He coughs, adjusting his turtleneck to cover up said blemish. “Sorry. I didn’t know you would need me.”

“It’s fine,” you say, glancing around for any unwanted spectators. You whisper the next part. “I grabbed your spellbook and did it myself.”

He bears a proud smile, looking like he is about to deliver well-deserved praises when suddenly, his expression falls. Setting down his beverage, he seemed rather pale despite being near the fireplace. He looks up at the night sky and you follow his gaze. “Oh shit…”

You set down your drink too, paying no mind as it sloshes enough to spill over. “Jin… what’s wrong?”

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

He shoots up like a rocket and sprints upstairs to his room. You follow at once, off-put by his erratic behavior. He’s found his spellbook on the bed where you left it, flipping through the pages so quickly, you thought they’d rip. Once he settles on the desired section, he shoves the book in your face. 

“Is this the spell you used?!”

You eye the page in its fancy script, seeing the same picture of a wolf howling under the moon. “Yes. It says Binding Chain at the top and I read it. It suppresses a male’s rut.”

“Did you see the fine print?”

“There’s a fine print?” you echo. Skimming the page, you squint at the very bottom to see an anecdote at the bottom marked with an asterisk. You read it out loud. “On the night of a full moon, the binding chain’s powers are reversed. Rather than suppressing a rut, the male’s urges will be amplified…”

The book shuts and you’re greeted by Jin’s stern look. It’s the same one he gave you that time you set his hair on fire by accident. “The closer it gets to midnight, the more unhinged Jungkook will be. This is why you should’ve asked me for help.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was in pain and you were bumping uglies with Namjoon!”

“Spells like this are tricky, especially for novices. We don’t even know if you did it right.”

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

A concerned voice from the doorway calls out to you and Jin. “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

You both turn to see Namjoon in his winter gear, covered in snow like he was a dessert dusted with powdered sugar. Jin walks over and brushes some off his furry hat. “[Y/N] used the wrong spell for Jungkook. His rut is about to come back tenfold and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s not my fault,” you argue. “If you and he weren’t fucking each other, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Okay… this is horrible timing,” Namjoon says with a forced awkward laugh. Jin holds him by the shoulders.

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

“I… lost something important when we got here. Jungkook and I went out to look for it. I gave up, but he’s stubborn and is still out there.”

You look out the window and see the snowfall getting heavier, each flake larger and more frequent as it piles on the thick blanket that already covers the ground. Visibility was diminishing and you could barely see the outline of the moon in the sky. 

“I’m going to get him,” you say, determined. They look at you like you have three heads. “I’m the only one who can handle him on a night like this.”

“It’s dangerous. The snow is getting worse out there,” Namjoon warns.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that he’s still out there? He may be immortal, but he has limits too.”

Namjoon recognizes your stubbornness; you share that with Jungkook. He pulls out his phone, hastily texts something, and sends it, which triggers a chime on your phone. 

“There’s a cabin out there that I use on my missions sometimes. You’ll find a cage in the basement that can hold Jungkook for the night. Food, water, clothes, sedatives, weapons—you name it.”

He offers you his crossbow gun, but you decline. “I can get through to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But… It doesn’t feel right to hurt him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Stay safe. We’ll come find you in the morning.”

Winter is the superior season, some would say. Because with the cold, you can layer clothes nonstop until you’re warm. Newsflash: that’s a lie. You’re freezing your ass off despite your best efforts to combat the frost, but Mother Nature couldn’t resist challenging your limits.  

The weather has taken a turn for the worse as snow swirls around you, making it difficult to see or hear anything. You trudge through it, the flame in your palm being the only source of light and heat as harsh gusts of wind threaten to extinguish it. 

Your magic was technically infinite, considering your necklace was a conductor for it. The jewelry siphons the magic from your hybrid body and allows you to use it like a witch would. However, like with most things, if you overdo it, it drains your energy and weakens its potency. 

When you reach the forest, the wind howls through the trees as your breath comes out in heavy puffs. Each step you take sinks deeper than the previous one until you’re knee-deep in snow. The ground is uneven and your steps slow because even the slightest misstep could be your last. With no one around for miles, this was not the way you wanted to go out. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but the flame flickers until darkness remains. 

“No… no… please…” You wrap your arms around yourself, the biting cold unforgiving. A rustle in the distance alerts your fight-or-flight and you scan your surroundings, seeing a dark silhouette who you can only assume is… “Jungkook?”

Whoever it was burst into a sudden sprint in the opposite direction. Your body has a mind of its own, chasing him down without hesitation. You reach a clearing where his broad back faces you, the moon casting a soft glow behind his figure. He turns around, revealing his ruby red eyes with streaks of gold, which sparkle like luster dust in water. 

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward. 

“Don’t come closer!” he barks, startling you to retract back. The hurt in your eyes breaks him, but he couldn’t bear to be a burden for you to shoulder. “I feel like I’m going crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s the full moon. The body chain is making things worse. I can—”

“No!” He bares his teeth and bends his knees as if preparing to pounce. “You need to leave. Now!”

Falling onto all fours, he lets out a strangled groan, cursing like there was no tomorrow. His bones snap, pop out of place, and lengthen to create a new foundation for his werewolf form. It was like all his organs were set ablaze, the searing pain shooting throughout his body. You deny his request and take another step. 

“Stay… away!” he orders, his voice roughed and strained.

His head hangs low, clawing the snow beneath him. Though shapeshifting was a great distraction, doing so during a rut could have unpredictable circumstances. It was far too dangerous; he knew better but was desperate for relief. 

“Run…” he breathes, lifting his head. Your legs tremble from his unwavering, lethal gaze. “Run!!!” His canines peek through when he growls at you once more and you are hit with the severity of the situation. Fear strikes through you like a javelin and combined with your rush of adrenaline, you escape the premises. 

Everything is a blur as you zig-zag through the snow-capped trees in the forest. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn to the point where you’re about to vomit. Despite how numb your fingers are, you check your phone, looking up the location of the cabin. It’s not too far away and if you can manage to lure Jungkook there, he’ll be safe for the night.

An eerie howl startles you and you trek forward, looking over your shoulder every so often. It’s not until you come across a line of forestry, where there’s a gap in the middle of two trees. Upon closer inspection, you squint at the darkness that sits between them, and two glowy orbs greet you. 

A low snarl sends chills up your spine as two black paws emerge into the moonlight before their true form follows. You’re face to face with the big black wolf, its eyes glowing with feral intensity. The body chain’s magic allowed for the accessory to enlarge, accommodating Jungkook’s new size. 

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t respond, almost like that name was foreign to him. All he does is crouch, and you start to regret not having a weapon. With a growl, he lunges at you, powerful muscles rippling under his fur. You barely dodge in time, but his claws graze your arm, ripping through my coat and drawing blood. 

Damn. I’m getting sloppy. I need blood.

You clutch onto the wound, hissing at him as your eyes shift to fiery gold. “Stop! Jungkook, it’s me!”

He circles you like a shark, instilling more fear before he pounces again. His heavy weight forces your body to topple backward, the snow cushioning your fall, and soon stained a vivid crimson. Jungkook had bitten your shoulder this time, his fangs sinking deep. 

Not even your blood-curdling scream dissuades him from prying his jaw off. You feel the prick of tears behind your eye, but you push through it, using your remaining good arm to punch him. The wolf is hurled about twenty feet away and you force yourself up.

“Okay… it’s clear you’re more beast than man right now…” you say, panting as more blood trickles onto the snow. The wolf shakes its head and slowly rises, its predatory gaze stripping you of your fortitude. 

Just then a deep rumble beneath your feet alerts you to look up, where the heart of the mountain was. The signs are there: the snowpack drifting, ominous cracks in the ground, and a thunderous roar as snow cascades down the landform.

“Shit…” you say, running in the opposite direction. “Come on! Chase me!”

Thankfully you don’t have to ask twice. Jungkook’s hot on your trail as the snow is on his. The ground continues to shake, the avalanche's roar deafening, drowning out all other sounds. Both your lives are at stake and you run to the cabin up ahead, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

As you reach the door, you swipe the keycard Namjoon lent you, the faint click giving you a moment of reprieve. You throw the door open at the same time Jungkook tackles you from behind. You stumble forward, his weight crushing you as he slashes your back with his sharp claws. 

Now you’re pissed.

You flip onto your back, clutching his paws while his jaw snaps towards your face, spit flying everywhere. 

“God, Jungkook! Get a grip!” You grunt as you exert your muscles, throwing him into the living room area. A wooden table is smashed into bits and the TV screen has a crack down the middle, but you don’t care. You kick the door shut just as the avalanche slams into the ground outside, its force shaking the cabin walls. 

The noise is overwhelming, but it distracts the beast long enough for you to search for the basement. The cabin’s small space makes it easy as one narrow door sits in the corner, so you try your luck. There’s a set of steep, wooden stairs and you descend quickly, seeing dim recess ceiling lights that cast a soft yellow glow. 

Unlike the cabin, the basement was underground and wide, with ample space for the cage Namjoon had promised. It’s in the furthest left corner with thick chains attached to the floor and ceiling. A workbench greets you once you reach the last step, filled with various weapons and tranquilizers you were all too familiar with.

Due to his hybrid nature, your best bet is to grab the syringe with vervain and wolfsbane. Reassurance is but a fleeting moment when Jungkook descends the stairs too, determined to finish you off. 

He bites your leg this time, and you jam the syringe into his neck simultaneously. Once the wolf loses consciousness, you stumble backward and hit your head on the edge of the workbench, drifting into darkness.

Jungkook’s Point of View

Something wet touches my fingers and it stirs me awake. My muscles are screaming, feeling like I have been hit by a semi-truck. I open my eyes, forcing myself to sit up and look at my hands. 

“Oh my god…”

Red is all I see. I’m covered in it. My lips taste it. But I don’t remember how it got there and that scares me. However, I look over to see [Y/N]’s unconscious body next to me. The blood is hers, pooling from her head and her body looks like a corpse from a crime scene. I’m terrified now, crawling over to her while my body shakes. 

“No… please.” 

I saw the gruesome claw marks on her arm, the nasty bites on her shoulder and leg, and her head wound that was still bleeding. I lift her head first, then her back, seeing the scratches there too. I don’t know what to do other than hold her close, listening for signs of life. It’s faint, but she’s breathing. 

“Who did this to you?” I breathe, but the question is stupid. I’m covered in evidence of my crimes, a sin with no solution. Her face looks sickly, so I bite my wrist and put it against her lips, forcing her to drink my blood for sustenance. 

I choke out a sob when I don’t see a difference.

“I’m so sorry…” I kiss the top of her head, praying to anyone who hears it, to bring her back to me. 

“Jungkook…”

I thought I was hearing things until she calls for me again. It’s a fucking miracle. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh… haven’t you heard of kissing a person’s boos-boos?” Her lips curl into a faint smile and I’m thrown for a loop. How can she speak so lightly about the horrors I’ve committed?

“You must have a concussion. I need to patch you up.”

“No. Kiss my wounds, silly. Just like you did to my head.”

I was too distraught to realize, but the blood on the rug we were on had vanished. Her hair no longer smells of iron either and realization dawns on me.

“Okay. Let me help you get out of your clothes first.”

It’s not a smooth process, but she handles it like a champ as I maneuver her coat, shirt, and tank top off. I pause every so often when she winces, making sure she’s comfortable before I move on. Her boots come off next and then her leggings, leaving her only in her undergarments. 

Lying her flat on her back, I get on top and kiss her shoulder area first. It’s a magical sight watching the wound seal itself as new skin regenerates while the blood evaporates. She coos at the relief, giving me a warm smile. 

“That feels nice.”

I head for her arm next, giving it several smooches to cover the claw marks. Each one repairs itself the same way. I lean back on my knees, holding her leg up until it reaches my lips and I leave another kiss there. Her eyes shimmer in excitement as do mine when the bite heals. 

“Can you turn around for me?” I ask. She gets on all fours, exposing her back to me. It was the nastiest injury yet, the laceration deep and red. I don’t care and kiss every inch of her skin until it goes away, noticing how she shivers each time. 

Once she’s fully healed, I see a cage in the corner and eye the chains inside. I get up and head there, frantically trying to get the cuffs on. She follows me and I curse at my shaky hands for being too slow. 

“What are you doing now?” she asks as if it’s not obvious.

“Damn it all, why can’t I get this on?!” She places her hands on mine, steadying them until they stop trembling. “[Y/N], please. I need to be chained up. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I almost killed you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine. I knew the risks.”

“Why didn’t you beat me senseless? I deserved it.”

She shakes her head, still able to give me a soft smile as if I didn’t try to maul her to death however long ago. “Because your rut… it’s not easy to deal with. And I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Besides, I messed up on the spell.”

She points to the body chain on me. “On a full moon, it amplifies your rut. Not suppress it.”

I drop the cuffs and grab the body chain instead, ready to yank it off when she snatches my wrists. 

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

My eyes widen. “This thing almost got you killed.”

“It’s hot on you.”

“Are you okay? Is your head fully healed? Why are you—”

She pecks me on the lips to shut me up. It’s cute, sweet, and simple. Sometimes I wish we were simple. 

“Jungkook… ever since I saw you at the wedding, I haven’t been able to heal properly,” she confesses. 

My hands drop to my sides. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. But whenever I got a cut, it healed but not as fast as it usually did. And I thought about when I got hurt at the wedding, how you kissed my hand, and how fast it healed then. This has never happened to me before, but I realized… I can’t be without you.”

She caresses the side of my face and I shiver at her gentle touch, placing a chaste kiss on her palm. “No… you were right to leave. I’m dangerous.”

A finger comes up to my lips. “Shh… our fates are entwined whether you like it or not, you stupid bastard,” I can’t help but chuckle and she giggles. It lights up my world. “When you said you never stopped loving me back at the lodge… were you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Her expression is teetering between fondness and confusion. “Sorry, that’s not romantic, huh?”

“It is to me. I love you too.”

Her confession triggers something in me. It's a carnal, animalistic need and I realize my rut is surging back with renewed intensity. 

“My love, I need you to make a choice,” I say with labored breathing. Sweat coats my hair, matting it to my forehead. My body feels like I’m being incinerated inside out. “I want you permanently. Not temporarily. Body and soul. Your devotion. If you stay…”

“I’ll stay. I promise,” she says without a trace of hesitation. But I can’t help but be reminded of the past.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?”

She ponders her answer but then says, “Because when I’m not focused on my future, I’m focused on ours.” 

It brings me immense joy, but my lust drowns it out. 

“Okay. We’re going to need a safe word. Or you need to promise you’ll defend yourself against me by any means if it becomes too much.”

“Jungkook—”

“I mean it. Because everything I said at the lodge was true. Everything.”

She wets her lips at the memory, which tempts me with depravity. “Are you okay if I’m still infertile?”

“I never minded it. Because I’m going to fuck you like I’m gonna breed you anyway.” 

She nods. “... Red.”

“Red,” I repeat and then I’m all over her.

Your Point of View

Jungkook lunges at you, his movements a blur of desperate need. You’re pressed against the iron bars of the cage as he kisses you like he’ll devour you whole. His hands roam your body to tear off your bra and panties, and you gasp, but he swallows it by kissing you deeper.

His hands are greedy, kneading your breasts in circular motions. He twists one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb, the sensation borderlining pain and pleasure, but you succumb to it. Especially when he stops kissing you to lower himself, sucking on your other nipple. He doesn’t hold back and tugs on it between his teeth, earning a mewl from you. 

When he pulls back, he releases it with an audible pop before giving the other one the same treatment. Your hands run through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him moan with hunger. He pushes your breasts together, so he’s able to suck both nipples simultaneously. The sight enraptures you, and you swear he’s the most attractive man alive. 

“I can’t wait, I need you now. I need you many… many times tonight,” he says after he’s left several purple constellations in his wake. You’re turned around, holding onto the bars for support as his bicep slithers around your neck. His lips find purchase on the shell of your ear. “God, I want to destroy you.”

He slips his thick cock in between your thighs, feeling the copious amount of slickness between your folds. He thrusts back and forth and you rock your hips in tandem, appreciating his restraint. Each time his tip brushes against your clit, you moan to the ceiling while he groans against your neck. 

You’re sensitive, on the brink of an orgasm, but Jungkook comes first. White spurts of cum spill out from his tip, and he shudders when you use your hand to coax out more. 

“Fuck, I can’t hold on anymore. I’d do more to prep you, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry.” 

Despite coming already, Jungkook was still fully erect. You swore he might’ve even gained an inch. He was deliciously massive, blessed in both girth and length. 

“It’s okay. I can take it,” you assure. 

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

Jungkook holds onto your hips and pulls you back, your body now parallel to the floor at a ninety-degree angle. You arch your back and stick your ass out for him, even going far as to shake your peach to tantalize him. Without needing to guide it, he slams his dick into you with such violence that it leaves you winded. 

He wastes no time thrusting, his pace desperate, rushed, and greedy to satisfy an insatiable hunger. You’re holding onto the bars for dear life as he fucks you like it’s his last day on Earth. There’s a burn that comes with not having time to adjust to his inhumane size, but you endure. Lust covers a world of hurt and the stretch ignites a fervor. 

The basement is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and unabashed moaning. Jungkook grips your hips so tight, they bruise. He smacks your ass multiple times, each sting resulting in a tighter clench from your soaking pussy, which drives him wild.  You love how he stretches you out, how he’s using you like a dumb fucktoy for his cravings. You want to please him because it pleases you. 

Without warning, he pistons into you faster, and you can barely see straight. His last thrust is sharp and calculated, a rough grunt escaping him as he empties himself into you. Your legs are trembling when he pulls out, admiring how his cum oozes out of you. 

Sliding down to the ground, you rest your back against the cage and close your eyes to catch a break. However, Jungkook smacks your cheeks a couple of times to get your attention. He’s erect again, no surprise. You swear with each orgasm, he’s getting bigger. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, guiding your lips to his throbbing cock. It’s coated in shared body fluids, but you open your mouth like an automated response until he slides himself in. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and he pulls out, but not all the way. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes next as he grabs ahold of both sides of your head, fucking your face as he pleases. 

You’re choking and saliva dribbles down to your breasts, your eyes sting with tears, but he keeps going and you take the abuse. He doesn’t hold your head lovingly. Rather, his hand cages you in, guiding you however he sees fit. Your jaw is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when you have the most gorgeous man throwing his head back in bliss because of you. 

Once his hips stutter and he comes again, you swallow the slightly bitter fluid and he releases you.

“Get up.”

You’re a bit dizzy, so he helps you to your feet. You see him squat and bring your legs atop his shoulders. In one swift motion, he stands with you perched atop and you squeal, holding his head in fear of falling. 

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

You don’t question him and do just that, thinking about how this was the same way you took down your opponent back at the farm. However, the only danger here was Jungkook having you right where he wanted you.

He sticks his tongue out and begins lapping up your juices from earlier. You’re unable to process being suspended in the air while getting eaten out at the same time. It’s thrilling, and you almost sob when he invades your walls and tongue-fucks you. The slurping noises that leave him are obscene. It’s as if you were his last meal, which only coaxes out more arousal. It’s too much when your orgasm nears, but he grabs your ass tighter and everything snaps.

You’re screaming his name, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Your ears ring, your toes curl, and you shut your eyes to ride the waves of bliss. You don’t even realize when you’re back on the ground because it feels like you’re not even on the same planet anymore. 

And suddenly you’re in the air again. Jungkook grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you, your legs perched around his waist and your hands around his neck. He uses one hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and your breath hitches. 

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

He sinks you onto his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. You hold each other close, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Everything burns inside Jungkook’s body. His thighs, his arms, his heart—but that pain fuels him to fuck you harder. You kiss him first this time, inserting your tongue and sliding it against his. It’s sloppy but erotic, and he only ups his speed. 

He doesn’t last long and comes again, but you wait until he decides to put you down. You’re on your back now and he places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“God, I wanna fill you up again. Breed you until you’re exhausted.”

He has hold of your ankles, bringing them up high until your knees hug your chest as he inserts himself again. You can see his fat cock going in and out of you, his cock creamy and white from your slick. Your tummy bulges with each thrust, but the nightmarish visual is, somehow, incredibly sexy. He makes you feel full, yet you can’t seem to get enough. 

“Fuck, how are you still going?” you whimper. He chuckles like he’s flattered, lowering your legs so he can lay flat on top, chest to chest. You’re both sweaty and reek of sex, but it feels right. 

“Because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to ravish you.” 

Hours pass. He’s more beast than man at this point, almost unrecognizable. This wasn’t making love. He was determined to fuck your brains out. 

Every position imaginable, no part of your body went unexplored. If you were a country, he was a sergeant invading every part of you. You’re bruised and full of bloody scratches, but so was he. 

Whenever you were nearing the possibility of passing out, he found a way to give you a break. Whether by humping your thighs again or using your hands, he didn’t care. You’re soaked in his cum, a sticky, filthy mess that he deemed beautiful. He took pride in his work like you were his canvas for a Jackson Pollock painting. 

His boundless energy inspired him to get creative, making use of the cage’s chains. He had you dangle from the ceiling as he fucked you from the front. From the back. In your ass. 

If he thought you were tight before, your ass was a whole other story. You’d never taken something so big. It took a while for you to relax and though lube was ideal, the copious amounts of cum he filled you with earlier worked fine. More than fine. Something about him shoving his two fingers in you to draw out his cum to finger your asshole felt lecherous. You swore you were going to tear in half, but when his tip brushed sweet spots you didn’t know existed, you came harder than the previous times.  

Now you are on all fours, his hand in your hair, locking you in the humiliating position. He penetrates deep inside, loving the way your ass jiggles every time your bodies meet. You’ve been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to think about anything but his cock. 

You’re saying “Yes, yes, yes!” but the words are slurred, reduced to pure nonsense, thanks to his brutal movements. His thrusts are merciless, repeatedly hitting you in that sweet spot with no signs of slowing down unless he changes positions. 

“Fuck, this is it,” he grunts. He carefully pulls out, lies on his side, and brings you close so you’re on your side too. Lifting your leg, he slides into you again and resumes penetration. This time when he comes, you can see your belly expand from how much he fills you up. His monstrous cock swells and you whine from the discomfort, feeling like you’re about to pop. 

“It hurts,” you cry. Jungkook cuddles you as his knot takes form, ensuring no cum spills out. 

“I know, love. It’ll be okay.” He litters your neck with kisses to distract you from the pain until you’re used to his new size. You’ve never felt so full and can’t believe you’re stuck like this for who knows how long. It’s a phony moment of reprieve, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the pain subsides, you lay there as he hugs you, feeling his chest on your back. He holds your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. You take this chance to look at his tattoos, noticing one stand out in particular. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

You’re pointing to a tattoo of a lake with mountains that have a full moon situated between them on his forearm.

“Oh, that? It’s where I first fell for Namjoon when he sparred with me.” His playful lilt makes you pout.

“Hey…” 

Jungkook kisses your shoulder and grins. “That’s where I first fell for you, silly. And where I fell for you again the night of the wedding. I contemplated getting rid of it, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw…” A question pops into your mind that you’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you have vervain on you that day? Why carry the burden of knowing?”

He hums like he was expecting that question. “Because I know you too well and maybe… I wanted to keep that pain because it was my last link to you. I couldn’t give that up.” He turns your face so you’ll look up at him. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Saying those three words back again didn’t feel like enough. He was your one and you wanted to spend eternity with him.

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

His doe eyes form an OJO face, which earns a laugh from you. Despite all that’s happened, this manages to surprise him. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you allow him to mark you as his. 

The next morning you and Jungkook are cleaned up, cuddling by the fireplace in the living room area. 

“Why is there a saxophone over there?” you ask, pointing to the random instrument near the door.

“You know what… I’m not sure.” Jungkook gets up, walks over to it, and picks it up. The face he makes while examining it is endearing, but you’re curious when he reaches his hand in the bell of the instrument. “I feel something.”

He pulls out something small, but you recognize the diamond instantly. “Is that a wedding ring?”

His face morphs into panic. “It’s not for you,” he blurts. You giggle and approach him, swiping the ring. 

“I know that, silly. You wouldn’t propose to me here.”

He visibly relaxes, rubbing the back of his nape, cheeks flushed. “It’s Namjoon’s.”

“Oh! Is this what he asked you to help him find? Is he going to propose to Jin? How sweet!”

A strange hissing noise distracts you two, and you turn your attention to the window. The snow from the avalanche is melting rapidly and soon, the door opens, revealing the couple you were just talking about.

“We’re here!” Jin shouts with his arms out in a ta-da position. 

“Again… you’re a little late,” you tease. Namjoon strides in, taking a look at the damage you two inflicted in the small space. 

“Geez… what did you two do?”

“What didn’t we do?” Jungkook says, giving you a wink. You can only laugh as you playfully hit his shoulder. 

The clothes the cabin had were a size too big on you, so they drooped on your small frame. Namjoon and Jin are quick to notice the bite mark on your exposed shoulder and how it solidified into something akin to a tattoo.

“Oh… Oh,” Jin says, realization hitting him as his ears turn red. “Congratulations!”

“Well, we should congratulate you too,” Jungkook says, giving Namjoon a pointed look. The man is confused at first, but then nods once he feels you slip the metal item into his palm. He’s ecstatic and immediately grabs the saxophone. You and Jungkook grin while his rather awkward proposal plays out, with Jin mostly unaffected and choosing to criticize his partner’s clothing choices instead.

“Hey! I practiced hard for you and you only talk about my clothes?!” Namjoon says, but the smile he wears lets you know he’s not hurt. Jin laughs and hugs him.

“I’m touched!”

Namjoon finally gets down on one knee and pops the question. “Will you marry me then?”

Now Jin’s entire face is flushed. “Oh my god… of course, my gentle giant.”

Jungkook and you give each other a knowing look, wondering when your turn will come next. He holds your hand and you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

“I know. But I’m not in a rush. I’m already yours.”

General A/N: Hello!!! Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate reblogs and asks if you wanna share your thoughts. 💘

Moonstruck Readers A/N: So for those who are curious, I was going to include NamJin’s wedding where Taehyung shows up and he sees OC and JK together. And that could lead to a whole other spiral of feelings. ;) But I’m not promising to write it. This is their happy ending and OC and JK do get married eventually. 

Or if you’re like my friend who keeps saying TaeKook should both be with OC, well, that’s in another universe I guess. LOL!

[quandledlngle69]

🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡

im here… again…(*^‿^*)

BUT TODAY… in here to request something special, that for once doesnt include michael kaiser… because today… the march of the 24th… is my bday yayayayya

but anyways HIHIHI MY FAVORITE!!!! THE VAMP KAISER ONE WAS DELICIOUS AS USUAL THANK YEWWWW!!!!

today im switching it up im here for an alexis ness fic pretty please (>ᴗ•)

give me uhhhh another very desperate ness one where uhhhhh he sort of did something without thinking twice to reader that annoyed them and uuhhhh idk maybe uhhhh make it like that scene from wolf of wall street where uhmmmm margot robbie has her heel on his head and he just begs for her to stop being all mad and to just let him kiss her 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉ℯ𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓂ℯ𝓃 𝒷𝓉𝓌 but uhhh yeah THANK YEEEWWW!!!! (^‿^✿)

・. ★ HII PRETTY (˶ˆᗜˆ˵).ᐟ OMGGGGG HAPPY BIRTHDAY I HOPE YOU HAD ALL THE CAKE AND THE PRESENTS YOU WANTED AND I HOPE YOU HAD A REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD DAY AHHHH Also sorry if this seems a little rushed and fast paced i wanted to get this out for you anon before the end of the day :P

☆ CONTENT: Ness leaves your regular movie night to deal with the aftermath of his teammates unruly unclean habits. He comes back to his apartment two hours later then he said, neglecting to update you. He finds you sulking on the couch, upset and displeased. But he knows if he begs ever so sweetly at your feet, you'll forgive him in no time. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Ness being pathetic and literally physically ill every time reader is upset with him, neglect, slight manipulation and enjoyment of begging from Ness by reader, mention of kaiser having anger issues, idk anymore so lmk if I missed any. ☆ W.C. 0.8K

Ness feels like he’s going to die.

He internally beats himself up for not being more attentive of your concealed sulking expression when he headed out the door.

It was a rookie mistake, informing you that your regular rom–com movie night wasn’t happening, as his team collectively decided to spring clean up duty in the training room on Ness. Oh how could he have missed it, when your overly–sweet words told him it was okay, an up–curved smile that didn’t reach your eyes and casual but stiff hand gestures. It's okay, you would wait for him to come back in an hour or two. 

But in fact, everything was not okay.

Not only did he not pick up the disappointment in your eyes, he was two hours later than the time he told you he would be home by, as stupid Isagi decided to open a can of shaken soda by the training equipment. 

He called out your name as he shut the apartment door behind him gingerly, kicking off his shoes when he only got a reply of pure silence. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t gut–wrenched with anxiety. He hadn’t even messaged you to let you know he’d be delayed–it completely slipped his mind, and he knew how upset you got when he didn’t update you about these things. 

All the above lights are off, casting only a dull pitch darkness in the rooms. There was a faint mumble of sound coming from the living room. He followed the only illuminating lightsource, the artificial glow coming from none other than the TV. 

And there you were, stretched out flat on your back, your cherry–red baby tee riding up your ribcage, a matching thong cupping over and tight around your hips. A tub of your favourite chocolate fudge ice cream sat on your stomach, a flicker of a silver spoon stuck straight up in the gelato. Your hair was tucked away in your silky pink bonnet, the bow knotted limply at the side of your hairline. You were watching Wild Child, your eyes seemingly fixated on the particular scene, but Ness can tell by the way your lips thinned and your eyelids narrowed–you knew he was there, just blanking his presence. 

His eyes watched you intensely as the ice cream tub was placed onto the wooden floor below. “Alexis.” You say his name as if it's a stain on your tongue, a simple acknowledgement, your eyebrows raised and a sigh falls from your lips. It makes him feel ill.  

He immediately goes into damage control mode–a habit he got from trying to make peace with an aggravated or irritated Kaiser. Hushed apologises tumble from his lips, instinctively dipping down to ensnare you in his arms; but it's quickly cut short as your bare leg extends out, the pad of your foot pressed against his forehead. “No,–no touching.” 

His lip quivers, and you tilt your head to see him looking up at you with the biggest begging eyes you’ve ever seen. He resembled a kicked puppy, and you would giggle at his desperate expression if you weren't so displeased at the fact he neglected to call or text you. You dug your heel in his nose at the thought, a pout forming on your face as you crossed your arms defiantly. His hands tremble as they tenderly wrap around your ankle, slowly repositioning your foot onto his collar bone. 

“I'm sorry, Kleines Mädchen, please–bitte…” His voice trailed off miserably, itching to reach out and touch you, but all that would give him is silent treatment, his eyes darted from your plump lips to your eyes.

Your lips went even more into a pout, and swore his heart travelled up to his throat. “How sorry are you?”

“Really sorry, schatz.”

“Really?” you whispered, but there was almost a teasing tone in your voice, the corner of your lips twitching as if they were threatening to curve up.

“Really.” 

Ness thinks if you don’t forgive him in the next five seconds he might actually go crazy. But his prayers are answered when you finally smile, seemingly pleased with his response and undignified pleading. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been holding, almost jumping on you when you pulled him towards you by the collar of his shirt. He latches onto you like a koala, almost scary how much grip he had on you. His nose nuzzles into your neck, peppering lazy kisses on the side of your throat, making you shiver as your hands carded through the hair on the nape of his neck. You throw a bent leg over his hip, tapping his muscular leg with your foot. 

Your heavy lidded eyes drifted back to the TV screen, your voice a soft murmur, “You’re so pathetic.”

His grip tightens around you, his breathing softer. “I'm so pathetic,” He hums submissively, agreeing. You bite back a smile, melting into his hold as your eyes flutter shut, your mind following not too long after.

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

・. ★ Credit for divider.ᐟ: @.strangergraphics

[animeshotsh]

You what? | Viktor x Jayce x Kid!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: Viktor knows Jayce sometimes does things without thinking, but this? This goes beyond his own limits.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma - Kid!Reader - Viktor and Jayce are a couple - OFF CANON EVENTS - Human traffic - GN Reader - PLATONIC - grammar mistakes -

When Viktor enters on monday morning into the lab with his coffee in hand he expects nothing but silence, after all he is here before Jayce most mornings.

But he stops in his tracks when he hears Jayce's voice, maybe sounding less...well less like him. He sounds like he is talking to a small animal. It reminds him on how he uses to talk to Rio when he was a kid.

Pushing memories aside Viktor retakes his way and goes deeper into the lab, where their experiments are.

And oh, if his illness did not kill him as most doctors had said then this would do it.

Jayce, using one of his experiments showing it to a kid who seems to be as suprised as any kid would be and perphas gives the most honest reactions to his inventions.

But wait, go back.

Jayce and a kid.

His cane hits the floor in suprise and he ends being watched by two pairs of eyes.

Jayce looks like he was discovered breaking some important rule, to which Viktor is centrain that bringing a kid into the lab counts as but he wont say it. And another pair that looks at him with curiosity.

There is silence, no one really knows what to say or how to act. But Jayce ends reacting, leaving the experiment and going to help Viktor with his cane who is feeling a headache coming.

"Hey Vik! long time no see, how's your house?"

Honestly? Viktor wants nothing more than to go back in time and insist that he is fine and does not need rest. Maybe like that he would have stayed with Jayce and prevent...this.

But time travel is something that is still on the making, so back to the main point.

Viktor just gives out the most tired look, then turns to a near chair, sits and taking his coffee simple says "Explain"

Becuase if there is something he has come to learn while dating and loving Jayce is that nothing should suprise him (and yet Jayce still manages to do it) and also, is better to ask upfront than to wait for him to talk up. Viktor can still remember that one time he found a big (illegal no less) plant at his home and Jayce ignored it for two hours till he asked.

"Well you see, its really funny actually..."

"Jayce...."

"Alright..., so I took a walk around campus and saw some...suspicious individuals and well lets say I was not very discrete"

Viktor can just imagine the scene

"And they saw me and ran but I chased after them"

Stupid move Viktor thinks

"And then they trow me this kid at me, i mean what could I have done? So i took them home, gave them a warm meal and a bath" Jayce ends sounding a bit too proud of himself.

"Jayce you...you stole a kid?" Viktor asks because he is confused "And did not report the incident?"

"Uh well i was going too but then (Y/N) started to wonder around so i kind of forgot..."

"(Y/N?" Viktor asks and sees you peeking out from behind the big desk.

"Yes! Thats their name, im not sure about much more, only that they like chocolate and blue stuff"

Viktor ends in silence for various minutes. You must be an orphan he concludes, an orphan from the undercity, who had no other choice but to follow a gang in order to survive. He tries to calculate your age but its hard, you have been not eating well, thats clear, and he can already see some bruises from the misstreatment of the undercity.

Being raised by parents or family its a luxury after all.

"Jayce you cant just take a kid in" Viktor says and his heart almost breaks as he sees you run towards Jayce hugging his legs.

Noted, you may not talk but you understand, its clear you are more intelligent than what you leave to be at first.

Street smart maybe?

"But Viktor! I cant just leave them" Jayce responds picking you up. "If they return to the undercity i dont think they will make it"

Jayce sees how you push your head against his chest and smiles softly at you.

"And we cant leaven them at an orphan home! I have read of these places, they suck"

Viktor must agree, its not like he comes from one but knows well that lots of kids ends being sold off...

"Alright and whats your plan?" Viktor asks "Do you even know what it means to raise a kid, or how? What about me? Were you going to consulte me?"

He can see the pain in Jayce eyes at his last sentence. "Of course I was! I was just thinking of a...well a good moment"

"Because bringing them to the lab was the perfect idea"

"I could not leave them at home! I mean i tried but- they would not let go of my leg, i think they have some type of trauma..."

Viktor takes another deep breath, Jayce kidness and heart knows no limits.

"Besides you did say you wanted to help the peopel from the undercity"

"This is different, we are talking about raising! adopting a kid!"

"So you are considering?" Jayce asks in the most hopeful tone ever.

Viktor just lets out another breath.

"Well, its not like they can go back and yes, orphan homes sucks" Viktor responds. "But we need to do this right. And i mean legally"

Jayce nods and all of him lights up like he has discover a new thing. He goes to Viktor carefully managing (Y/N) by his hands and leans down to peak Viktor's lips.

"Yes!! Totally! I will talk to Mel about it, im sure she can move some contacts for this" Jayce says and Viktor can see his brain making more and more plans.

"They also need clothes, and we should think of getting them into school" Viktor adds standing up with his cane and going closer. He can see (Y/N) eyes and cant denied how it makes his heart melts.

"Dad?" Its what you say looking at Viktor, then you look at Jayce "Mom?"

Jayce smiles and nods while Viktor is left without words. "Yes! We are your mom and dad now" he says pointing at him then at Viktor.

"Family?"

Jayce nods again

"...Chocolate?" You asks once more

"Alright thats all, if they eat too much sugar this place will be a disaster, you do remember we have dangerous things in here, right?"

Jayce nods at Viktor then whispers to you "We will get chocolate once we end work"

Viktor snorts then moves to his desk to finally start working and also to let his mind register everything. He hears the doors closing imagining Jayce went with you to talk to Mel.

But no, he feels a pull at his trousers and looks down at you who looks up at him extending your arms

"Dad! Up!"

Viktor does as told pulling you on his lap and passing you some papper and a pen. Both fall in a comfortable silence.

And Viktor thinks, this is something he can totally get used to.

[kiyomitakada]

what draws you to misa amane?

oh this is such a good question let me see if i can do it justice.

two of my favorite themes in anything are

characters who are performances

what if love was not good

and misa is basically like if you took these two and smashed them together in a way perfectly calculated to obliterate me

like she's so! our first introduction to her is her pretending to be someone else (the first kira) so well that she even fools the audience. our second introduction to her is rem telling her that she is only alive because someone loved her, someone was killed by their love for her, and misa looks down for a second — looks almost sad — and then smiles and immediately starts scheming to kill her too.

who the fuck does that? what is wrong with her?

i think what misa understands fundamentally is that love is a weapon. if you asked her she'd laugh and say that's silly, she's a romantic after all! but she knows how attraction works and she uses it like a physical object with rem and higuchi and her jailor (when she thinks she's being tied up by a stalker and she starts offering bits of herself in order to get them to give her more freedom. mr stalker, the video won't be interesting if i can't move. oh, i'll give you an autograph, i'll shake your hand…)

and like, sure, that's how any femme fatale works, but crucial to the entire act is that misa doesn't admit it. she acts stupid on purpose! she's a cute little girl, she's misa-misa! all of this is literally in the text but she is just so good at acting that people forget about it! she isn't your usual scheming seductress character (also a character archetype i'm obsessed with, incidentally) because she knows better than to let anyone see her scheming.

look at this bit where she's specifically trying to get sidelined and successfully gets light to sideline her

+ i literally just posted about it but this scene where she decides to go behind everyone's back to uncover higuchi as kira drives me up a wall. the way she immediately covers it up with asking light to come to bed to her. i've seen so many people just screenshot that last part out of context because it really does look like a normal misa thing to do, haha misa and her conviction that light is in love with her, so funny! and that is the exact thing she is relying on to make sure they don't catch onto her. she pulls the same trick on the reader that she does on the characters. isn't that! insane! and it works every time!!!!

and of course talking about misa is never really complete without talking about her and light. it is my personal belief that she has a bpd favorite-person fixation on light that she convinces herself is actually romantic, but mental illness headcanons aside i am obsessed with the way she conceives of their relationship? on their first meeting she says out loud that she doesn't care if light just plays the part of her boyfriend ("i'll work hard to make you love me") but she doesn't want him to date other girls in public. she doesn't actually mind that he doesn't have feelings for her (yet!) but she cares about the appearance of their relationship. about the facade. she keeps putting both of them in danger by showing up to see him when he's told her not to. she gives up her actual memory of light but is relieved that she doesn't have to give up her feelings for him, specifically. she is over the moon when L and rem say she's in love with him (not the other way around!). and this

this fucking scene added a decade to my lifespan

rem: you tried to kill yourself over this boy misa: (sincere) that's awesome!

like she isn't actually enamored with him. she's enamored with how in love with him she is

oh that reminds me. addition to my favorite themes in anything list:

3. SUICIDALITY

misa halves her lifespan twice. risks her life to catch kira multiple times in yotsuba arc. as aforementioned goes to meet light even though it threatens both of them. literally says aloud i'd rather die while i'm still young and pretty

her parents are dead. she is nineteen years old and incredibly traumatized. the conclusion here is very straightforward.

misa calls kira her savior even though she knows kira isn't the one who actually saved her life with gelus. kira doesn't even save her parents, just avenges them by murdering their killer. so why is he her savior? because kira gives her a reason to live again. her goal now is to meet him, and then after she meets him, get him to fall in love with her. this is impossible because of the way light is and in some ways i think that is ideal for misa: there's always something to keep going after, some reason for her to not die yet. but she keeps throwing herself at death anyway in the meantime because if she's going to die then she wants it to be for love. i did all that for light? that makes me so happy!

the two times i think misa is completely entirely honest with the audience are when she's in confinement and when she's in the forest alone, right after getting her memories back:

christ.

this is imo why she sides with light over kira in the yotsuba arc. because what she actually wants is to not be alone, to have a reason to live, and kira helpfully provided that for a while but now that she's under constant surveillance to make sure she's not siding with kira and now that her boyfriend is also trying to catch him, she's going to side with the boyfriend so that she can keep light by her side.

what i really like about this is that it's so… amoral? misa does think kira is doing good for the world but she personally doesn't care, she just wants to be loved. she will twist her morals into whatever necessary to make sure that she is loved. she really doesn't care about anything else. she frames her good friend for the kira tapes. she places zero value on her own life and by extension zero value on anyone else's — even light's, to be honest, see above about how she's willing to put them both at risk to see him — and it's the most entertaining thing in the whole world! it's so awesome! she's so awesome!

and the best thing is that this comes back to bite her so hard in the second arc because now that she's lost her memories she can't remember why she's with light in the first place but just like in yotsuba arc she understands that this person is the only reason she is still alive, that she has to be in love with him, that he has to be in love with her, and it doesn't matter how either of them actually feel because that is How The Story Goes for a cute little girl. it doesn't matter that she's canonically developing alcohol dependence issues (see her dinner with kiyomi) or that she never sees her fiance anymore. she's still misa-misa. she's still everything.

her trick folds in on itself. she's been pretending to be a good non-murderous girlfriend for so long that when she loses her memories and her internality she has to believe herself. she becomes the shell she was putting on for light

where's the post. here. [light, about misa]

like isn't that the coolest thing in the world! she's been acting for the audience both in- and out-of-universe for so long that she has nothing else to believe in! becoming the mask is a form of ego death! isn't that the most meta thing ever! i love her so much im going to die

oh god this is getting long. umm. conclusion

there's this framework i like to think about characters with that i call zoom-in and zoom-out, where the zoom-in focuses on their internal life and conflicts and feelings etc. and the zoom-out focuses on their role in the narrative, outsider-pov style. the best characters are the ones that are compelling both zoom-in and zoom-out style.

zoom-in: misa amane is a deeply lonely and deeply suicidal teenager who latches onto the first reason she finds for living and clings onto it (him) for the entire rest of the series while constantly putting on a moe act for the sake of survival and then just because she has nothing else

zoom-out: misa amane is the second kira, stalks a high school boy to his house, kills over a hundred thousand people at his command with the same bright smile, and is such a good liar that people still come away from this show calling her stupid.

[rainbowlimenade]

I DONT WANT A MONSTER HIGH SHOW DIRECTED AT A MATURE AUDIENCE FOR THEM TO MAKE SEX JOKES AND SAY SWEARS I WANT A MONSTER HIGH SHOW DIRECTED AT MATURE AUDIENCES SO THEY CAN MAKE MORE STUPID JOKES THAT THEY CANT MAKE WHEN DIRECTING IT TOWARDS CHILDREN!!!!!!

examples!!!

weremonsters think theyre going to a weremonster meetup but then it turns out its a furry convention

lagoona actually gets to kill/maul someone on screen

clawdeen gets to be wayyyy more geeky about weirder, grosser monster facts that they cant talk about on nickelodeon

draculaura reading monster yuri manga (no i will not elaborate)

lagoona reading more and more bizarre monster romance novels

frankie being silly :3

toralei calling people slurs but theres always a loud noise to block out her actually saying most of it (example: clawdeen you are such a fa- (noises woodchipper loudly coming from the kitchen of the creepateria)-t)

(toralei is the only exception for the swearing thing)

deuce gorgon hrt

jokes about furbys

teez and mouscedes being mean scene kid type characters because i continue to believe that mouscedes would be an awesome character to be scene along with teez

MONSTER BIOLOGY JOKES

OUTDATED 2000s/2010s REFERENCES BECAUSE CHILDREN WOULDNT BE A TARGET DEMOGRAPHIC

ill think of more later

[lunarriviera]

so here's what i can't stop thinking about tonight [spoilers for jitd ep 15, and mo du too, probably], bc somehow my brain is still snagged on scenes from a whole week ago. ofc we all flipped our shit, and rightly so, about how insane they were for this, inserting an entire afterlife sequence that takes up fully a third of the episode just to demonstrate that in fact gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day—all instead of having luo wenzhou say one single incriminating line ("he's my lover") and then hork into a garbage can.

but i'm stuck somewhere else tonight, and it's on: "i'm so tired."

fei du doesn't even need to say it. look at his face, these are the lineaments of someone exhausted to paper thinness. but what i keep putting together and taking apart in my head, though, is precisely why he's so tired. and somehow that just makes it so much worse.

because as lwz will say to him later, in one of the extras, he was never worried about whether fei du could outsmart anyone he wanted to. we already know he's stunningly intelligent, we've seen him thinking dozens of moves ahead of everyone else, constantly, from the time he was a child. that's actually not the exhausting part. it's not even his master plan, his long con, the entire-life-as-undercover-operation that's taking a toll on him—or not that, per se; not that qua that. think of the scene in episode 14 when he and luo wenzhou are interrogating zhou huaijin, and fei du tells him: dong xiaoqing may be a killer, but she was just the weapon—don't you want to know who was holding the knife? fei du's whole life purpose has been bent towards uncovering the people with the knife in their hands.

so if it's not his brilliance that's being taxed, or his capacity for plans that stretch over a lifetime, what precisely has made him so tired?

my answer varies, but tonight i think it's two different things, and the first of them is this one: he's unbelievably lonely.

[major spoilers from this point.] even during the long years when fei chengyu tortured him and his mother, she was still there. she was at least allowed to read to him every night (although even that was carefully circumscribed, and she spent most of the time trying to inculcate him with furtive ethical messaging, so he wouldn't be lost). he is able to remember her nursing him when he was ill, but remotely, coldly, as if anything caring or gentle, even eye contact or unnecessary touch, might be punished (and probably would have been). still, he had her. they were together; he wasn't alone in hell.

even after her death, of course, there was tao ran, and it's completely understandable that young fei du would have adhered to him, as thoughtful and sweet-tempered and normal as tao ran is. where lwz can be sharp-tongued and brusque, tao ran is always pouring oil on troubled waters, adding tact and kindness to a situation. in the novel, lwz tells teenaged fei du bluntly, during an outing, "you shouldn't be here, you don't fit in," and fei du smiles: "he didn't want to fit in."

i think when you're a teenager, you can probably tell yourself that, and almost believe it, especially when you've been violently trained the way he was: told repeatedly that you're antisocial, you don't need human connection, you don't crave it, you don't even want it—that kind of sentimental idiocy is for stupid people, people beneath you.

fei du not only internalized that belief, but he's had to behave as though it were true. to play the edgelord playboy with icy purity and, most of all, complete success—since partial success is failure, in this case—no one can get to know you well enough to know what you're really up to. he might have enjoyed some parts of the game; he's to a degree risk-taking, thrill-seeking by nature (as well as, again, by brutal psychological experimental conditioning). the motorcycle/car racing, the epic performative partying, the dissipated indifference, clawing his way to the top of his father's corporation—as the novel says "a beast in human clothing," the "domineering director-general"? sure, some of it might have been fun, or at least distracting. being superb at anything is its own keen pleasure, if you're smart enough.

but later luo wenzhou will have observed fei du from close-up enough to realize that it's all a disguise. and it's one that costs him dearly.

and that's the other thing that's worn him out, i think. first there's the loneliness of carrying it by yourself, having not one other person in the world to know your heavy secrets, the weight of your isolation, because telling anyone the truth would risk dragging them down with you; but there's also the fatigue from just having to keep it up, day after day, getting up every morning and pinning a manipulative disguise onto your face. if parts of the charade were ever stimulating, or even thrilling, that patina of charm has worn off. he just wants a warm bowl of congee and to go to bed on time, like a person, now.

because since fei chengyu's accident, fei du has spent most of his adult life around normal, non-sinister human beings. he thinks he can just mimic their behavior; he doesn't realize he's actually chosen to adopt it as his own. i'm so sorry to tell you this, feishir, but in many ways your genius plan to successfully impersonate a monster has, in fact, failed. you're actually just a regular young adult. you're too kind to strangers. you're far too careful and considerate with grief-stricken old ladies and frightened children—you're even about to pet your cat, and remember what it means to stroke a small warm animal with no purpose other than affection, only wanting it to feel safety and pleasure (and feeling those yourself, in return). abject failure to become an amoral soulless ghoul, president fei; your satanic dad really blew it (which is ofc fei du's other purpose in life: to prove fcy wrong, though he goes about it in the most agonizing way possible).

and then, worst of all, fei du started flirting with luo wenzhou, which probably started as something amusing to do while waiting around for tao ran; but it's become oddly addictive, needling lwz while feeling increasingly curious about how he'll respond. and then—gradually, slowly, as in "slowly the ice age ended"—luo wenzhou, too, has become a trusted, reliable source of safety and pleasure, and rare human connection. fei du, in fact, has started to like him.

but liking him is, he also knows, incredibly dangerous. he thinks he can't have that, not any of it, at this point. if lwz finds out even one of his horrific secrets, and then gets involved, it could all be ruined.

so fei du is alone, and he really doesn't like his job anymore. but he can't quit, and he can't let anyone else into the aloneness. of course he's tired. anyone would be tired, even ruthlessly self-controlled geniuses who tell themselves constantly how sinister they are.

and that's probably a third thing that's worn him down: the unending effort of continually repeating to himself that he's inhuman, he's made wrong, he's broken. fei du doesn't realize this habitual attempt at reinforcing fei chengyu's training has never made it any more true, but what is happening is that it's ineluctably starting to fray him, shred him at the edges. keeping attachment at bay, holding back from your own natural instincts to be close to others, to share your confidences with them, to know and be known? pretending not only that you don't like anyone, but that you aren't even capable of liking?

the cultural critic joyce carol oates wrote once, in an essay on the poet sylvia plath, of this kind of self-hatred: "in art, it can lead to silence; in life, to suicide." and that's precisely what we see fei du choosing here, to be honest (and we can talk some other time about the ways in which fei du's ma has turned sinister in his unconscious: a death-bringer in white, sitting on her funeral bier, inviting him to give up on the arduousness and self-loathing and loneliness of his life).

in the novel luo wenzhou tells tao ran in the emergency waiting room: “when other people get brought in there, they have someone waiting outside. if he doesn’t have anyone, i’m afraid he’ll be broken-hearted and won’t be willing to come back.” tao ran can't believe he's hearing lwz, of all people, say this about fei du, of all people—but in the drama, this is made literal: lwz turns out to be right. if it weren't for his being there, urgently wanting fei du alive and around to give him problems and cause him trouble, wanting him healthy and condescending and annoying, making sarcastic remarks and smiling his irritating peach-blossom smile and just generally being a royal pain in luo wenzhou's ass—if it weren't for luo wenzhou's need for him having become so suddenly, unexpectedly overwhelming that it's literally palpable, fei du's tiredness would have won out.

fortunately, as it is, he's going home now, where he can actually rest in reality, not just in the afterlife. the secrets are coming out, one by one. he won't be alone anymore, and he won't have to keep up the role of lead villain, slain by his own hand at the end of the play. and, if or when he forgets and falls back into old habits, luo wenzhou will be there to fuss at him and whack him on the back of the head, force-feed him vegetables, blow-dry his hair, make him wear long underwear, handcuff him to the bed to sleep, provide him with new parents and a pair of cats—and above all, love him so consistently and so fiercely that there's no room anymore for anything but simple contentment, and sanity, and quiet peace.

[spacestation-l7]

so sorry to keep FLOODING this inbox with Zootles requests oh mygosh

But how about some Hamburg Zootles?? I'd love to see how you portray their early years :3

The Silver Zootles and Rory Stork in Hamburg! You can tell they get along just fine :)

(Also thank You for flooding my asks with these requests actually!! I've grown attached to this AU and I love expanding it even more so feel free to keep flooding it!! :D)

Only a few years after the height of the Carni-Herbi war, Herbivores and Carnivores weren't allowed to exist in the same space for awhile. Society was slowly shedding away the old ways and even then, there were only a few places that would allow bands of Herbivores and Carnivores to play in the same area. Hamburg was the beacon of Herbivore and Carnivore assimilation, one of the only few places in Europe that would allow a band of Herbivores like The Silver Zootles to play wherever they desired.

Two bands that were stuck in a rivalry of their own making, Zootles and Hurricanes were constantly trying to one up each other in showmanship and musical prowess and everyone around them could just feel it; A band of Herbivores and a band of Carnivores going at each other in a show of talent and love for the arts instead of teeth and physical power. The Silver Zootles became sort of a symbol for the local Herbivores, showing that even these young scrappy Teddy Herbivores are able to match and in some cases outmatch their Carnivore peers.

However, there was One thing both bands would share between them; Ringo. Whenever Pete would fall ill or for any reason unable to show up for a show, Ringo was ready to take stage as a temporary Zootle and Rory and his pack would allow it. Besides, a few shows to help out a fellow band wouldn't hurt. Plus, Ringo seems to have taken a liking to the youngest Zootle in their herd. Ringo went in between two bands as if he belonged to both at the same time and it was a fun dynamic he thought, to belong to two different herds at the same time. It felt like a big family, and lions were notorious for keeping their extended families close in a big pride

It was all fun and games until one day, George had to be deported. The others would string up lies saying he broke some stupid Herbivore law like trespassing a "No Herbivores Allowed" or "Carnivores-only Zone" just to make him look all tough and them all innocent, when really the poor buck was deported cause he was a kid

Additionally; The Cavern Club was the first and, at the time, the only place in the UK to allow Carnivores and Herbivores to spend time together, and even so it was all in secret. The Zootles and The Hurricanes were, of course, frequents, having made a name for themselves in the local scene. Who knew some dingy old club in Liverpool would be the growing ground to the next up and coming Beastars.

[downtwngrl]

INTRICATE.

hi so it’s been a WHILE. uhhhh rewatched challengers for the thousandth time and it broke me out of my writers block! i don’t know how im going to continue w this, so feel free to drop any ideas and ill add it to the lore 😈 note: series prob isn’t gonna end with any smut scene bc im incapable of writing one without it sounding stupid asf! but who knows, you might be surprised

cw: 1.4k words,,, art and reader are dating but fighting, set in stanford era, tashi is NOT injured, patashi, hints of reader crushing on tashi but repressing it, fighting, tensiontensionTENSION! basically everyone is friends with one another but they all want each other BAD. lmk what else i should add :)

“it’s complicated.” that’s what you say every time someone asks you what your relationship with art donaldson is. and it’s true— you guys are fiery, but not explosive. complex, but not convoluted. it’s just… strange. intricate. hence, complicated.

you think he’d probably say the same thing, but there’s no real way to know, since you can’t exactly ask. the two of you aren’t on speaking terms right now, and for the same reason you two stopped talking last time, and the time before that.

art donaldson can’t split his time between his girlfriend and his fucking best friend’s girlfriend. and you can recite the argument quite well, maybe even word for word; it’s still fresh in your mind, engraved there.

“c’mon, you can’t just keep ditching me for her. it’s annoying, and it hasn’t just happened once or twice, you know.”

“i know.” art sighed, a hand tangled in his hair as if to ground himself. your name fell from his lips, voice cracking midway. “what do you want me to do? she needed help with her physics homework.”

“she can get one of her fucking groupies to help her! she’s a big girl, she doesn’t need to rely on you.” the way you said it, mocking and condescending, was mean, and you know it. you don’t hate tashi— you can’t even bring yourself to dislike her. but it hurts every single time you text art on your motorola and get hit back with some half-assed variation of ‘helping tashi. sry :( i’ll come later.’ he never actually shows up at ‘later’, which only rubs salt in the wound.

art’s jaw ticked. his eyebrows furrowed and eyes darkened in a way you’d only seen once before, when someone was talking shit about tashi in the cafeteria. you had watched as she calmly reassured art that is was fine, that he needed to relax, but he only shook his head and clenched his fists. in that moment, you wondered if he ever got that angry if he overheard someone talking about you. you now doubt it.

“don’t talk about her like that.” he said it calmly, but your skin still prickled. “she’s an accomplished lady. what about you? what have you done?”

if you sounded condescending before, it was nothing compared to how he sounded then. you scoffed away the sinking feeling in your stomach, blinked back the sting in your eyes. there was a lot you could have said to him then: ‘i might not be half as good at tennis as she is, but that’s less embarrassing than being second-best to her boyfriend.’ or ‘i didn’t compete for her number and lose.’ hell, even a good ‘fuck you’ would have sufficed.

instead, you just stood there, frozen, as he grabbed his stanford sweatshirt and left.

when you tell the story to patrick, he laughs, and doesn’t stop laughing until you jab him with your elbow, effectively knocking the oxygen out of him. his hands raise in mock surrender before speaking. “sorry, it’s just funny to see him get like this, i guess.”

you frown. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean that he likes you, but he likes tashi. i know it, tashi knows it, and from what i heard on the walk here—” he gestures vaguely towards the door to your dorm, “—the school knows it, too. i dunno, i guess it’s amusing ‘cause art has never been so disturbed about this kind of shit. usually he just picks the girl he likes best, but he can’t.”

“you mean he can’t because you’re dating her.”

patrick smirks his signature smirk. you have the urge to punch his teeth out; vagueness is beginning to be a pet peeve of yours. “no, i’ve told him that tashi is free reign.”

the way your stomach flutters at that is shameful. you push the feeling away. “like, you guys aren’t..?”

patrick shrugs. “i mean, currently she hates me because i said i’d go to her match yesterday and i missed it.” these guys really need to stop promising us stuff, you think. “but yeah, when she isn’t pissed off, we’re dating, and we talk about it. ‘bout you guys. she doesn’t really care if the two of you make moves on either one of us.”

you don’t say anything, but your ears feel warm, and your heart is about to explode out of your chest. it doesn’t help when patrick takes that as a sign to keep talking and says—

“i don’t care either.” it suddenly hits you, the closeness between you and him. close enough that you can smell his cologne, one typical of a rich frat boy you’d pass by in the halls. but it feels different, with him. patrick’s smirk has shifted into a grin, a big one. you realize he’s been gauging your reaction, and is thoroughly pleased.

“oh,” you breathe. he snickers, repeats it back playfully. you don’t understand how he’s so relaxed, able to make light-hearted jabs in this moment. art likes you and tashi. tashi doesn’t care if he likes her, or if you like her. patrick doesn’t either. but where do you stand in this?

your phone jingles, the sound muffled from the blood roaring in your ears. you don’t know if you should thank or curse out whoever decided to call you at this second, but you excuse yourself to answer. patrick nods begrudgingly, backs up enough for you to have room to finally start to inhale and exhale again. “hello?”

“hey.” it’s art on the phone. impulsively, you look around, as if he’s hiding somewhere in the dorm he marched out of a few days ago.

holy fuck. “hey!” you sound too cheery to your own ears, and hope that over the line it sounds more convincing. you hear a sigh on the other end, and can imagine art physically loosen. “what, uh— i thought you were mad. at me.”

patrick perks up. ‘art?’ he mouths, and you nod. he attempts to come closer, but you swat at him, moving a few steps away. he pulls a face, but doesn’t move closer. still, he’s definitely trying to hear what art is saying.

“i was.” art laughs nervously, the sound tinny over the phone. “but you’re right. i fucked up. tashi… she isn’t my girl. i need to pay more attention to you, and that’s gonna happen starting now.”

she isn’t my girl. “she could be,” you think aloud. you tense. art chokes. patrick stifles a laugh.

“what?” you pray that he didn’t hear it. you had mumbled it, whispered it, there’s a chance it didn’t pick up. art says your name one, two, three times before you respond.

“sorry, i just zoned out a little.”

“no, you said something. baby, what’d you say?”

“i said ‘you should be’. like, you should be paying more attention, dumb joke, i was trying to sound threatening,” you slap your free hand against your lips to stop your word vomit, then your forehead as you reprimand yourself for acting so stupid.

art hums. “oh, okay.” it should relieve some on the tension in your shoulders, but it doesn’t. he usually laughs when you fluster, but he didn’t. is he unconvinced, or are you overthinking? “hey, tomorrow can you come to my practice at noon? we can go to the cafeteria after, i’ve got wayyy too many meal credits.”

you look to patrick for help, but he shrugs, enjoying the moment. “sure.”

art says his goodbyes, goes ‘mwah!’ through the phone (which usually makes you laugh, but now you feel bad), and once you say bye, he hangs up.

“i’ll go to his practice, too.” it’s never a question with patrick (or with tashi); he just lets you know. “tashi’ll be there. she’s always on the court when she’s free.” you find it endearing that he knows her schedule.

“tashi.” you like the way her name rolls off your tongue, but you’d rather die than admit it.

before you can say anything else, patrick walks over, swings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. “don’t forget about what i said.” his breath smells like spearmint gum, the type art is always chewing. maybe he gave him a piece. “just think on it, yeah?”

you nod, and he pats your cheek before walking out the door, leaving you feeling dazed. after a few moments of just laying on your bed, soaking in the conversation you just had, your phone dings.

we’ll see u tmrw :-) -pat (&tash)

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 20 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)

8.6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Five months pass as you and Din try to forget one another.

Warnings: 18+ Content to be safe (MDNI please). Angst! (like a lot) Yearning, pining, mourning. People are hard on themselves in this one, folks. Nicknames (Din still thinks of you as Pretty Bird even though you're no longer his Pretty Bird; you're still Lil' Lady to Paz). And there is mild violence (of the Rory variety).

A/N: Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me! It's been a month since Ch. 19 and I guess this word count reflects that 😅😂 It could have been a little shorter but this ask convinced me to include the final scene instead of leaving it for the next chapter 🫣🤷🏻‍♀️ For that final scene, please imagine the suit/look from the Variety Hollywood issue shoot. The vibes of this and the next chapter is this scene in Twilight New Moon (cue 🎶it's a possibilityyyyyy🎶):

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

The week following that night at Din’s, you’re a shell of a person.  You cry for entire days but not much else - going on auto pilot taking care of Al but not yourself.  You don’t go to brunch that weekend, saying you feel disgusting, which honestly isn’t too far from the truth.  You’ve never been cheated on so you hardly know what it is you feel, only that an unyielding and tempestuous monsoon of emotions swirls inside you at all hours of the day.  You oscillate wildly between barely restrained hysteria, self-effacing shame, and sadness in an endless cycle.

To only your dog, you sometimes burst out half crying, half laughing at the absurdity of what you stumbled upon at Din’s apartment – how was it even possible?  Din, who you had loved with your whole heart, had pledged himself to you as you had him.  He had been your match in every way, and it was a tenant of his devotion that he only ever wanted to take care of you, make your life better.  How could the same man, without any warning, betray you in such an unfeeling and vulgar manner?  It simply could not be possible - it had to have been some type of cruel joke, you sob to Al. 

Then in an instant, you’ll turn your ire unto yourself: How could you have allowed this to happen?  Because it certainly did.  You stupidly let yourself be so blinded by love and desire that you didn’t see Din for what he was.  He wasn’t some honourable and noble protector; he was just some asshole who did and said what he needed to get his dick wet – and like an idiot you had fallen for it.  You were supposed to smarter than that, but it turns out you were just susceptible to a handsome face and a fat cock as anyone else.  The Din you had fallen for had been a total fabrication, and the dumbest part is that you had let him lie to you: you had blindly accepted that there were things in his life that he could never be fully honest with you about - that there were things that he just had to keep secret from you for your “own protection.”  You had accepted dishonesty as part of your so-called relationship right off the bat, it was no wonder that none of it had been real.  Stupid, stupid. 

Though you know now that it had all been lie, you still have moments, usually in the dead of night when sleepiness strips you of your ability to reason and overthink, where you simply just mourn.  Mourn the loss of what you had thought, no - felt in the very depth of your heart was a true, deep love.  It didn’t matter that it had all been an invention of your mind – the love you felt had been genuine for you, and you had cherished and held it dear.  The tears you shed during these periods of grieving are for the loss of your own false happiness and for the man that you had believed it.  It didn’t matter that they were never real to begin with, you had lost them all the same.

Your fog extends into the work week and you do something you haven’t done in ages: you take it off citing illness – you sleep, cry and try not to think of the crushing backlog you’ll face when you eventually return to work.  Near the end of the week, you make a phone call that you’ve been dreading but know is necessary.  Lala comes over the same day on her lunch hour – she thought you were just sick, having taken your excuse for missing the last brunch at face value, but when you burst into tears upon seeing her, she immediately knows that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Taking you straight to her clinic, she slots you in with a fellow nurse right away so you can get what you’ve been dreading over with.  During the self-blame episodes of your emotion spiral, the weight of Din’s cheating and its possible consequences aside from the shattering of your heart have started to press down on you.  You definitely don’t need one more anxiety to occupy your thoughts, and this particular problem you could do something about.  You need to do something and accordingly you find yourself sitting in the clean but impersonal examination room answering the very kind nurse’s survey questions to determine what tests you need.

“Is there any particular reason you need a screening or is this routine?”

“My boyfriend cheated on me,” you say this flat, factually.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.   How long was your relationship?” her response is similarly dispassionate.

“Nearly a year.”

“During that time, how many sexual partners did you have?”

“Just the one.”

“Had you been tested prior to engaging in sexual activities with your partner?”

“Yes, all clean.”

“Was you partner tested?”

“He said he was clean.”  You can only answer what Din told you, with no confidence in whether or not it was the truth.

“Do you know how many other partners your partner had while you were together?”

“… no.”  Tears start to line your lower lash line.

“How long was he engaging in sexual activities with other partners?”

“… I really don’t know.”  Oh no, oh no, you’re going to cry.  Because you really don’t know any of it.  It's awful enough imaging that Din had been messing around with Vanessa the whole time that you and him had been together – if he was capable of that, who’s to say there weren’t others?

“Ok.  To identify the tests you need, I just need to ask about your sexual activities with your partner over the last year.  Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did you kiss on the mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you engage in vaginal fingering?”

“Yes.”

“Anal fingering? Receiving, giving?”

“Yes. No.”

“Did you engage in oral sex? Receiving, giving?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Did you engage in penetrative vaginal sex?”

“Yes.”

“With protection? Or without?”

“Without.”  This is the only question you answer with shame.  Yes, everything had been consensual, but this – the decision to not use condoms was one made based on a mutual trust; a trust you gave openly and willingly to someone who hadn’t deserved it.  You had been careless in this respect – caught up in your feelings and your mistaken instinct that had told you Din was worth trusting.

“Did you engage in penetrative anal se-“

And so on, and so forth.  To the best of your ability, you answer clinically and without feeling, trying not to let the white hot flames of shame and anger simmering in your stomach boil up and over.  You had trusted Din, with your heart yes, but also your body.  One of the things you had loved about Din was how he always seemed to prioritized both your emotional and physical comfort and safety during your sexual activities, but for possibly the entirety of your relationship, he had actually been putting you in danger – taking a risk for you that you hadn’t consent to.  You don’t know how many other partners he was with when he was with you or if he had been safe with them – his cavalier approach to your health makes you sick. 

This feels good. It feels good to be angry instead of sad.

You wait patiently for the nurse to return with the swabs and containers and other equipment you need to self administer the tests.  Silently and alone, you follow the instructions while hot tears cascade over your cheeks.  It had felt good to be angry at Din for a moment, but it took more energy than you had to sustain it; the anger burned out quickly, leaving behind only sadness and embarrassment for having allowed yourself to be put in this position at all.

After leaving the samples where directed, you redress and meet Lala back in the waiting room and she takes you home.  You tell her that it’s okay if she tells the rest of the girls what happened, but you don’t know if you can deal with talking about it just yet and she nods understandingly.  You know your friends will be supportive (and possibly violent), but the strength required to feel your feelings and simultaneously express and explain them out loud doesn’t sound like something you have right now.  Not for the first time, you’re grateful that your friends are unflinchingly kind and understanding of you.

By the time the next Sunday brunch rolls around, your internal reservoir levels for self pity and destructive thoughts have lowered considerably.  You’re mainly just sad for what you thought was and what will never be, wallowing in the loss of what you had imagined would be a happy future with Din.

The girls are not quite that far along in their emotional journeys, but you’re better equipped now to answer their questions and receive their outbursts and reactions.  They all have choice words for Din ranging from lying cheating bastard to dickless waste of DNA.  Threats of violence to his personal (and commercial) property, as well as his physical being are put forth, predictably by Rory and less predictably from Katie.  Bea and Jen focus on drilling into you that you’re in no way at fault and that you hadn’t been wrong or stupid to trust and love Din the way you did.  Lala, being the only one to have seen you when you were in your darkest place, just holds your hand firmly, giving it a reassuring squeeze every so often.  You cry into your eggs and your friends shower you with comfort and support until you feel a little more like a human who is loved again.

One month ATN (After That Night)

Oof - you’re hungry.  It’s been a long morning of straight through meetings with no breaks until only now.  Well past lunch, it’s later than you would usually come, but you hope that your favourite sandwich shop still has some good options left – you’re starving. 

Walking in, the shop isn’t busy (which honestly makes sense as it’s nearing 2:00 pm) and the take away fridge is fairly bare, but with some satisfaction, you see your favourite sandwich sitting all by its lonesome on the top shelf.  Hand already out as you approach the refrigerated display, you reach up on your toes, just to have a big hand dart in ahead of your smaller one and snatch the sandwich out of your reach.

Falling back on the flats of your feat, you’re comically upset – this sandwich was your reward for your overly hectic morning and your disappointment is being further fueled by rising levels of hangry.  Maybe this nice man will offer you back the sandwich if you ask kindly; ready to give this sandwich stealer the sweetest most saccharine smile you can muster, you turn to face him and…

“Paz?”

“Lil’ Lady?”

This could be awkward.  You had loved Paz too.  Part of the great sense of loss you felt when you and Din broke up was from also suddenly losing the friendships you had made through him.  The Mandos, Poe and Lisa, Cass and even Boba had made up what had become a little family to you; the sense of belonging and love you had felt when they welcomed you into their fold and treated you as one of their own was one that you had treasured – their trust in you was not something you took lightly and you had kept their secrets with pride.  You had loved them all as well. 

Of course, like a knife to the heart, you’ve since come to the hurtful realization that those friendships were not as true or deep as you had thought either.  In all likelihood, Din’s friends were probably well aware of his cheating, or at the very least that his feelings for you didn’t run as deep as yours did him.  Though it saddened you, you couldn’t exactly be mad – their loyalty was to Din, not you.  At one time you may have felt some bitterness at this, but right now, seeing Paz for the first time after so long… you feel only happiness at seeing an old friend.

There’s a beat of silence and then it seems you both reach for a hug - it’s quick but warm.

“How have you been?” you ask, simultaneously; chuckling with you, Paz gestures for you to go first.

“Oh,” you don’t really know how to answer; Paz will surely know what transpired between you and Din.  Devastated?  Crushed?  Facing a crisis of self-confidence?  You opt for a watered-down version of the truth, “I’m as good as expected.  Busy at work.”

“Same.  With work, that is,” Paz smiles warmly at you; he’s missed you too.

“You down here for work today?” Suddenly recalling that Din had been downtown for Mando work the first time you met, you try not to let the pain of the memory show on your face.

“Yup.  Work.” Paz won’t tell you that he’s on a security detail, even though its not yours (you're under the careful watch of Koska and Iggy today).

You’re not going to ask about Din.  You’re not going to ask about Din, “How is… everyone?”

Paz assumes you must mean Din but he doesn’t know how to answer your question.  A shell of a man?  A man possessed when it came to the investigation into the threat made against you?  Depressed as all hell?  Paz can only parrot back your earlier response, “Uh, as well as can be expected.  Things have been tense, there’s a lot of stuff going on.”

You obviously don’t ask for details – it’s not your place anymore, and in truth, you feel like it never really was but you try to smile anyways, “Well, you can have the sandwich then.”

Paz looks down at the sandwich he’s still holding in his hand and laughs, “Are you sure?”

Nodding happily, it feels good to joke around with Paz again, “Definitely.  I’m here everyday.  I can have it anytime.”

“Ok, only if you let me buy you your sandwich, Lil' Lady.”

Beaming, you acquiesce, “Deal.”

Grabbing another sandwich from the fridge, you join Paz in line; the two of you standing together in comfortable silence.  You don’t know how it happens but a question that’s been silently buzzing in your mind slips out without permission, “Paz – can I ask you?  Are Din and Vanessa still together?”

You regret it the second the words leave your mouth, tears springing to your eyes.  Looking up at Paz, wide-eyed and embarrassed, you cover your mouth with your hands as if trying to magically stuff the words back in, “Omigod!! Paz!  I’m sorry!  That was... oh gosh... just really, really inappropriate of me.  Please don’t answer.  I never should have asked that.  Seriously.  Don’t answer please.  Besides, I don’t think either answer would make me very happy.”

Paz gives you a warm side hug and a sad look before he says reassuringly, “It’s okay, Lil’ Lady.  Don’t worry about it.”  He insists on buying you a cookie when you get up to the counter and you accept gratefully – you need all the comfort you can get right now.

The two of you say your quiet, but friendly goodbyes on the sidewalk outside of the sandwich shop; each genuinely hoping you’ll see the other again, but knowing that you likely won’t.

---

Paz is hovering.  Din can feel it, but he doesn’t look up from his seat on the ringside bench where he’s checking through an equipment list on his clipboard.

Paz continues to shuffle around until Din sighs and gives in to what his friend so obviously wants; looking up and tilting his head as his way of saying 'What?'

“Saw the Lil' Lady today.”

Immediately, Din’s heart leaps into his throat and his now empty chest constricts painfully; forcing himself to look back down at his paperwork, Din only grunts to acknowledge that he heard Paz.  Clearly Paz has something to say and in all the time they’ve been friends, Din has never been able to get Paz to keep his thoughts to himself, so he just waits.

“Ran into her at a sandwich shop near her office.  She looks good.”

Silence.

“She gave me her sandwich.”

Din closes his eyes, “Was it the egg salad?”

“Yeah.  How did you know?” Paz can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It’s her favourite,” Din says simply. 

For some reason, this takes all of the wind out of Paz’s sails and he lays a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “She asked how everyone was, but it’s clear she was thinking of you.  Why don’t you call her, brother?”

Even if the whole point of what he had done to you wasn’t so you would stay as far away from him as possible, Din can’t imagine a world where you would want to talk to him, “She hates me.  I fucked up, and I hurt her.  She doesn’t think about me.”

Paz doesn’t want to bring up your question about Vanessa, but he can’t help but think it must mean something that you asked at all, “Maybe she’ll forgive you.”

Din is done with this conversation; he gets up and starts to head towards his office, “I don’t deserve her forgiveness.  I don’t deserve her.”

Two Months ATN

Din never allows himself to see you.  You’re a creature of habit and for the most part, your life after him has reverted to normal; it would be so easy for him to catch a glimpse of you whenever he needed to see for himself that you’re alright.  If he was lucky, he might even catch one of your many soft and sweet expressions that he misses so much and be able to pretend for a moment that it was for him.

But he doesn’t allow it.  Part of it is a means of self punishment – Din chastises himself endlessly for hurting you; he doesn’t deserve to look upon your face, he doesn’t deserve any comfort.  But ultimately, it really comes down to his own lack of self control. 

Din makes the mistake of checking in with your daytime security detail in person only once, a couple of weeks after your breakup.  Din is chatting with Mayfeld through the latter’s rolled down car window, when, as if he senses your very presence, he looks up to see you exiting your office building looking positively elated at being able to leave work at a decent hour (for you) – your quick and graceful steps towards the subway easily hold Din’s gaze through no effort of your own and his body starts to move towards you of his own accord.  He may have very well walked right into oncoming traffic trying to get to you if Miggs didn’t have a firm grip on the back of his shirt.

No, he has absolutely no self control when it came to you.  Every part of Din yearns for every part of you.  Your smile, your laugh, the sweetness of your very being and the steadfast comfort of your company.  He wishes for nothing more than to make you happy again, to be there for you to lighten your load, to make you laugh so hard you snort, the way he used to pride himself on being able to do; what he wouldn’t give to hear you coo sweetly to Al, to swim in the melodic lilt of your voice when you recall a funny story from work or your friends, or to drink in your heady moans and cries while he gave you every pleasure you deserved. 

Din knows that if he allowed himself to be in your presence for even a moment, he would throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.  Plead and grovel until you took him back and then everything, the very reason for all this misery, would be for naught.  He would do anything to see you, hear you, have you again, except risk your safety.  So, he leaves the protocol for your security to others, and he never lets himself go where he knows you might be – he exercises what control he has, so that he never loses control where it counts the most.

But his dreams he cannot control.  And Din dreams of you constantly.

He comes to both look forward to and dread these dreams.  In his dreams you don’t hate him, and they almost always start off with you looking at him like you used to, with love and admiration.  Sometimes the two of you are in a memory, maybe a special date or occasion, or even better, doing something beautifully mundane like walking Al – something the two of you did a million times without thought, just a routine part of the life you had started to build together.  But more often than not, the two of you are in bed.  Sometimes his, sometimes yours, but always just looking, talking, touching.  Din could live in these quiet moments of devotion forever. 

But the dreams never end well.  He discovered that once you left the bed in the dream, you would disappear.  Getting up to find you, Din would find the apartment empty and quiet and no matter where he goes in the dream afterwards, you would be nowhere to be found.  After this happened a few times, he would try to keep you in bed or at the very least, not let you out of Dream Din’s sight, but it never works.  No matter what he does, by the end of the dream you’re not his anymore. 

A horrifying recurrence as of late is that he follows Dream You into your kitchen to find Vanessa sitting at the island while you, crying, start to cook breakfast at the stove for him and her.  He recognizes the look you give him whenever he reaches this part of the dream, it’s the same one you gave him on that last night on his apartment landing – the look of devastation, betrayal, shock.  Your unspoken How could you?  You were supposed to love me above all else, haunts him even after he wakes with a start.  Every time Din has this dream, he relives what he did to you and he feels sick.

Even when it’s not this particular iteration, Din wakes from every nightmare of losing you again sweating and regretting everything.  In these moments, alone in a bed that’s remained cold and uninviting since you last graced it with your soft body, Din tears into himself.  What the fuck was his problem anyways?  He had made his proverbial bed and now he has to lie in it.  What would have been the fucking point of putting you through all this if he was just going to be a weak ass piece of shit and run back to you because it killed him to be apart from you?  Put you through hell and then put you in danger?  No, he can't run from it anymore: this is the price he has to pay for being who he is, for having done the things he had – he doesn't deserve good things.  He doesn't deserve you. 

What he does deserve is this cruelest of ironies: that the only way he's still allowed to love you is to take care of you by keeping you as far away from him as possible.

Four Months ATN

Oy!  Din Djarin!!

Startled by the loud and sharp toned voice that carries over the noise of traffic, Din stops in his tracks; turning towards the sound of the bark, he recognizes your friend Rory barreling towards him.  For a moment, he’s terrified that she might get hit by a car crossing the street to get at him, but the cars somehow seem to understand the determination of her gait and the ferocity in her facial expression and all roll to a stop at her outstretched hand.  You always said that Rory was a force.

Din waits dumbly in the middle of the sidewalk, ready to take the inevitably beating, verbal or otherwise – certain he could not escape her wrath even if he wanted to.  Perhaps he would be tempted to try if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe that he deserves whatever is about to come his way.

As soon as Rory steps up onto the curb, two balled up fists of rage ram right into Din’s chest, the force of which, if he had not been braced for it, might have sent this former boxing champ flying backwards.

You!!! 

An accusatory finger is now poking him incessantly, over and over, pushing right into his sternum.

Din holds his two hands up, as if to surrender, but doesn’t do anything to stop her oncoming assault.  It’s starting to hurt a little, but he knows he deserves it and more.

Liar!

Cheater!

Pathetic!

Asshole.

Garbage human.

Piece of shit.

How you could do that to her?!

She did nothing but love you. 

She’s the sweetest, kindest, most loving person you will ever fucking be with, and this is how you treat her?

You ungrateful worm.

You’ll never find anyone better than her.

You never fucking deserved her, you twat.

Din takes every angry word spat at him with a resigned expression and downcast eyes.  Every word is true and he knows it.  He welcomes this even.  No one has been angry with him, except save himself.  Not Paz, or any of the Mandos, not even Boba.  No one has yelled at him or hurled insults at him, or called him out for the despicable person he is to have hurt you the way he did.  His sweet, pretty bird.  No, not his anymore.  He swallows every single one of Rory’s admonishments willingly and his head might even slightly nod in agreement.

Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, you fucking coward?

Arms dropping to his side in defeat, Din hangs his head and asks the only thing he wants to know, even though he's sure he isn’t allowed, “How is she?”

How is she?! What the fuck do you mean ‘how is she’? How the fuck do you think she is??

“What I mean is… I’m not still hurting her, am I?”

Silence.

“She’s okay now, right?  She hates me, but I don’t matter anymore?  She doesn’t think of me enough to still hurt her?”

Rory stops and evaluates the man standing in front of her.  He looks… broken.  She’s been throwing all her weight into every push, poke, smack she’s laid on Din and he’s taken it all.  Absorbed it along with every harsh word out of her mouth; he hasn’t fought back or even flinched - almost as if he wants her to hit him.  To scream at him.  And now, with the only words he’s spoken, he’s asking to confirm, with what almost sounds like hope, that you’ve forgotten him.  Din’s choice of words strike Rory as odd.  He wants to make sure he’s not “still hurting” you?? 

Suddenly, her mouth drops open as she retracts her hands, “… you didn’t do it.”

Din looks shocked and almost terrified.  He opens and closes his mouth several times but nothing comes out.  No denial or refute of what Rory now realizes has been completely obvious.

“You didn’t cheat on her.  You never cheated on her,” Rory’s tone is softer now, but determined and confident.  She’s leaving no room for argument, not letting Din worm his way out of the truth.

With a sigh, Din has no choice but to confess, “How could I?  Why would I ever want anyone but her?  The most perfect creature to ever exist.”  If he had seemed defeated before, Din is now positively deflating right before Rory’s eyes.

“You love her.”  Again, not a question.

“Always.  Forever.”

“Why w-”

“Rory, please.  You must never tell her.  She has to go on hating me and wanting nothing to do with me,” fear is catching up with Din now.  If Rory tells you the truth, this plan to keep you safe will unravel.

Rory’s eyes widen in disbelief, “You have to be joking.  Do you know what you put her through?  And it’s not even true??”

Quietly, Din asks, “How much has she told you and your friends about what I do?”

“That you own a gym?” Rory crosses her arms and gives Din an incredulous look.

“What else I do.  What my old job was.  Who I worked for.  Who I’m connected with,” he has to be able to make her understand.

Rory lets these words hang in the air for a moment.  No – you were always pretty tight lipped about what Din might be involved in outside of athletics.  It did seem that in the months leading up to your breakup, you would often stress over Din’s work and wellbeing, and though your friends never asked you to expand on it, it wouldn’t make sense for the responsibilities a gym owner to give you that kind of anxiety.

“You got a knife wound once.  Lala told us,” Rory recalls.

Din nods, “And that was nothing.  That’s the least of what the people who might come after me would be capable of.  She’s in danger just by being with me.”

“You wouldn’t protect her?”

“Of course, I would.  With my life.  But why should she be in danger at all?  She didn’t choose this life.”

“She chose you.”

“She shouldn’t have.”        

“You don’t get to decide that for her?!!”

Din knows that.  He shouldn’t have chosen for you.  But he made the decision that he thought would keep you safe and now you both have to live with his mistake, “I know, Rory… I know, but it’s done now.”

“Undo it, asshole.”

Like he hasn’t thought about it a million times.  Like he doesn’t wake up and his first thought when he opens his eyes in the morning isn’t to find you and crawl on his hands and knees and admit that he had fucked up in how he handled everything and beg your forgiveness.  Sometimes Din’s halfway out the door before one of two things stop him.  The first is the very real possibility that you would tell him to go to hell – you had loved him better than anyone ever had, better than he deserved, and he had callously thrown away the greatest gift ever bestowed upon him.  The second, is the very real fear from the threat made against you; Din hasn’t eliminated it and what if, just what if, what he’s doing is actually working and removing you as a worthy target?  Yes, he shouldn’t have gone about things this way, but… what if it was keeping you safe for now?

“Someone threatened her, Rory.”

This stops Rory as she’s about to open her mouth to say something else.  Closing her mouth, she studies Din and her shoulders drop, “Who?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to find out who’s behind it but I will.  Until then, I have to try and make her less of a target.  Please.  Rory.  Please.  Make sure she stays away from me.  You can’t tell her any of this.”

“But… she doesn’t know?”

“No. I don’t want her to be scared.  And she is being protected - all the time, I promise.  But the safest thing for her is to stay the hell away from me.  If whoever wants to hurt me doesn’t think they can do it through her, then she’ll be safe.  Please, Rory.”

Din is begging her now.  His eyes imploring Rory to understand and decide as he once did, that your well being has to come above all, including loyalty and love.  He sees it in her eyes as she relents, much the same way his must have once upon a time, and she nods, “Okay. I won’t tell her.  And you promise she’s safe right now?”

“I promise.  I… wouldn’t be able to live like this if I couldn’t at least do that for her.”  Is it worth it?  Yes, your life, your safety is worth anything and everything to him.

“You think you can get them?  The people behind the threat?”

Din nods, “I’m sure of it.  I’ll make sure of it.  I’ll take care of it.  That’s a promise I won’t break.”

“Okay.  You should tell her afterwards though.”

“Maybe.”

“She deserves the truth, Din,” Rory gives him one last exasperated look.

“She deserves the world, Rory.”

The two of them give one another a silent nod of mutual understanding before parting ways.  They might not see eye to eye on everything, but Din trusts that your friend will put your wellbeing and safety first; she loves you just as much as he does.  Rory leaves Din behind feeling conflicted in a way she hadn’t thought possible when she confronted him earlier – the last thing she expected was to sympathize with him, but it’s become clear to her: the only person who’s been hurting more from your breakup than you, is Din.

Five Months ATN

“I want to go out with Mark.”

Four heads look up from their brunch with lighting speed to stare at you, shocked by your sudden announcement.

Feeling a bit awkward at this reception, you go on, “… I mean if he’s even still available.  And if he’s not, is there someone else at your firm that might be, Jen?”

Jen looks at you curious and hesitantly excited, “I can check, but I don’t think he’s in a relationship?  He broke up with someone a couple of months ago.  You really want me to set you up?”

You don’t catch the looks that Rory and Lala exchange before Rory cautiously asks, “Do you even like Mark?”

“Hey!” Jen looks scandalized.

You’re slightly bewildered watching your two friends seemingly stare daggers at each other, “I don’t even know Mark? I just…” 

You sigh. 

“… I just have to do something.  Try something new.  Babes, it’s been months and… I’m still not over him.”  Your friends know that the “him” in question is not Mark.

It’s been five months and you’re still in a state of melancholy and heartbreak that you can’t quite articulate.  The days where you’d cycle through extreme emotion, be it intense sadness, justifiable anger, or self-pitying shame, have long since passed.  You burned those emotional candles to their proverbial wicks and for the time that they were lit within you, they served their purpose.  You’ve processed those emotions and laid them to rest.

What remains is a type of grief, a longing from your soul that you struggle to contain on a day-to-day basis.

The best way you can think of describing it is Hiraeth – the Welsh word that conveys the feeling of “a longing for a time, place, or person that feels like home but may no longer exist or that never existed at all”; when you miss Din, it feels like a type of homesickness.  And though far from being lonely in your life, your heart nevertheless maintains an empty chamber that you are dearly afraid may be forever reserved for Din.  Your Din.  The one you had loved and thought loved you.

You miss it all - everything that had never been real: the closeness, the intimacy, the safety of Din’s embrace.  You miss the way he looked at you and made you feel like the only person in the world who mattered; you missed his adoring touch and the way that he would be soft and gentle with you when you knew he harnessed such strength and power within those same hands.  He had made you feel cherished and special, appreciated and exalted.  Yes, it had all been a lie, but you heart had believed in it and the memory of what you’ve irretrievably lost haunts you every day still.

You’ve never been one to believe the adage that to get over someone, you had to get “under” someone else and you’re certainly not looking to replace what you thought you had or even date for the sake of dating.  You’re just simply out of ideas.  You need… a distraction.  A real-life person to think about, instead of one that only ever existed in your head.

“Don’t push yourself if you’re not ready, babe,” Lala says, gently.

“I don’t want to ‘get back out there.’ I just need…”

“A rebound?” Rory’s assessment is unfortunately, spot on.

You look sheepish, “That sounds terrible.  But something like a distraction.”

Jen is hardly bothered, “It’s okay.  I won’t tell Mark but I don’t think he would mind even if he knew.  Men are weird as hell.”

Everyone laughs and you go back to your breakfast, half listening as Jen chirps some of Mark’s merits and tells you that she’s going to try and set something up for the upcoming Friday.  You don’t notice the worried and pinched looks that Lala and Rory continue to give one another for the remainder of brunch.

It’s absolutely pouring today.  The phrase ‘raining cats and dogs’ must have been inspired by a similar rainfall, you’re sure.  You hold your umbrella as close to your head as you can while deftly trying to keep your shoes dry by doing little and big hops to avoid puddles.  It’s a relief when you finally make it to the overhang in front of your office building and can shake out your umbrella before stepping inside.  Wiping your feet on the already soaked through mats that building maintenance has put down, you wonder if the weather will clear up before your date with Mark tomorrow.

You’re slipping your still dripping wet umbrella into a plastic sleeve when you hear a commotion by the security check desk.  Gabriel, the head of security is arguing with someone who by the looks of it is soaking wet and trying to get through the security turnstiles.  As you approach with your own access card already in hand, the voices get louder:

“Dude.  Come ON!”

“Miss, like I said, you have to have security access in order to move past this point.”

“I’m not going to go anywhere in the building, I promise!  I just need to get to the subway.”

“I heard you already, miss.  You’ll have to use one of the other two subway entrances.  This one is for people who have access to this building only.”

“It’s pouring!! Can’t you see?  The other two entrances are both over a block away and I’m already soaked!  I just want to get home!”

“I won’t ask again, miss.  Please leave.  There are people who need to get through.”

You’re shocked.  You’ve never heard Gabriel get frustrated or raise his voice before.  But that’s not why you’re shocked.  It’s the girl’s voice.  You know it. 

It’s Vanessa.

In some other universe you might hail this as karma, but in truth, you only have sympathy for the girl you see before you.  It really is miserable out and you’re sure that Vanessa isn’t some corporate espionage spy – she really is just asking for a little help to get out of the rain and home before she gets sick.  Without overthinking it, you come up behind her and give Gabriel a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, Gabriel, I can take her to the subway.”

Vanessa turns and looks at you with a wide-eyed, almost scared expression on her face.  You can’t help but feel bad for her.  Obviously because she’s soaking wet and shivering, but you think she must not have been met with much kindness in her young life.

“Ma’am, that’s not really protocol…”

Your reassuring smile is now extended to Vanessa as well.  You want her to know you’re here to help her, truly, “Gabriel, it’s fine.  I know her.  And, even if I didn’t, I could never let you send a woman out into that downpour when we could so easily help her get to where she needs to go, okay?”

Gabriel nods as you swipe your access card against the reader and you gesture for Vanessa to go through before you follow.

The two of you walk silently towards the subway for a few moments.

“You don’t have to…”

You wave off Vanessa’s concern, “I think Gabriel’s watching, so I’ll just walk you all the way to the subway entrance so he doesn’t give you anymore trouble, okay?”

She nods and the two of you continue on.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Your answer is genuine, “I really don’t know any other way to be towards you.”  It’s true.  Yes, Din had cheated on you with her, but you hadn’t been dating Vanessa, you had been dating Din.  He had wronged you, not her (even if she had probably been a bit smug about it).

Vanessa nods again, the expression on her face seems to relax into some kind of revelation that you don’t quite understand.  When you get to the subway entrance, the two of you pause awkwardly before she finally speaks, “Thank you.”

Again, you try to smile as kindly as you can, “It’s okay.  I meant what I said to Gabriel – I didn’t like that he was trying to send you back out in the rain.  Here.” You hold out your umbrella, still in its plastic sleeve.

Vanessa doesn’t take it, even as you continue to extend it in her direction, “I don’t know how far you have to go once you reach your stop – the rain may not have let up by then.  Really, take it.  It’s my firm’s – I have a bunch more upstairs.”

This time she does open her hands and when she grasps the umbrella’s handle to take it from you, she blurts out, “I never slept with him!”

Silence hangs between the two of you at her statement.  You don’t know what she means at all, so you just say, “I’m sorry?”

Vanessa is looking down at the umbrella in her hands, words just spilling out, “That night.  The night you ‘caught’ me and Din – you didn’t walk in on anything.  I don’t know how, but he said he knew you were coming over and he asked me if I could make it look like he and I had been sleeping together when you showed up.  We didn’t do anything.  I played on my phone on the couch until we heard you knock.  I- don’t know why I did it… actually… no, that’s a lie.  I do.”  She finally looks up at you.

“Din was so in love with you.  Like seriously, so stupid in love with you.  He hadn’t been with anyone for a while before he met you, and those of us who… had gone out with him once or twice just got used to it, I guess.  Like we wanted him but he didn’t want anyone and that was fine.  Then he met you and all of a sudden, he was the doting boyfriend, head over heals in love, showing you off to all his friends, taking you to meet Boba.  And then it was so clear: it wasn’t that he wasn’t the boyfriend type, it was you.  He only wanted you.  I guess… I was jealous.” Vanessa shrugs, ashamed, “So when the chance came up to hurt you... I jumped at it.  I’m sorry.”

To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.  There is so much to process.  You’re not sure what Vanessa is asking from you, but you do appreciate her honesty, “I mean, I guess I get why you did it.  But why did Din?”

Vanessa shrugs again, “I really don’t know, I didn’t ask.  It didn’t matter to me, I guess.  I’m sorry.  But after you left, I… propositioned him?  Thought I would shoot my shot since we were both basically half undressed.  He turned me down and practically kicked me out.  All he cared about was making sure you got home safe.  You’re all he cared about.  Always.  It was only ever you.”

“I- ” you’re speechless.  Actually speechless, “Thank you for telling me, Vanessa.  I- still don’t understand any of it, but I always appreciate honesty.  Truly.”

And with that, Vanessa gives you a little wave of the umbrella you gave her as a final thanks before she disappears down the stairs into the subway station, leaving you dumbfounded and shellshocked.

It had been a lie.

Din hadn’t cheated on you.  Not with Vanessa.  Not that night, or according to her, any other night.  You had been his one and only.  The way you had always thought.  The way he had always made you feel.

Every spiraling assumption and devastating conclusion you’ve drawn about your relationship over the past five months is now being called into question: that he never loved you, that he wasn’t the man you believed him to be, that the devotion in your relationship had been one sided.  Had it all been real?  Was your Din real?

But he had lied. 

He had made up an elaborate lie to get away from you.  To hurt you.  This revelation gives rise to feelings that you thought you had long worked through and put to bed: betrayal, hurt, disbelief, anger.  On top of this fast rising tide of emotions that you’re afraid might drown you rides a question you've never felt like you wanted the answer to when it was simply that Din was a cheater: Why?

The date is going okay, you think.  Actually, it’s going exactly how you knew it would – you’re not into it.  Mark is honestly nice enough, funny enough, charming enough – you can see why Jen was always trying to get you to go out with him.  But he’s not Din.

You haven’t told anyone about your run in with Vanessa because you still don’t know what to make of it all; you have pieces of a puzzle that you didn’t even know existed, new questions, even fewer answers, and a whole new host of confused feelings.  Unsure of your own heart, you hadn’t known what to say to Jen to cancel this date that she lovingly setup for you at your request, so here you are.

Even if your overthinking brain wasn’t in overdrive analyzing and reanalyzing everything you learned yesterday, your heart, which is still working out your feelings towards Din, has unequivocally softened.  The Din of your memories, the one for whom your heart still beats deep down had been real, and he had never betrayed you in the manner you believed for the past few months.  The love you had felt with him had been true and the affection and devotion that had been cornerstones of your relationship have started making their way back into your chest.

You feel sort of bad about Mark.  Yes, you had been very clear with Jen and yourself that this date didn’t mark any great interest of yours to start dating again, but you know you could be putting in more of an effort on this date.  You try.  You really do.

After the pre-dinner drinks are finished and the waiter’s taken your dinner order, you excuse yourself to use the restroom, hoping for a few minutes alone to gather your thoughts.  Heading towards the bathrooms, you walk down a hall that opens to the restaurant’s private party rooms on one side.  All the doors are opened and you peek in to see that most of the rooms are empty, one of them being cleared from a large party that must have just left; when you get to the last doorway, you’re stopped dead in your tracks when you see who's inside.

It's Din.

He’s leaning back in a chair that’s been placed further back and away from the dining table that must centre the room; part of the meeting but not an active participant – a perimeter guard.  His handsome profile is as striking as you remember; his strong aquiline nose and cut jawline that’s currently flexing as he swallows hold your attention by their very existence - how is he here just when all your thoughts happen to be of him?  Din’s chocolate brown eyes are fixed on someone or something in the room, but he must feel your gaze because he turns and sees you – keeping his expression neutral, as if he doesn’t want anyone else in the room to notice you, you still see his eyes soften as they lock with yours and your heartbeat picks up a little.

Hi, you mouth shyly.

Hi, Din's lips curve up slightly at your sweet expression as he mouths back, you look nice.

You do too, because he does.  He’s in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and jet-black tie; the monochromatic look works for him.  Din’s slicked back hair is different – you’re so much more used to seeing his curls loose and tousled, but the change isn’t unwelcomed.  He looks professional.  Devastating.

Work?  Your head tilts a little so you can see a little further in the room and Din knows you see Paz sitting in front of him wearing a nearly identical outfit.  He nods, You?

Date.

Din nods slightly, eyes unreadable, Be safe.

I will. Not sure how much more you can communicate this way or even what you want to say, you give Din a little wave before continuing down the hall to the restroom.

---

Din cannot sit still.

Date? You were on a date?

But that’s not even the most jarring thing about seeing you unexpectedly tonight at the same restaurant where Boba’s holding a family meeting.  What’s really turning Din’s world upside down is that you didn’t look upset to see him.  Your expression was soft, kind and inviting.  As if you didn’t hate him. 

You’re over him.  That has to be it.  You were over him, wholly and completely; much too sweet to hold onto any malice towards him, you had treated him politely, like an old acquaintance.  He wants to be glad – happy that you’re no longer hurting and that his transgressions against you didn’t leave a permanent mark on your beautiful soul.  But his heart feels like it’s made of lead; dropping from his chest into his stomach when he thinks of you being on a date.  Din gets up and takes a walk towards the main dining room of the restaurant, looking to satisfy his morbid curiosity.

He sees you right away.  Your back is to him, but he knows its you.  You sit across from a perfectly respectable looking man dressed in a sharp suit – the both of you clearly having come straight from work.  The man probably has some smart corporate job like you, like a lawyer or someone who underwrites space rockets or something cool.  The man is making you laugh; Din can tell by the way your shoulders shake.  He imagines your smile and the way that your eyes crinkle when you think something is super funny but you don’t want to let loose one of those melodic laughs of yours where you throw back your head and the resulting song carries over the crowd.  Din watches as you swirl your wine glass the way he always thought was super adorable, with two of your fingers pressed against the base of the glass stem, before you lift those same fingers to make a gesture with your hand that indicates you’re adding to your date’s story with some witty comment of your own.  Your date’s face lights up and his look of admiration and joy from the pleasure of your company is one that Din knows well. 

He decides can’t watch anymore and slinks back down the hallway; heart ripped to pieces, leaving you to your pleasant evening.

Thanks so much for being patient with me - these chapters are emotionally hard to write and even harder to edit 😅 Since I'm once again yeeting this into universe on a random day instead of my usual posting date, adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (omigod if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo

[chaifootsteps]

While HB has one of the worst fanbases I've seen for a supposedly progressive show, it's not alone in having its share of brain dead takes. In some other fandoms I've been in, whether chill or not, I've seen some truly bizarre, pretzel-twisting moon logic takes being said with utmost sincerity. And it's always been for two reasons - the first is shipping wars, the second is stanning. It feels like whenever fandoms have characters they stan - especially if that character gets a lot of fandom heat - then instead of disengaging they'll bend over backwards to insist their fave is perfect or just not that bad. Or that their trauma excuses them while the trauma of anyone who takes issue with their behavior and calls them out doesn't count or doesn't matter.

In other words fans get farther away from normal moral standards just because they've warped logic that far to accommodate their fave - otherwise how else can they say things like 'Stolas physically abusing his butler onscreen isn't that bad' or 'the full moon deal is totally not coercion because [insert abhorrent thing they probably wouldn't usually say here]' and actually mean it? it happens for other characters too - they excuse Loona beating Blitzo in the worst onscreen physical domestic violence on the show with flimsy excuses like 'it's slapstick!' and ignore that that's the entire issue critics have; not one episode prior a slap was played as the height of drama so the show just wants to have its melodramatic cake and eat it too. It happens in reverse with the characters around them too - Stella gets assigned a whole load of extra ill intent that's really stretching subtext to make it work, whereas Stolas' bad actions that are textual get excused by making up subtext to ensure the most obvious reading can't possibly be the right one (that the scene in murder family is exactly what it looked like and he was 100% intended to be a sex pest monster in the early episodes)

I think it just feels so much worse in helluva because the show completely messes up handling serious topics like SA and abuse, whereas other shows usually have OK to good handling on these issues (or at least have it right who the perpetrator and who the victim is) and it's the fandom who supplies the bad framing to excuse their faves or push their ship. With Helluva there never was a sensible framing to begin with - Viv is pushing the bad takes and a ship that's DOA herself and the fandom just responds to and exaggerates that. In other words I'm not surprised a fandom where the creator likes tweets saying 'Blitzo could have negotiated his way out of being coerced into sex at any time!' would end up like this. how could they have a chance to begin with when the creator and show itself is actively steering them towards awful logic like that? When it comes to warped logic, stanning abusive characters and pushing the worst ships possible, Helluva is that rare bit of media where the call is coming from inside the house

Oh yeah, no doubt about that. The HH/HB standom's a special kind of crazy and a special kind of stupid and cruel, but they're not the only fandom that just kind of...makes shit up and then pretends it's real. They just have the added issue of the show's creator consistently getting involved and encouraging, even demanding it.

[stellacartography]

Day 13 Jealous | Rose | Narrow

What! More @fluffbruary you say? How can I refuse?

They ate at Greg's antique kitchen table. Though well loved, it had seen better days. Greg had found a handsome linen tablecloth with navy piping to cover the table's pitted, uneven surface. Mycroft doubted he would regularly go to this much trouble when he ate alone. Perhaps he didn't even eat at this table at all.

"It was my grandmother's."

"Pardon?"

"The table." Greg smiled. "You're touching it. Probably wondering why I keep such a beat up old thing."

"I was wondering if you often eat at it."

Greg had picked at his meal. Mycroft thought of him as a man of big bites and swift consumption. Any time he'd witnessed Greg eating, he was often at work and eating quickly so as not to contaminate a scene. He wondered if Greg was nervous and what that might mean about the nature of their evening.

"I don't. Not often. When my sister comes over we'll sit at it for tea. Mostly I eat at my desk or on the sofa."

Mycroft scanned Greg's face. "It makes you happy to eat here. I'm sorry you don't get to do so more frequently."

Greg dropped his gaze. "It makes me happy to have someone to share it with. Until I do, it's just furniture."

Mycroft's heart flipped like a landed fish in his chest. "Well, I'm glad to give you a reason to use it."

They argued about dishes – an argument Greg won – and made their way to the sitting room where Greg sat next to Mycroft on the sofa and casually stretched his arm over the back. Mycroft sat with his back mere inches from Greg's hand.

"Have you selected a film?" Mycroft wanted to lean against the back of the sofa and into Greg's arm.

"I have. Not leaving that up to chance, am I?"

"You don't trust my choices?"

Greg grimaced. "It isn't that. I just think we've had enough of 'men are awful'. It's time for 'men are silly buggers'. Have you seen this one?"

He passed Mycroft the disc case. On it, two men were posed standing against a red background with one man in the foreground sporting a leather jacket. Mycroft shook his head then turned it over to read the synopsis but Greg snatched it back.

"Oh, don't spoil it!" Greg groused. "Just try to enjoy it."

"I like to be prepared, Greg."

"Yeah, but if you read that, you'll think it's sordid and it's not. Just watch. Please?" The look Greg directed at him was playful and pleading as he hit the button to start the film.

"Yes alright," Mycroft acquiesced. "I will not judge the film by its cover." Unthinking he settled back into his seat and froze when his shoulders contacted Greg's arm.

"This okay? Should have asked." Greg dropped his gaze. His cheeks might have been ever so slightly pink.

"I believe it falls well inside the realm of a hug."

"Only if you're comfortable with it."

"I am."

Greg looked up to search his face and Mycroft moved a fraction closer.

"It's... most welcome."

The softening of Greg's expression into something warm and fond took Mycroft's breath. Greg's eyes tracked over Mycroft's face and his lips parted as though he were about to say something when the film began. Greg looked away.

Right. Film. Talking. He could do this. "Is the entire film propaganda for the city of Sheffield?"

"If it is, it's not exactly effective propaganda."

Mycroft watched with horror as a pair of miscreants with a child in tow tried to steal a steel beam from a closed-down factory. After being locked in by a security guard, they proceed to cross the canal with their ill-gotten gains.

"They are endangering that child."

"Never underestimate the stupidity of the criminal class," Greg responded with a squeeze to Mycroft's shoulder. "Or the desperation of people without work. Very true to life, that."

Mycroft had no experience of being in community with such people, but he was enjoying this method of communication in which Greg's words could be accentuated with his touch. He wondered if he might find a way to touch Greg in turn, when Greg tensed.

"That brings you back, doesn't it? When blokes hurled around the word 'poof' like it was nothing? Don't hear that stuff at work nearly as much as I used to." Greg said it as though it impacted him personally.

Mycroft longed to touch Greg in reassurance without crossing a line. With a quick scan he eliminated Greg's leg (too overt), chest (it would bring their faces too close together), and shoulders (too awkward), settling instead for reaching across his own chest to squeeze the hand that had found a home on his shoulder. "That it is notable in its absence is significant."

Once all of the major characters had been introduced, Greg declared himself peckish and left to fetch them drinks and snacks. Almost against his will, Mycroft found himself stretching out along the sofa back to feel the remnants of Greg's warmth. The film caught his attention again as the characters began rehearsing their choreography and he nearly missed it when Greg sat back against his outstretched arm and passed him an open packet of crisps. A tray on Greg's coffee table held the stolen whisky bottle, tumblers, and tall glasses of water.

"Pour you one?" Greg offered.

Thinking it might assuage his nerves, Mycroft assented. The whisky burned smoothly down his throat and drew his attention away from the heat of Greg leaning back against him. His distraction allowed him to casually stroke Greg's upper arm with his thumb as the men on screen awkwardly stripped to their pants in their former foreman's sitting room.

Greg chuckled and Mycroft marvelled at the feeling of mirth against his arm. Greg sipped slowly from his tumbler and leant his head back to grin at Mycroft. Perhaps this was meant to be a date.

Mycroft imagined for a moment what it would be like to pull Greg close, forget about the film, and kiss his mouth. Greg would respond beautifully, push Mycroft onto his back, and make him forget anything else existed in the world.

Greg laughed again as a pair of men in tracksuits abandoned their work of repossessing the ex-foreman's television when confronted with six men in their underpants.

Or Greg would panic and push him away and then Mycroft would have ruined everything.

He excused himself and set off to find Greg's bathroom.

He washed his hands and stared at his face in the mirror. All he could see was an ageing, pathetic fool, ill-contented with his lot in life and jealous of his brother's happiness. He'd been avoiding Sherlock since that fateful night and the ensuing texts. He supposed he ought to find a reason to visit Baker Street soon and offer the expected congratulatory remarks, but he dreaded it.

Mycroft returned to the sitting room just in time to watch Lomper, the freckly, red-headed former security guard haul a nearly naked, stunning Guy through a first floor window by his narrow, well defined hips. They stood staring at one another in their red, faux-leather tearaway thongs before they both leant in for a kiss.

He couldn't see Greg's reaction from his current vantage point. Mycroft cautiously sat back down beside Greg, leaving a little more space between them.

"There you are. Thought I might have to file a missing persons report. Alright?" Greg's bright smile and warm concern soothed and burned him like his mouthful of whisky.

"Yes, of course." Mycroft shuffled a little closer.

Anthea's words came back to him. Behave as though it is a date... He leant in closer still, permitting himself the liberty of contact with Greg once more.

Greg pulled him in, absently stroking his shoulder as the men on screen attended a funeral in stolen suit jackets. When one quipped "There's nowt so queer as folk" in response to seeing two men holding hands, Greg sighed and squeezed Mycroft's shoulder.

Mycroft set his jaw. The courage of being openly gay in a blue-collar town was poignant. He thought back to himself in the late nineties. He would never have been so brave. He would have lost out on his entire career, would have become an entirely different person (though perhaps one who could navigate this situation with far more confidence).

He wasn't that person and he was here, now, with Greg Lestrade's arm wrapped around his shoulders, feeling utterly incapable of saying or doing anything about it. Perhaps the only thing for it was to be present, watch the film, offer a witticism or two, stay in the arc of Greg's outstretched arm as though he belonged. Mycroft breathed, let the film and Greg's touch soothe his racing thoughts.

Between the warmth and the whisky, Mycroft hardly noticed when he began to drift off. Beside him, Greg seemed equally at ease, his eyes half-hooded and glazed, blinking slowly as he grinned at the screen and occasionally at Mycroft.

The film ended with six bare-arsed actors before a sea of cheering extras, but neither of them were awake to see it.

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@totallysilvergirl, @bluebellofbakerstreet, @ghostofnuggetspast, @lisbeth-kk, @bumblee27, @helloliriels

[eric-r-malice]

hi. deltarune predictions/analysis/hot takes, okay? okay. deltarune predictions/analysis/hot takes! (compiling a list of my Deltarune analysis/theories/whatever. keep in mind that a lot of this is speculative- though I do think some of it is objective... mainly, Susie being The Girl, and Mike not being relevant.)

Susie is, and was always meant to be, The Girl from Deltarune's prophecy (full post)

Rudy is not as sick as people think he is, and probably won't die

This theory reeks of something I'd write when I was 15 and that is not a good thing, I was obsessed with writing pointless angst back then

I know someone IRL who's bedridden like Rudy and has been for years, and she hasn't keeled over and died or anything

What would be the narrative purpose of Rudy just- dying? And why would he have to die? Could he just not remain ill?

Rudy dying would put a serious dampener on the ending of the game, since there's no way in hell anybody is getting over his death in, like, under 3 days, especially with everything else that's going to happen

My mostly baseless prediction for what'll happen to Rudy:

He gets worse in chapter 5, due to overexerting himself at the festival

His condition remains stable for the rest of the story, but the prospect of him dying looms over Noelle & Carol's heads for the rest of the story, serving as a motivation for whatever they wind up doing

During credits/post-credits scenes, he's seen to have recovered to at least an extent where he's back home with his family, standing around the house

Mike isn't and was never going to be relevant, the fandom just fooled themselves

Like... Seriously, guys.

Toby added an entire fucking sidequest for us to do where he basically just points at the screen and says "hey, guys, Mike wasn't actually a big deal, he was just a gimmicky side-character for Chapter 3, you all freaked out over nothing lol" and yet I still see people saying Mike's gonna be important... all of you are Matpip, istg.

"Mike is Spamton's mystery helper" That would be incredibly stupid because that means Tenna, who was after Spamton's secret to becoming a [[BIG SHOT]], has literally had the guy who made Spamton a [[BIG SHOT]] working for him this whole time?? like i can't be the only one who thinks that'd be fucking stupid right.

"Well Matpip says Mike changed after Spamton left, and Spamton talks about him a lot-" What if they were just pals?! What if they were just close, and they just miss eachother?! Mike might be a gimmicky side-character from chapter 3, yeah, but he's still a person with feelings and connections! It doesn't need to be a big lore thing, they can just be buddies... Avoiding the word "friend" because I know what people are like.

"Mike is DEVICE_FRIEND" Toby literally included Cat Mike as a jab at this idea. It's not canon. Mike and FRIEND are different people. And while I'm on this topic, Cowboy Mike exists as a jab at Friend Inside Me, and Small Mike also makes a joke about Friend Inside Me. I'd consider that an official debunk of that concept, too. Not that that'll stop this fandom from deluding themselves into believing it still has a chance...

Mike's just a Guy, dudes. He's just a fun, gimmicky side-character from Chapter 3. I'm convinced that Mike would've just been Chapter 3's Nubert if not for the fandom hysteria around him, in that he'd turn up in Castle Town only if you recruited everybody, and there'd be an interaction with a Pippins or Zapper or something that goes something like...

* Hey, everyone made it here! * Even Mike! (A spotlight flashes on and off again - Mike's way of confirming his presence.)

Like- seriously, if not for how much people freaked out about Mike, I'm convinced that would've been all we got of Mike beyond Chapter 3- because he isn't important going forwards!

The Prophecy's "final tragedy" is not sealing Castle Town's Grand Fountain (full post)

The Prophecy's "final tragedy" is the death or sacrifice of Ralsei

Susie emphasizes that Ralsei in particular wouldn't let the final tragedy come to pass

Ralsei seems especially upset about whatever the final tragedy is, having a full-on breakdown over it and over Susie seeing it

The blood splatter on his face screams foreshadowing

It'd explain his entire attitude toward Darkners and the Dark Worlds if he knew he was going to die, what with him trying to get Susie and Kris to not get attached and "make some real friends"

Susie will avert the "final tragedy", and do so without sacrificing herself (+ speculation on the game's themes)

The dialogue in Gerson's fight. I think it speaks for itself, really- "white pen of hope" and all that

Look I'm struggling to put it into exact words but the prophecy is clearly being set up to be subverted, especially that final tragedy- like, it hasn't changed yet, but it's going to be

I don't think Susie sacrificing herself to avoid the "final tragedy" would have much pay-off... like, the world was gonna be saved anyway. All that'd really do is trade one tragedy for another. That doesn't really... change anything.

I believe one of the themes of the main route of Deltarune will be letting the characters of this world manage their own fates, subverting the idea that the player is the most important character in a given game, the one that saves the world- "your choices don't matter", and all that. Your choices can't save the world and defy fate, but hers can!

That isn't to say that your choices don't actually matter, though- I think the message will be twofold! Sure, your choices might not be able to defy fate and save the world, but they're still important!

After all, it's your choices that can save Tenna and Jack, or doom them to death- your choices are what makes the difference between a full and empty Castle Town- and your choices can help Mettaton realise who he truly is, too. Is that not still worth something, even if your choices aren't what ultimately saves the world?

Also, sidenote, but Susie has the most "main character energy" out of anyone in the story. This is mildly relevant, because it's usually the Main Character that breaks fate and writes the better ending & all that shit, but it's not, like... a huge point. Just thought it was worth mentioning as an aside.

I believe the Knight is December Holiday

gonna preface this one by saying that, regardless of if it's carol or dess, i think it'll still make for a good story either way, and if it ends up being carol, cool! there's evidence for both of them. but i have my reasons to believe it's dess over carol, which are as follows:

A lot of hints for Carol Knight are placed right on the main path, right after the Knight fight in chapter 3- the katana, the person on the phone, Carol DEFINITELY being an antagonist- and to me, this just feels a bit too obvious if she was the Knight?

Meanwhile, basically every implication that Dess could be the knight is a lot more obscure than this- you have to go further out of your way to find clues towards Dess Knight- which makes me think Carol's gonna be a misdirect?

That isn't to say Carol won't be important to the dark world plot - she ABSOLUTELY will be, there's no way she isn't, and I wouldn't be surprised if we saw her in a dark world at some point- I just don't think her role to play in the dark worlds is as the Roaring Knight. I think she's up to something else...

A counterpoint I hear a lot in regards to this is "oh if Carol's meant to be a misdirect then it isn't working because everyone thinks it's Dess" but I think that that argument fails to consider the intended experience of the game? It's an argument that I think comes from the position of people who're really deep in the fandom.

Like- we're not really meant to have years to speculate between chapters, Deltarune was all meant to release at once at some point, and Toby isn't really telling his story with these gaps between releases in mind- which is a good thing! He's telling his story in a way that can be digested all at once without any problem whatsoever.

(And before you bring up the times he's made nods to fandom jokes, yes, those exist, but that isn't the same as telling the game's story with the fact that fans of your game are going to be speculating on it for years between releases in mind... honestly, that doesn't sound look a good way to tell a story in general- y'know, basing it on the fact that people'll be speculating... it just sounds like a recipe for disaster.)

So with that in mind, think about a blind playthrough from that perspective- particularly one from somebody who doesn't go out of their way to dig for every little secret or spend time pondering between chapters.

They're gonna fight the Knight in chapter 3, probably lose, and then go into Chapter 4, enter the Holiday Home sequence, and get all these huge implications about Carol dropped on them, right after their first encounter with the Knight...

For a blind, full-game playthrough, Carol Knight is the obvious pick at this point in the story- Dess Knight might not even cross the mind of someone playing the game without speculation between chapters or involvement in the fandom.

And that's another reason why I think it's a misdirect- because, for a player going through the intended experience, it'd be a good, successful misdirect! It isn't completely out of left field- it's foreshadowed multiple times- but most of the Dess Knight hints are still out-of-the-way enough to be easily missable!

[hp-confessions]

This fandom really overhypes Sirius’s “I wish it was full moon” dialogue, tbh.

I see comments like “oh, he made fun of his friend’s illness” or “he didn’t understand what Remus was going through” and like … did we read the same books? Remus literally says that his friends made full moons "the best times of my life”. They did understand what Remus went through, that’s the entire reason they did what they did and the reason they were able to think of Animagi transformations as a way to keep Remus company.

I think the reason people criticize Sirius here is because of Remus’s response to his comment in the same scene.

“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.”

“You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.

Firstly, Remus’s response could have literally been a joke. Earlier, when joking with James and Sirius about werewolf questions in their exam, he replies “briskly” and “seriously” – him replying “darkly” fits that pattern and could simply be an indication of his personal sense of humour. It doesn’t need to be deep at all - not everything is an unrelenting cycle of angst.

Also, I think the fandom is forgetting that Remus sometimes felt guilty about what the Marauders were doing:

“I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course . . . he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure.”

Given that full moon was probably approaching in SWM (Remus is described as looking “pale and peaky”) it’s possible that Remus’s comment was motivated by his own guilt and hesitation, which he himself tells us would soon evaporate.

And lastly … criticizing Sirius alone for being “insensitive” to Remus is idiotic because it’s literally canon that all four of them thought of full moons as “an adventure”. All four of them viewed it as a time of “exciting possibilities”. All four literally sat down to plan what they were going to do each month. So why on earth are people acting as though Sirius was alone in looking forward to full moons, lol? James and Peter were exactly the same. Remus himself was exactly the same.

Idk, I find it pretty silly when the fandom relies on the worst possible interpretation of Sirius when it comes to this line (and the idea that Remus reacted this way to Sirius because of the Prank is even stupider – we’re told that the Marauders had many "near misses" they laughed about afterwards, why should the Prank to be anything different?). It’s also odd how Sirius is the only one who’s criticized. James tells Peter “you run round with a werewolf” in a place crowded with students who could hear them, Remus even implores him to lower his voice, yet I never see people crucifying James for this. So I’m not sure why the fandom picks on every single thing Sirius says? It's weird asf.

~