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auteurdelabre · 1 day

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SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12

rating: 18+

tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.

a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!

masterlist here

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

"Wake up."

You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.

"Time to go. Get dressed."

You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.

"Did you sleep much?"

"Yep. Plenty."

You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.

You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.

“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”

Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.

“Here.”

You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.

“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”

“Ate mine already.”

He’s lying.

He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.

“You sure?”

Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.

“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”

“Of course.”

You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.

Joel leads, you follow.

And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.

The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.

Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.

“Joel can I ask you something?”

He visibly cringes. “What?”

“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”

His shoulders relax. “Practice.”

“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”

“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”

You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.

“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”

To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses

“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”

"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."

"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.

“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”

Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.

“You don’t even know Luke.”

Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.

The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.

"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."

"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.

"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"

“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.

"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.

“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”

Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.

What will you tell her?

He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.

In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.

"Fuck."

Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.

You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You good to keep goin'?"

"Uh huh."

He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.

You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.

You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.

He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?

Do you want him to?

You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.

When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.

"It's them!"

"Open the fucking gate!"

You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.

The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the

Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.

Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.

"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"

"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."

You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.

When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.

She loves him so much.

You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.

'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."

"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.

The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.

“Thank fuck!”

You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.

"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.

Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.

You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.

Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.

You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.

"Thank you for everything, Joel."

You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.

You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.

"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"

And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.

Nothing has changed.

He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.

"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."

You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.

"Yeah," you nod. "I am."

///

Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.

You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.

“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something to me.”

Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.

“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”

“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”

You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.

“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”

Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.

“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.

“What?”

“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”

“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”

“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”

You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.

“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”

Yeah, the rest is history.

You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).

Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.

"You okay, Jen?"

She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.

“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.

You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.

She looks to be fighting an internal debate.

"I shot a kid."

She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.

“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.

You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.

"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."

Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.

"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."

You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.

Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.

"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."

Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.

"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."

You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.

"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."

At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.

"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.

"You know what he was saying?"

You don't move. Not even to shake your head.

"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."

Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.

"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."

You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.

You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.

"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.

"For what?"

"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.

"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”

"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.

"I could never look at you like that.”

She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"

You give her a weak smile in return.

"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."

Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.

"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."

You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."

She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.

You couldn't understand more.

And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.

“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”

Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.

“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”

Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.

“Tell me everything!”

You can’t tell her everything.

You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.

“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”

“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.

“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”

“See? I told you there was something to him.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”

“Did he mention me by any chance?”

You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.

“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”

Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.

Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.

You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.

The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.

It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.

///

You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.

A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.

You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.

You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.

A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.

“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.

Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.

“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.

He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.

“You wanna join me on my walk?”

Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.

You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.

You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.

You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.

You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.

You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.

Fuck.

What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.

You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.

The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.

Homemade pies.

Lavender soap.

Sunlight on a summer morning.

Joel’s eyes.

Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.

The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.

“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”

Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.

He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.

“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”

“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”

You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.

“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.

“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that.

“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.

"You said you were new to Jackson?"

"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."

“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.

“Really?”

“Sure. Follow me.”

The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.

But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.

“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”

"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"

"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."

"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"

"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"

"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"

They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.

Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.

People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.

You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.

“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”

“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”

“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”

You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”

“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.

“Can you make it back okay on your own?”

“I’m sure.”

You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.

“Do you ever draw portraits?”

“Of course,” Arthur nods.

“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”

“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”

///

You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.

“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.

“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”

“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”

Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.

You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.

"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."

"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”

“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”

This intrigues you to the point of distraction.

“You saw a picture of Sarah?”

Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.

“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”

“Joel must have been so happy.”

“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”

You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.

You just wish you could understand him.

You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.

“You still up for shooting?”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.

“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”

You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.

You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.

"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.

"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”

Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.

"Yeah I think I will."

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.

“That was amazing!”

“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.

You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.

“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”

“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.

“You’re too kind.”

Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.

“You sign those guns out?”

You and Luke spin to face the speaker.

Joel.

He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.

Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”

“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”

Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.

“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”

“Ammo too?”

“Yep.”

Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?

“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.

Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.

“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

///

Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.

There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.

He deserves it after all he went through last week.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.

"Hi, boy."

You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.

Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.

"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."

The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.

With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.

You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.

"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.

She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.

"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.

“Yeah, I can ride too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”

“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”

“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.

“Are you okay?-“

“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”

You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.

“Where? To your place?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”

You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?

Not a chance.

“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”

“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”

The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”

“A cake?”

You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.

“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”

This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.

“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”

Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.

You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.

“Chocolate cake okay?”

///

Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.

People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.

Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.

This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.

"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."

You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.

You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.

You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.

You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.

“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.

"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."

The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.

"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”

“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”

“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.

"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.

"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."

"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."

Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.

"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."

"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.

You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.

Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.

"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."

There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.

Joel.

You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.

A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.

You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.

"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."

Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.

"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.

"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."

The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.

"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.

Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.

His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.

"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"

There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.

"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."

You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.

"I didn't know he played."

"Me neither."

"Shhhh."

You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.

"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."

Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.

"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."

You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.

You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.

"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”

“Me too, I was-”

Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.

"Shhhh."

For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.

"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."

You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.

Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.

You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.

You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.

What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?

There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.

Fuck this.

You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.

"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.

"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.

“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”

“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.

Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.

"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."

It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.

But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?

Fuck him.

"With what, Joel? Your cock?”

Joel’s eyes fly open wide.

“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"

"Enough."

Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.

"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”

"Shut the fuck up."

You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.

No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.

Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.

"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"

You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.

There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.

And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.

Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.

“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”

Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.

You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.

Lust.

You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.

You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.

“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"

Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?

"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.

But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.

"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."

“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.

“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”

You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.

You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.

He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.

You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.

"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."

You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.

"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"

You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.

"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."

Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.

"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."

You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.

Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.

"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."

At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.

"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.

Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.

"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”

Just like that. Just like that.

Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.

“I know you can gimme another one.”

Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.

"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."

Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.

You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.

Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.

Your knees buckle.

He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.

"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."

You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.

Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.

The meeting is over.

Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.

“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.

He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.

You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.

What the fuck just happened?

TAGLIST

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#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #so much to lose #slow burn

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asdfghjklmals · 21 hours

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DOMAIN EXPANSION: UNLIMITED APOLOGIES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive comment. WORD COUNT: 3.0k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, enemies to almost lovers troupe. mutual pining with lots of tension. they are actually an established couple revisiting a high school flashback.

SYNOPSIS: satoru and oc gojo girlfriend tell their students about the first time they sparred and who actually won. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i miss these two and their high school phase. this fic’s flashback happened in the middle of ‘love at first fight’. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

you gazed out of your office window as the white haired, blind-folded love of your life was being tackled by two of his students. they were unable to touch him, no matter what attack they tried on their sensei. satoru’s cocky, but proud grin gave you the butterflies. you loved to watch his lessons from your office window during your spare time.

satoru was sparring with hakari and yuta as a demonstration to his current first years the limits of his own powers in close combat and explaining the pinnacle of jujutsu—domain expansions.

“he better not reinforce that punch wi—”

satoru reinforced his punch with blue, sending hakari and yuta flying across the sparring field.

“—and there it is.” you said to yourself while you giggled at the sight.

you decided to head to the sparring field as yuta and hakari might need someone who could heal them with reversed cursed energy.

*************************************

yuta and hakari were throwing up next to the wooden benches on the sparring field as satoru dusted off his hands, not even breaking a sweat.

“that was mean, gojo-sensei!” you called out, laughing at the sight of the nervous first years and a hurling yuta and hakari. “you really had to use blue with that punch?”

satoru loved when you called him sensei.

the first year teacher grinned at the sight of you, your long black hair blowing in the wind, green eyes shining at him, “what brings you here, (y/n)-sensei?”

satoru was usually the one who was trying to avoid his duties by seeking you out on campus, but it seemed that you were the one chasing him around today.

he tried to remember what he did to put you in a good mood this morning before he left for work. did he make the coffee differently? was he able to snag a good morning kiss? what made you come see him today? (read ‘morning routine’ here)

“i saw you reinforce your punch with blue and knew that i had to heal our precious students.” you feigned despair, turning to yuta and hakari who were now sitting on the bench, still shaking from their experience with satoru.

“hi (y/n)-sensei.” all the students greeted you in unison as you smiled back at them.

megumi, yuji, nobara, yuta, and hakari gave you a look of adoration. the students admired the love and respect that their sensei had for you. and how could they not love you? you were like the jujutsu high school mother, therapist, and caretaker all in one.

nobara eyed you, “(y/n)-sensei, do you think you could beat gojo-sensei in a spar?”

megumi scoffed at the question before adding in his two cents about his guardians, “she could bat her eyelashes at gojo-sensei and he would lose immediately.”

“you ain’t wrong about that.” hakari grinned in agreement, earning a laugh from you and the rest of the students.

all of the students knew that you were satoru gojo’s weakness. he could never say no to you and he would never want to spar with you in case he ever accidentally hurt you.

“hey…” satoru sulked, “you think your great teacher gojo can’t even handle little ol’ (y/n)-sensei?”

you winked at the sorcerer before sitting down next to yuta and hakari, waving your hands over their abdomens that received the punches—a stream of water coming from both hands to surround their stomachs, healing them from any injury the punch may have caused.

yuji asked curiously as he watched you heal the two students, “did you two spar when you were students?”

“we sure did.” you said with a sarcastic tone, “your sensei was so full of himself back then. somebody had to humble him and his freakishly strong powers.”

“ha!” satoru laughed out loud, “tell them the domain story, sweetheart.”

all the students cheered, “yeah! tell us the story, (y/n)-sensei!”

flashback

“you’re so full of yourself.” you commented snidely as you walked past satoru after throwing your ice shards at the targets across the sparring field.

all 12 of your ice shards hit their respective bullseye. your nectarine honey blossom fragrance tickled his nose as you walked past him.

satoru looked back at you incredulously, as if no one has ever said that to him before, “and you aren’t?”

he huffed with irritation as he followed you, only two steps behind from where you stood, your back was facing him. why was he following you? what was it about this stubborn (l/n) clan girl that was so magnetic? what made him so curious about you even though you drove him crazy?

you had only been at jujutsu high school for 2 weeks. you barely knew satoru and only had a couple of run ins with him. he was so hot and cold when it came to you and it confused the hell out of you.

after your first run in with him in the dining hall your first night at jujutsu high, you thought things would be okay between the two of you, that you could be friends—however, satoru still somewhat treated you with indifference. (read ‘love at first sight’ here)

“you know for a fact that i’m faster and better at laying out my domain.” satoru rolled his blue eyes at you, sticking out his tongue at you behind your back.

this argument started when yaga-sensei started his lesson on domain expansions—satoru claimed he was the best and that no one could top him. you being the competitive person you were, disagreed with him.

you turned back to invade his space, satoru staggered back a step, “you’ve never even seen my domain expansion.”

“oh, you mean the domain that i broke your first day at jujutsu high?” satoru sneered at you, attempting to hover over you, asserting his dominance and making you stumble back two steps.

suguru’s and shoko’s heads bobbed back and forth as you and satoru went at each other’s throats. a little friendly competitive never hurt anybody… right? and what the hell was this tension they were feeling that was radiating off of the two of you?

you glared icily at him, “and if you were smart, you’d know that domains can be broken from the outside.”

you seethed with emphasis on the word ‘outside’. “plus, if you were caught in iridescent ocean, you’d drown.”

“nah, i’d win cause i’d just lay out my own domain and crush yours.” satoru said as he leaned in closer to you. he took a lock of your soft black hair, twisting and curling it with his index finger, “then you can be a vegetable for 4 months.”

you kissed the back of your teeth in annoyance and shoved his hand away from you and your hair. who did he think he was touching you like that?

“hey! can you two stop flirting with each other?!” shoko called out with her two hands circling around her mouth, projecting her yell across the field.

you and satoru yelled back in unison, “we are not flirting!”

“why don’t you two just have a spar? you both know the rules for domain expansion spars.” suguru suggested as he sat on the grass, the heels of his hands supporting his frame.

the thing about domain expansions in spars was that you could lay out your domain, but you couldn't attack your opponent with it. this would show who could lay out their domain the fastest, and who had the most refined domain—which satoru claimed he had.

shoko looked over at her bestfriend in worry, “you know gojo’s domain expansion would put (y/n) in a coma if he couldn’t control the duration of it.”

suguru shrugged, “yeah, but (y/n) can use reversed cursed energy to heal herself so that should lessen the hit from unlimited void, plus i’m sure she knows how to do a simple domain.”

shoko thought to herself—it was true that you could heal yourself, and you were still brand new to the simple domain technique. but if satoru couldn’t control the time limit of unlimited void, you’d be a vegetable just like he said.

“i’ll try it.” you said confidently, “i’m not scared of a little satoru gojo.”

satoru scoffed at your comment as you flipped your hair behind your shoulder. he watched you walk away from him. you were so stubborn and feisty—unfortunately he liked that about you.

“fine, don’t let me say ‘i told you so!’” satoru called out to you as you glared back at him.

“let’s do this spar after class.” suguru suggested, “then you two can both shut up about who’s the best at laying out their domains.”

“fine.” satoru said with his arms folded.

“fine.” you said back.

suguru chuckled to himself as he looked away from the brooding you and satoru. he already knew his bestfriend had a thing for the new girl. he just liked to stir the pot.

“$10 bucks they’re gonna get together this semester?” shoko whispered to her bestfriend.

suguru grinned and reached out for her hand to shake on the deal.

“make it within the next month.”

later that day

“ready, (y/n)? got your big girl panties on?” satoru taunted you from the opposite end of the field.

“don’t go crying when i win.” you glared at him. you wanted to see him grovel.

satoru gave you a fake yawn, standing up straight. “ladies first.”

“what if you drown?” you sneered at him.

the white haired sorcerer winked at you, “i won’t.”

if his fake yawn didn’t make your blood boil, his damn wink sure did. it was like you weren’t even a threat to him.

“fine!” you called out, putting up your hand signal of the vitarka mudra. your thumb and index finger connecting, while the remaining fingers remained straight, “domain expansion: iridescent ocean.”

water started to fill the inside of your domain. satoru was swept in by a strong tidal wave, swallowing him whole. as your domain completed, you saw the blinding lights at the top—opponents caught swimming towards the top of your domain would be immobilized, which usually gave you a sure hit with your ice shards, and if your opponents swam towards the bottom, they’d drown or be crushed by the water pressure.

you didn’t see satoru move towards the top or the bottom of your domain. how long was he going to try to hold his breath for? why was he just staying in the same position? why hasn’t he laid out his domain?

you formed your ice shards before satoru crossed his index and middle finger, his hand sign for his domain. “domain expansion: unlimited void.”

a white light went back and forth between you and satoru, the void was trying to take over the spherical water domain of yours. you could feel a strong pressure of cursed energy trying to fight against yours. a mental battle of tug-of-war, and you could feel your cursed energy becoming unstable.

damn it, was satoru gojo going to win?

no. he can’t. you had to prove him wro—

in that moment, unlimited void took over, dissolving your domain of water and before the domain was entirely satoru’s, you reinforced yourself with your remaining cursed energy to channel it to reversed cursed energy.

you couldn’t move.

you couldn’t speak.

you could feel everything, but couldn’t do anything.

you felt the immense pressure of cursed energy release, the walls of unlimited void fell as your body collapsed to the ground.

*************************************

you groaned as your rubbed your temple. you felt a raging headache coming on.

“oh my god, (y/n)!” shoko gasped, running to your side. “you’re awake!”

you opened your eyes, the jujutsu high’s medical office light’s were blinding and not helping your headache. you looked around, you were laying in a hospital bed being monitored.

“what happened?” you asked.

“you’re in the medical room. you were knocked unconscious after the domain expansion spar with gojo.”

you felt a wave of disappointment and embarrassment, gutted that you had lost to satoru. he would probably never let you live this down.

“luckily you reinforced yourself with your reversed cursed technique or you would’ve probably been knocked out even longer.”

“what do you mean longer?” you asked, confused. hasn’t it only been a couple hours?

“(y/n)… you’ve been unconscious for three days.”

three days?

how could you have been unconscious for three days?

“satoru feels horrible.” shoko said quietly to you. “he hasn’t even slept since you’ve been in here. he didn’t mean to let unlimited void to go on for that long. he said it was only 2 seconds.”

2 seconds?

only 2 seconds in unlimited void, while reinforced with your reversed cursed technique landed you in the medical room for three days?

just how insane was satoru gojo’s domain expansion?

you looked around the room, noticing that satoru’s fitted jujutsu high jacket was sitting on an arm chair in the corner.

“he’s been here since…?” you asked the amber-eyed student.

she nodded, “you didn’t hear this from me, but he’s been helping the doctor take care of you. he’s been staying here for the past three days. he’s the one that teleported you to the medical office right after you fell to the ground.”

satoru gojo was nursing you back to health? you felt this weird sensation in your chest—just why would he even do that for you?

“he probably feels guilty.” you muttered to yourself.

“—and he didn’t mean to completely knock out the girl he likes with his domain expansion.” suguru said nonchalantly as he entered the room. he gave you a soft smile, “glad to see you awake and feeling better, (y/n).”

you smiled half heartedly at suguru before realizing what he just said.

‘the girl he likes’.

satoru liked you?

that insufferable boy liked you?

no way.

satoru appeared in the doorway of the room, gaining the attention of the three of you. shoko and suguru made eye contact with each other.

shoko interrupted the awkwardness in the air, “oh, i totally forgot—yaga-sensei said me and suguru have a mission today.”

she grabbed suguru by the arm and dragged him out of the room, leaving satoru at the door. once his bestfriends were gone, he closed the door behind him.

“hey.” he said sheepishly. “glad to see you’re awake.”

you couldn’t contain your teasing smirk towards him, “why? so you don’t have to continue nursing me anymore?”

“i felt bad.” satoru mumbled. he pulled his chair next to your hospital bed and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing small circles on the area between your thumb and index finger.

“i thought i could control the time limit for unlimited void. i am so sorry, (y/n). i didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

you blinked at the sorcerer in front of you. he was full of remorse, the guilt was clearly eating him up inside.

you put your free hand on top of his, “it’s okay, satoru. i forgive you—besides, it was nice to have ‘the strongest’ be my nurse for 3 days. this will be a story to tell my future kids.” you teased.

his blue eyes looked up at you with surprise. he didn’t think you’d forgive him after doing this to you. he couldn’t contain his relief as the soft smile you gave him was more than enough to get his heart racing again.

“it’s the least i could do. i thought you’d hate me forever after this.” he sighed. he couldn’t imagine being forever scorned by you.

“satoru, i don’t think i could ever hate you…” you said quietly.

you wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating—the ecg monitor surely reflected your beats per minute, didn’t it?

the sound of someone clearing their throat and knocking on the door interrupted the tension filled air between you and satoru. it was your doctor, ready to let you go back to the dorms.

end flashback

“and that’s how your gojo-sensei landed an unlimited void on me.” you said as all of his students’ jaws dropped at the story you just told them.

“and you still dated him after that?” nobara asked, truly curious at why you’d date an idiot like satoru gojo. especially after he landed you in the medical room for 3 days.

the rest of the boys laughed while satoru frowned, defending himself, “hey… i made it up to your (y/n)-sensei eventually.”

“him and his credit card made it up to me for the next ten years after that.” you winked at the students as satoru put his arm around your shoulder, sneaking a kiss on your temple.

you laughed, “i decided to keep him around since he’s given me unlimited apologies for that one.”

in all actuality, satoru won that spar back then when you were students, but when you really thought about it, you won because satoru gojo was yours.

EXTRA:

the dusk sun rested in the horizon as you and satoru walked hand in hand. the work day finally coming to an end. you couldn’t stop giggling to yourself.

“what’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl over there?” satoru asked curiously, squeezing your hand.

“you and your damn domain expansion…” you grinned, closing your eyes and shaking your head at the memory.

satoru hummed, “i can think of another domain i can expand.”

“satoru gojo.” you glared. his full government name coming out of your mouth made him flinch. he may or may not have went too far with that one.

“what, sweetheart?” he asked so innocently.

“that’s enough.” you whispered. “save that for later.”

“did you two forget what i’m walking right behind you guys?!” megumi groaned, “so gross.”

you and satoru glanced behind your shoulders to see your miserable adopted 15-year old’s face showing disgust in what he just heard. laughter erupted from the two of you as megumi scoffed back at his guardians.

he couldn’t wait to be home in the confines of his own room.

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poetsblvd · 2 days

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SKINCARE BABE ꪆৎ CL16

blurb . requested . fluff and comfort

“How do you not get confused at all?” Charles mumbles in awe of your skincare collection, staring at the jars and tubes of different sizes that sit prettily in organised containers on the large vanity of your bathroom.

You shrug, pulling him lightly by his knuckles towards a seat facing your bathroom mirror. “You get used to it, now sit!”

He smiles softly taking a seat on the cushioned stool next to yours, nodding as you pull out an array of different types of face masks to try with him.

“I have so many fun ones we can do! There’s this clay mask, this gel one, that’s a sheet mask, and then this one peels off.” A delicately manicured finger pulls out the containers and thin boxes from cabinets and lays them down in front of him.

He doesn’t quite know what you’re saying at all, the words mostly fly over his head and he doesn’t understand much of what you’re saying, except that maybe the world has far too many face masks to choose from, but he knows he can listen to you prattle on for hours on end about sheet masks, gel under eye patches, everything really, and never tire.

You hum in concentration, still looking through drawers for anything you may be missing to show him, completely unaware of your boyfriends’ attention being solely on you rather than your skincare.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He murmurs smiling up at you.

Your hands pause in their movements, a pretty flush creeping up your cheeks and down your neck, only endearing you more to him.

His hands come to rub at his chest unconsciously still staring at you in awe, a soft gooey feeling coating him turning his eyes into hearts and making his brain go almost numb.

‘’Tellement jolie.” He smiles, large hands carefully sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to stand in front of him, chin resting on the pretty pink silk robe that coats your body. ( so pretty )

“Mon belle amour, comment ai-je eu autant de chance?” He wonders, laughing softly when your hands bashfully come up to cover your face, french glossy nails shining in the light. ( my beautiful love, how did i get so lucky? )

“Charlie!” You whine, dragging out his name in exasperation mumbling a shy I love you, that’s incredibly well received if his ear splitting grin and giggle are anything to go by.

He tugs you onto his lap, making sure you’re comfortable, hands still woven tightly around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, he smears a soft kiss on your shoulders and nudges you to the face masks again.

“Tell me what face mask you like the most mon beau.” You pull out a small glass pot labeled ‘volcanic clay mask’ and he fights all his inner questions down when you start rattling off its benefits of how it minimises pores and helps target fine lines?

“Okay amour, will you put it on for me?” He smiles cheesily, pushing his face forward and turning you around in his hold.

“We have to push your hair back first love.” You pull out a brand new headband from the drawer next to you and present it to him, grinning at his loud bark of laughter at the lightning mcqueen skincare headband in front of of him.

“Oh my God!”

“You like it?” You question, happiness bubbling inside you.

Nodding eagerly he lets you slip it onto his head and push back his hair “Love it! Love you, so much, Je t’aime mon coeur.”

“Je t’aime aussi Cha.”

“Wow, I am going to be the coolest in the paddock, Lightning mcqueen headband? Max is going to be so jealous.”

love note , hi i hope you guys liked this!! i’m not the most pleased with this but i had the teeniest crumb of inspo to write and it’s 4:20 am (again) so please bear with me!! but i found the idea cute and i was struggling to put it into words, but it is what it is! also i have a bunch of reqs in my inbox that i promos i’ll get to, but i’m recovering from the most disgusting flu and have the most awful writers block, so we’ll go slow and steady!! anyways happy reading mwah xx

#౨ৎ my works #✧. charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x fem!oc #charles leclerc blurbs #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagines #f1 x y/n

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hanchette · 2 days

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𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ( wind breaker characters )

a/n: THAT BOOGIE BOOGIE BAM BAM MAKES ME WANNA SCREEECHHH togame my beloved <333 ty for the chibi jo @/togament!!! MWUA

consists of : fluff, comedy, gender neutral reader — windbre boys and tiktok dance

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐉𝐎, “jo-chan! do some tiktok with me!” he'll have to take a bit of convincing to do it, togame likes it when you pester him actually, only you can pass his 'patience' test.

“eh? a dance?” he sniffs, a small contemplating pout present on his face as he takes a sip of his ramune. you took note of the flavour, it's blueberry. “please??” you looked up at him with a hopeful look.

“that depends, lemme see it first.” togame leans on you, pressing his chin on your shoulder, looking at your phone as you scroll through your socials in a hurry to show him.

hey boogie woogie bam bam!

a slow smile is on his face, “sure, but you gotta teach me how.” well, trying something won't hurt him. togame puts his drink down beside him, head still on your shoulder as he examines the video.

it didn't take long before your phone beeps into the rhythm, togame besides you as he moves his body like how you showed him to, a few sways and sticking the butt out at the end of verses. for a first timer, he sure is good with it. it makes sense since togame is good with his body too—fighting, of course.

let's go buddy buddy boom boom—!

you ate your own laughter, watching him through your phone as he wiggled his hips, butt sticking out to follow the steps you showed him. although the exaggerated movements makes him more dramatic. the glint of mischief evident in his gaze even with the tint of his sunglasses. he looks like a duck with his moves every time he swings his hip out.

“you're good!” you comment, smiling at him.

“hmm, one of us has to be.” he quipped, chuckling under his breath as he sends you a smug look. although it didn't matched the dance he's doing, sticking his butt out one last time. “if you say so!”

you fell into heaps of giggles.

𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄, say less, ume is by your side and ready. he's not that unfamiliar with tiktok but he never did something that's about it.

“sure!” he's ready to go! just be patient with him and teach him how to do it.

ume is not used to dancing, his body is a tad stiff and it's obvious.

you try to be patient, showing him how to move, “this is easy-peasy, i thought it'll be hard!” he mentions, swaying his hips to the beat. but the way he swings his hip out, it looks stiff as hell.

hey boogie woogie bam bam!

“right?” you decide to grant him the mercy, swallowing your laugh, how could you when ume looks so bright and having so much fun? his lips are wide and his teeth are showing, the exact epitome of joy as he enjoys it.

“what other dance do you have?” he knocks his hip with yours, and you follow, knocking with his, one bump in particular sends you down on the floor, your panicked self reaching ume as you pull him down with you.

“woah!”

his lips are near yours but that's not what really matters, “you good?” he smiles in concern. you nod, the fall not really hurting as the two of you fall into bouts of laughter.

“we should probably start again.” ume says, nodding his head to gesture at the camera that is still rolling on. you nod, agreeing with him but your boyfriend didn't move, looking at you with his still easy smile, reaching, you looped your arms around his neck, pulling him to your level to press a kiss on his lips.

he's too irresistible, it's unfair. you can try again later, there's always time for it.

“alright.. maybe later.” he complies, mouthing words against your lips, his smile never fading.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎, you shift on your position from laying on him to poking his side to catch his attention. you really want to see him dance with you.

sugishita peeked one eye at you, an apathetic look on his face despite you disturbing his sleep. if it were any other, he would've kicked them down to the floor already. “hey kyo-chan,” though there is no interest in his gaze, sugishita perked up at the mention of his nickname which only you can call him.

you showed him the video to which he raised a brow at you, still not lifting his head up. “can we dance this together?”

he's silent for a moment.

for a few.

sugishita closed his eyes once again. “kyo?” this was what you wanted? this is what disturbed his sleep??

he groaned in response, lifting his head up. he nods, sure, anything for you. though that is left unsaid.

one thing about sugishita is that he never half ass anything, he'd be damned if he does, plus, he's your boyfriend, of course he won't half ass anything.

what a sight it is, looking at the lanky man with you, swaying and dancing to the music that blasts through your phone, his movements in sync with yours and even with the slight frown on his face, he looks so cute!

“wow! kyo-chan you look so cute here!” you rambled, waving your phone and replaying the video again.

sugishita sighed through his nose, looking at your giddiness. well, it was worth it. his lips twitched, smiling softly as he looks at you.

yeah. it was.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐀, he looks away from you, face scrunching up and a prominent blush on his face. his romance sensor going haywire. doing a dance with you..

sakura trailed off from his thoughts, remembering how the dance is. it's embarrassing and yet.. “that-!” he's hesitant, gulping down the saliva stuck in his throat.

“it's fine if you don't want to, haruka.” you don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to.

sakura didn't push any further, but you can see how his lip pursed even more. maybe he really doesn't want to, is what you thought, smiling at him in understanding.

a few days later, you entered his home, for you, it has become a second home and of course, your boyfriend didn't mind you coming in and go, so you closed the door, searching for him until you hear little tap tap tap on the wooden boards.

“hm?” you peeked through his room, seeing your boyfriend, his back on you.

he's dancing..

dancing?!

and the steps are familiar, his hips swaying from one side to another, hands swinging with each movement.

“boom boom..” you hear him muttering under his breath before he clicked his tongue when his hip didn't fall to the beat, ah, it was the tiktok you showed him before.

turns out, sweet sweet sakura is performing it, perfecting it.

“haruka?” you interrupted, a smile now on your lips.

“huh?!” caught in the act of dancing, your boyfriend turned red. you can say he was caught red-faced.

“t-this isn't what it l-looks like!!” sure it does.

#🛍️:scenarios #gender neutral #wind breaker x you #windbreaker x you #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka x reader #sakura haruka x you #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya hajime x you #jo togame x reader #togame jo x reader #kyotaro sugishita x reader #kyotaro sugishita x you

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dfwbwfbbwfbwf · 2 days

Text

Fëanáro would 100000% fight Nolofinwë and Eöl (assuming Eöl deigned come to Mandos instead of sulk in Endórë) for custody of one Maeglin Lómion.

(I am so sorry, but I had to redo the poll. I had to make some changes. Also, @eri-pl, I think you'll like this.)

Okay, since people are getting confused, OBVIOUSLY Areðel gets custody of Maeglin. This is a battle to see who gets to Dad at the lad.

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skzdust · 1 day

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can i request academic rival! felix × afab reader ?? theyre super competitive ( enemies to lovers) and felix just has to fuck it into reader that he is BETTER

I LOVE this idea! And now I kind of want to turn it into something longer lol

Thanks for the request!!

---

You're Better

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You and Felix are rivals, but you've been placed on a project together. Felix proposes a challenge to see which of you gets to lead the project.

Pairing: Academic rival!Felix x afab reader

Includes: rivalry, penetrative sex, rivals with feelings, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex (please use condoms and pee after sex!)

Word count: 1.4k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!! Thank you for reading!!

Requests are OPEN!

Masterlist

-----

The library study rooms were supposed to stay peaceful and quiet, and when you were working alone or with almost anyone else, they were.

But not with Felix.

“You’re impossible.” You scoffed. “You know, yours doesn’t make sense either.”

You knew the piece of the project he’d put together was brilliant, maybe better than yours, although you’d never admit it. But after he’d torn your piece to shreds, nitpicking every subpar word choice and questionable rhetorical decision, you had some anger towards him.

“It’s great, you know that.” He crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat, wearing a cocky grin. “Just because you’re not as good at this as I am doesn’t mean you have to be bitter.”

“I’m not being bitter. And you are not better than me at this, stop acting all superior.”

“I am better than you.” He laughed, a sound that sent butterflies though your whole body. “I’m gonna get you to admit it one day.”

“Never.” You said firmly.

It was quiet for a moment.

“I have a proposition.” Felix said abruptly.

“Oh?”

“If I can get you to admit I’m better by the time we leave this room, I get complete control over the project. And if you don’t, you get complete control over the project.”

You laughed. “Done.”

He leaned over the table to you. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

His hand found yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “I bet I can.”

Your eyes stayed on the motion of his fingers, the sensation of his skin on yours electric. “And what methods do you plan to use?”

His hand stilled. “Can I kiss you?”

You almost fell out of your chair. “Kiss me? I mean, yes, absolutely, please, but you want to kiss me?” You babbled.

“I mean… I’d be lying if I said no.”

“That is the definition of ‘yes’.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Says you.”

In lieu of a response, Felix’s fingers laced with yours, and he pushed you into a kiss.

You hadn’t kissed many people, but you knew this was different. Felix kissed you like he hated you, pushing you, his teeth scraping at your lower lip. He pulled sounds out of you that were, quite frankly, embarrassing, but you didn’t care, lost in him. Your spark of animosity was transforming into a smoldering flame, and you were dry wood, ready to burn.

Except you were wet; you were very wet.

Felix abruptly pulled away from you, and you whined in confusion. “Where are you going?”

He stood up, pulling you up by your hand, and pushed you up against the wall. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He whispered in your ear before kissing you again, his body pressing against yours, still holding your hand.

You could feel him growing hard against your leg as he kissed you. His other hand captured your other hand, pinning it to the wall by your head.

“Fuck.” He panted as he pulled away. “This is a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” You whispered back. “But don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop.” His lips met yours again, and you moaned into his mouth. His hips pushed into you, and you got a little louder, fighting the urge to ask him—beg him, if need be—to fuck you.

His hands found their way down to your waist. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm.” You whimpered. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging so pretty.” His hands moved across your lower stomach and back under your shirt.

“God, Felix. Can you go lower?”

“Lower?” His hands cautiously found your hips. You involuntarily pushed into him, and he let out a low moan. “Fuck.”

“More.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“More?” Felix’s fingers traced patterns on your thighs, and you let your legs open a bit, sliding down on the wall.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, barely audibly.

“You want me to fuck you?” Felix asked softly.

“Yeah.” You opened your eyes, looking into his. “If you’re… I don’t want to push you.”

“God, I’ve wanted to for… since I met you.” He whispered, and was that… affection in his eyes?

“Then do it.” You swallowed. “I really want you to do it.”

Your biggest rival fucking you in a library study room… it was objectively a very bad idea. But you didn’t care. You wanted him.

He looked at you intently. “Okay. I will. But let me know if you want me to stop, and I will, no questions asked.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He checked that the blinds to the room’s windows were shut and that the door was locked, and walked back over to you, still leaning against the wall.

“Okay, baby, take off your pants, and we’ll start.” His voice was low, dripping with desire.

You couldn’t get them off fast enough.

He let out a low whistle looking at you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

Another thrill went through you. “I’m ready for you, Felix.”

He smirked. “I’ll fuck you if you admit I’m better.”

“Oh, that’s cheating. My pants are already off.”

“We didn’t discuss this when we made our deal, therefore, it’s fair game.”

“Dick.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “You’re better.”

His smirk grew. “I’ll take it, for now.” He unzipped his own pants and pulled out his cock, already hard. You swallowed, eyes glued to it.

He spread your legs a little wider, lining up with your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You breathed.

He slowly pushed into you. It felt like the breath was pushed from your lungs with each motion of his hips. The stretch was slightly painful, but the pleasure was enough that you didn’t even care.

Once he was fully inside you, Felix groaned. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. So good.” He pushed you a bit tighter against the wall and picked up your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Godddddd.” You drew out the sound, feeling him move inside you as you as he adjusted your position. “Fuck me, Felix.”

“Admit I’m better, like you mean it this time.”

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes.

Felix thrust into you harshly, and your eyes rolled back as you let out a noise. “Like I said, like you mean it.”

“You’re better,” You moaned, and he began to fuck you, slowly.

“More.”

“You’re the better student, you’re smarter than me, you’re gonna fuck me dumb, Felix.”

He picked up the pace as you spoke, so you kept talking, trying to provoke him into going faster and faster.

“You’re better, you’re better, you’re fucking all the thoughts out of my head, Felix, you feel so good inside me,” You panted. “Fuck, Felix, keep going.”

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna do exactly that, I’m gonna fuck all the thoughts out of that pretty head.” He suddenly kissed you with the same harshness with which he fucked you. As he pulled away, he murmured against your lips, “I’d fuck the words outta your mouth, too, if you’ll let me.”

You moaned. “Fuck. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

“Fuck, baby.” He whispered, fucking you faster. “Maybe I should fuck you against the window, make you scream that I’m better. Make sure everyone hears, everyone knows.”

“You have some kind of god complex.”

“Yep.”

He kept fucking you and you kept mumbling his praises so he’d keep going quickly, and it didn’t take long for you to know you were approaching your climax.

“Felix, I’m gonna come.” You panted.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come, too.”

You drew closer and closer to the cliff’s edge, and as he pushed up into you in a hard thrust, you fell over, your eyelids fluttering as you came.

And then you were full, you were so full, as Felix came, too, grunting as he kept himself to the hilt inside you.

A few moments later, he lowered your legs to the floor and gently pulled out. Your knees buckled almost immediately, and he caught you, helping you to one of the chairs in the room.

“God, Felix, that was… good.” You pushed your hair out of your flushed face, looking up at him.

“You admitted it.” He smiled, zipping up his pants. “That I’m better.”

“Was that all it meant to you?” You grinned, mostly joking.

“No.” He said softly.

“Oh.” You tilted your head.

He suddenly looked away. “Y/n… do you want to go on a date?”

“A date?” Your smile softened. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He looked back at you. “But I still get to be in charge of the project.”

You sighed. “We did make a deal.”

#fic requests #stray kids #felix #felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz felix x reader #stray kids felix x reader #lee felix #felix stray kids #smut #stray kids fic #stray kids smut #skzdust #enemies to lovers #academic rivals

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niceboyeds · 2 days

Text

but daddy i love him (e.m)

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: sometimes you have to put the gossipers in their place, and sometimes you have to give them something to talk about. inspired by none other than the masterpiece that is The Tortured Poets Department!

contains: bullying, fluff, language, sexual innuendos if you squint, i think that's it but please reach out if i missed anything!

word count: 1.2K

a/n: hi babies I'm baaaack! with that said I'm rusty so please don't hurt my feelings lmao. i have an idea for a smutty pt. 2 if enough of you want it! okay here we go...

(tagging some mutuals so i don’t get lost in the blackhole: @luvmunson @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @munsonology @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @espressomunson 🫶)

masterlist

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

there was always something exciting about being with a bad boy. but then again, there was nothing “bad” about Edward Munson. he may get a bad rap but, aside from his lunchbox goodies, he is a gentleman before anything else. and a damn good lover.

you sit in the diner with your friends, snickers and snide remarks could be heard all throughout the room and dozens of eyes burn into the back of your head for what felt like the millionth time. unfortunately that’s one of the prices to pay living in a small town like Hawkins.

Eddie is better than you, though, and doesn’t let it get the best of him. and while you know you could never physically fight someone, you still aren’t shy enough to threaten it. you are, to put it gently, less “reserved” with your words, and make sure to put the lonely housewives and their preppy children in their place about their assumptions of him.

things have gotten worse as your dating life has expanded out beyond the four walls of Eddie’s quaint trailer or the few friendly drunks at the hideout once a week. you and Eddie both craved being together in public and decided long ago that you don’t care who has something to say about it.

besides, you know who the real Edward Munson is, you don’t believe what the judgmental church-goers or ex-cheerleaders think of you. the only time it gets you is when you can see it hurting him.

throughout lunch you keep one hand in his, feeling him tense up every so often when he hears his name come out of their mouths.

“i wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak!” you hear from a group of your old classmates’ table followed by an eruption of laughter.

Eddie squeezes your hand three times before letting go, scooting his chair out from the table and excusing himself to the restroom. the friends at your table all look to you for the next move, enough looks of defeat for you to end this once and for all. with a soft smile, you throw a $20 bill on the table and rise from your seat.

“sorry guys.” you sigh, motioning for them to gather their things to leave as you push in your chair and make your way to the table across the room. Dustin trots his way to the restroom to grab Eddie as you hear Robin say your name softly, urging you to leave it be but everyone knows you can’t.

“hey guys! how are you?” you beam at your old friends, doing your best to smile at them. “Stacy, Lauren, Molly…” you exaggerate her name, informing her you heard her comment loud and clear.

mumbles of good’s and small nods emit from them and their eyes bounce to one another nervously. “aw that’s so good to hear!” you beam, “i’m doing great too, in case you were curious. ya know, i couldn’t help but overhear you guys chatting over here and i just felt like i needed to come say hi.” their smiles drop immediately as you talk, and you let them sit in their fear of what you’ll say next.

“yeah, you know what they say… once a bitch always a bitch, right?” silence fills the diner and you hear Max cough to cover her giggle at the door.

“i’m sorry?” Lauren scoffs, genuinely unable to comprehend the fact that you might be putting them in their place.

“aw, you should be. because let’s face it, it’s pretty embarrassing that we graduated years ago and you still act like this.” you look at them with pure disgust, knowing they haven’t changed in the slightest. you speak with confidence, your tone still friendly, “and to think you used to truly care for me.”

“w-we do still care for you. we just want what’s best for you.” Stacy chirps as the other two nod along with her.

“what’s best for me? pretending like you’re all some fucking saints walking around and saying you’re praying for me to ‘come to my senses’ as if i have no control over my own life? who i love is my choice, so save your prayers for yourself because you’re the most judgmental creeps i’ve ever met.”

you turn to leave, your sweet group of friends still standing by the door waiting for you, Eddie having joined them just in the heat of your argument. reaching for his hand, you crack open the door and turn one last time to their table.

“and by the way? i’m having his baby!” their eyes widen with horror and their mouths fall agape as you follow Eddie through the door and giggle, skipping to be directly next to him.

“woah, woah, woah?! you’re pregnant??” Steve asks, genuinely unsure as you laugh at his question.

“no, i’m not. but oh my god did you see their faces??”

Eddie chuckles alongside you, and you feel relieved he’s made light of the situation along with you. “yeah, not yet.”

~~~~~~~~

you sit on the couch with Eddie seated directly in front of you on the shaggy carpet. one by one you twirl his messy curls into ringlets with an unfathomable amount of hair products. you feel his once tense body relax against your knees as he twiddles with the frayed pieces of your blue jeans.

“it’s true, y’know…” he says softly, barely above a whisper.

“what’s that?” you ponder, curious more-so as to why his tone has saddened during your comfortable silence.

“what they all say. that you’d be better off with someone else- someone other than me..?”

“no, i don’t think they know what the hell they’re talking about.” your hands continue to work on his hair, with only a few sections left you couldn’t allow yourself to leave it be. But you continue to reassure him.

“Eds, i don’t care that they think i shouldn’t be with you. i want to be with you. I love you. isn’t that what matters? not what all these bored-ass people think, but what we want?”

“you… you love me?” he turns his head to face you once you drop the final curl back against his head. an ear to ear grin plastered on his face and his eyebrows wiggle.

“of course i love you, silly. i love you more than i have the words to express.” you tell him truthfully, knowing in your heart that he is the man for you.

“i love you too. i love you so fucking much.”

he stands up from his crouching position, pulling you up from the couch with him. your lips instinctively crash into his.

you interlock your fingers around his neck, trying to bring him closer to you as if you weren’t already impossibly close to him. you sloppily kiss each other before you pull away from him, a small string of saliva still connecting you to him as your lips separate.

“eww!” you laugh, before pulling him by the hand and dragging him down the hallway to his bedroom. “come on, slow poke!”

“hey! i thought you said you weren’t having my baby.” he teased, bringing up the silly comment you had said earlier at the diner.

“yeah, not yet.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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dukeofdelirium · 1 day

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I saw this anti-Kataang post saying Katara is 14 going on 25 and Aang is 12 going on 8. And honestly this really pissed me off, the invalidation of Aang’s trauma and the adultification of Katara honestly grosses me out. It’s such a shameful mischaracterization and flanderization of both characters. Zutara stans like these are such fake fans, they don’t care about the show, they don’t care about Katara just their own fanfic version of Katara they can project onto.

https://www.tumblr.com/linnoya-writes/708121534055759872/kataang-but-its-only-a-2-year-age-difference?source=share

imma be real this is the weirdest shit I ever read 😭

“Aang plays with Momo while the other kids drink TEA like sophisticated ADULTS and play GAMES that require CRITICAL THOUGHT !!!! REEEEE”

Aang knows how to play pai sho…… we literally saw him playing it in book 1 episode 12: The Storm…. Fuckin moron @ OP 🤦🏻‍♂️

Also the weird commenting on what Aang would theoretically know about genitalia and sex is … odd…. And it’s also so strange to me that people think Aang would be some naive idiot who knows nothing about the world let alone about sex at his age.

The air nomads were very sexually open in ways that none of the other cultures are in ATLA. This is canon. They were a sexually free people, lol. So saying that Aang would have no concept of these things because he’s too “immature” to know about it is not aligning with what we know of his people and culture. We also know that Katara and Aang married and had a child together when they were pretty young, so… this whole argument is so strange lmao. Adding onto this, Aang traveled the world and frequently at that and we can assume he did so solo. He had way more life experience and knowledge by the age of 12 than Katara or Sokka combined, who had never even set foot outside their village. If any of these two characters is naive about sexuality and all it encompasses, it would in fact be Katara…. Who grew up in a village without men aside from her brother… lol. Aang traveled everywhere, he probably was friends with plenty of girls and I’m sure Katara wasn’t his first kiss, either given these facts.

Their argument is “Aang doesn’t know about female anatomy” which is implying he is unfit to date her on the grounds he couldn’t “please” her. However, as I already showed, this would very likely not be the case given Aang’s culture and people and everything we know of his life pre iceberg.

If anyone doesn’t know about sex and genitalia, it would be Katara. 100%. She literally grew up in an isolated village with no males aside from her brother. She would have virtually no concept of male puberty or male anatomy. Lol. So what’s the argument here? Is Katara now “unfit” for Aang because she grew up isolated from men? See how easy that was to flip their bullshit? 😭

And no, the point isn’t whether he knows or not, OP. The only reason anyone is considering this in the first place is because you argued the point. Yknow, because normal people don’t rlly think about this in regards to cartoon characters.

It’s honestly so bizarre to me how ppl act like Aang is the naive, stupid and sheltered child in the show when in reality, Aang was already self sufficient as a 12 year old. He traveled, cooked for himself and cared for himself during said travels, he knew of other cultures intimately, he knew a lot of history, he was already a master of his native element, etc…. That doesn’t sound like a naive child to me. Aang doesn’t act silly and goof off because he’s stupid. It’s both an aspect of his carefree personality and also a conscious choice and coping mechanism from trauma and grief and survivors guilt.

And anyway, Katara thinks of Aang’s carefree nature in a very positive light. She likes this about him.

I’m also never gonna understand the argument of “she grew up in war” as if Aang didn’t fight alongside her in that very war as a kid, too. Yeah, he had 12 years before that, but who gives a fuck? He also suffered far more loss than Katara or anyone for that matter, and that is objective fact.

#pro kataang #kataang #anti zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #anon

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maryleclerc · 3 days

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 (𝐈𝐈)

pairing: matt rempe x ballerina!reader ; jack hughes x ballerina!reader

summary: you can read part 1 for the context, cause if i write the summary i think i might spoil the whole fic

warning: english is not my native language, mention of cheating, being a single mom. this was written base on my imagination, please don’t take seriously.

a/n: yes i know i know i re-write this to make it better cause the 1st version of it quite not my liking so, hope this version be better

taglist: add yourself here. add to be tag in my next part!!

🎧 francesca by hozier

yourusername

liked by yourfrienduser and others

yourusername Finally I can show off my pretty, healthy baby girl. Meet my little princess Francesca Pearl Y/l/n 💗👑

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user1 aww hi Francesca, i’m Francesca too

user2 She does not said she’s a single mom but I know she is, and that’s made me love her even more

user3 @/jackhughes regret? too bad, too late already :(())

jackhughes with dbareux

liked by _quinnhughes, dbareux and others

jackhughes Daisy and I are engaged 💗

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user1 Congratz Jack and Daisy, love you both

user2 Damn didn’t know her pussy is that good :))

user3 Omgosh what is this now

user4 tbh I’m so embarrassed when I am both Jack and Daisy fan. After knowing all the things happened to Y/n and her daughter

yourusername

liked by alleyrempe, yourfrienduser and 78,669 others

yourusername First time being back after awhile

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alleyrempe ☀️☀️

user1 How do you feel about Jack getting marry soon

user2 Let me answer it for her, she don’t fucking care and stop asking those stupid ass question

user3 She’s so pretty

nhlwags_andthewag

6,201 likes

nhlwags_andthewag [TODAY WAG] After receiving news that Jack and Daisy were engaged, Y/n officially unfollowed Jack on Instagram after 5 years of following each other on Instagram. Additionally, she followed Matt Rempe, Alley Rempe (Matt's sister) and the New York Rangers this morning, Alley also comment on Y/n post. Is this related to recent rumors made by NYR fans? Leave a comment below if you think the same as me

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user1 I know this is their privacy but I gotta say they’re dating and I think they both are in a serious relationship

user2 Well I mean she’s well known in the NHL so might be friend support friend. Ya know it’s hard to be a single mom such a young age, a supporter is really a need

user3 @/nhl_deuxmoi Can you confirm this??

user4 The easiest thing to confirm is to wait until NJD and NYR are on the same ice next week, I'm a fan of NYR and I know Matt, he looooves a good fight.

mattrempe

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mattrempe Great time in Maine, celebrating Cloe and Connors wedding!!

tagged: alleyrempe

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alleyrempe Brother

user1 Ngl Y/n rumors boyfriend look good af

user2 And he tall too

y/n and matt ig story

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funnelcakeee · 2 hours

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Please Please Please

Lando Norris x femreader | Face claim Sabrina Carpenter | instagram au!

author note: yes I’m writing something to Sabrina carpenter again, sue me 🤷‍♀️ Anyway we’re gonna ignore Barry keoghan and replace it with our favourite Lando Norris. Enjoy

Yourusername posted

❤️like by lando.norris, laufey and 125,000 others

Yourusername Please Please Please music video out now💋

lando.norris I knew I had good judgement when I said yes to being on the music video!

↪️ user hold on…

user erm what…

user the way I gasped when I saw Lando

↪️Yourusername jump scare fr

user UM HELLO

user waitttt are they dating now???

user y/n in her love story era fr

user I need this song injected into my blood

Yourusername posted

❤️liked by McLaren, zbrownceo, and 18,02 others

Yourusername thank you 🧡

McLaren It was a pleasure 🧡

Like by yourusername

lando.norris I’ll win next time 🥸

↪️ Yourusername I was actually cheering for Oscar 🙄

oscarpiastri 🥳🥳🥳

Ferrari You would look better in red ❤️

↪️ McLaren back off.

user wild guess, but I bet she was there for lando 🤷‍♀️

user YESSS MCLAREN FAN🧡

Yourusername posted

❤️like by lando.norris and 21,000 others

Yourusername had a blast 💋

User Your music > everything else

lando.norris pretty

↪️ Yourusername 😙

User I literally love you

User I can’t be the only one who thinks lando and y/n are a thing

oscarpiastri someone has a new wallpaper. Hint his name starts with L and ends with ando

↪️ lando.norris fight me little man

Yourusername 🤭

User 🤩🤩🤩

lando.norris posted

❤️liked by Yourusername, McLaren and 7,000 others

lando.norris met up with a “friend” today

Tagged Yourusername

Yourusername Enemy? 😢

User wait is this a relationship launch

User “Friend” ???

User EXPLAIN

User AHHHHHHHH

Yourusername posted

❤️liked by lando.norris, yourbff and 17,000 others

Yourusername This “friend” finally took me on a date

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lando.norris Your my favourite friend 😙

liked by Yourusername

#lando norris #f1 x reader #instagram au #lando norris x reader #sabrina carpenter #please please please

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sturnthepot · 2 days

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Arguing with chris hcs!

requested? yes!!

warnings: fighting, suggestive ig??

arguing with chris, he will be petty and ignore you or make snarky comments but soon enough he’ll be back begging for you to pay attention to him when you give him the silent treatment

arguing with chris, he’ll make sure to never go too far and when he makes you cry will practically beg and your knees for you to forgive him and tell you that he so sorry

“nono baby i’m sorry don’t cry i didn’t mean it”

“please i’ll do anything don’t cry anymore”

arguing with chris, which either ends in makeup sex or angry sex, no in between

“acting like a fucking brat, i’m gonna treat you like one”

“i’m sorry princess, let me make you feel good hm?”

arguing with chris, who will go to bed angry not wanting to cuddle but about 20 minutes later wrapping a arm around your waist pulling you impossibly close snuggling his head into your hair

“what are you doing!?” you squeal from the sudden movement

“just shhhh” chris mutters and you snuggle into him

arguing with chris, which ends up to rough sex and him ripping your favorite panties

“chris!! that’s my favorite pair!” you squeak

“i’ll buy you another just shut up f’me will ya?”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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jeonsweetpea · 1 day

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Moonstruck (15) - Final Chapter

Werewolf & Vampire Hybrid!AU, Supernatural!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader | Werewolf!Taehyung x Hybrid!Reader (ft. BTS)

genre: angst, e2l, supernatural, thriller, slow burn

rating: mature

description: Heavy decisions fall on you when Taehyung throws you one last curveball. Do you say goodbye or do you stay?

word count: 10.2k

warnings: contains SPOILERS!!! Multiple POV changes, compulsion, mention of blood, mention of death, it’s very angsty, the ending is bittersweet – pls understand i poured my heart into this and it’s okay not to like it or comment about it, i tried to cover all plot holes :)

a/n: This is the final chapter of my series Moonstruck. I’ve been writing this story on and off for YEARS, so if you’ve stuck around this long, thank you! I’m aware people will be upset at the ending and that’s okay! My OC isn’t perfect and the point is she chose her own happiness for once. Please be kind, as I plan to write an epilogue in the future that can also be read as a stand-alone (with all the werewolf smut a reader could dream of lol).

Moonstruck Series Masterlist

“Let me go to Jimin. Please.”

Her voice was frail, broken, desperate. You caved into her pleas, seeing as she was in no condition to fight. Whatever happened between her, Jimin, and Jungkook must’ve been brutal. It’s amazing she was still standing, but as she limped towards her lover, her legs gave way from exhaustion.

Still, she persisted and crawled the remaining distance to hold her dying boyfriend in her arms. You walked over to them, finding the moment tender and beautiful despite the circumstances.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix everything,” she said, smiling through her tears. Jimin could barely utter her name, but she shushed him. “Save your strength.”

She pulled out an artifact from her pocket that you recalled from your studies and gasped.

“Is that…?” you started to say. She didn’t answer you and looked up towards the sky. You followed her gaze to see streaks of shooting stars across the velvet night sky.

“Tonight’s a meteor shower,” Ari said, as if she was anticipating it. “A celestial event will fix everything.”

You tore your gaze away from the sky to see blood dripping from her nose onto the circular artifact. From what you remembered, it was called an Ascendant. Combined with the blood from a Choi witch and the cosmic power of a celestial event, a portal to a prison world was possible.

“No. You’re not serious!” you exclaimed.

“It’s the only way to save him,” she said, running a hand through his hair with a fond expression. “To save us.”

“So what? You’re going to live out the rest of your days with someone who doesn’t even love you?! He’s going to die over and over. That’s not a way to live.”

Prison worlds were just that — a hell with no escape. Death was a pleasure one wasn’t able to experience there. It was a place for banishment, home for the worst of the worst.

Ari looked you dead in the eye. “He’s my first love. I intend to be his last.”

In this moment, you knew this was your best friend talking and not some demented evil version of her. She was dying because Jimin was dying and if she wanted to be tethered to a prison world the rest of her days, who were you to stop her?

Almost as if she could hear your thoughts, she added, “I’ve done too much to be forgiven for. Let me go.”

She deserved it. She deserved to rot there with him. So you weren’t going to deny her wishes, only prolong them. You bent down and swiped the Ascendant from her hand, holding it hostage.

“No.” Your voice was unwavering. She stared at you aghast, like you committed the most terrible sin.

“[Y/N]!”

“You want to abandon all the problems you exacerbated? No. I’m tired of this bullshit. If anyone gets to run away from this mess, it’s me. Now you better give me a solution…” You held the artifact high, threatening to smash it into smithereens. “Or else.”

“Stop, stop!” she begged.

“I’m waiting. The meteor shower will be over soon. Tick. Tock.”

She glanced down at Jimin, reaching her hand up to his neck to grab the amulet. With a forceful tug, she yanked it off him and handed it to you.

“Here! This will solve everything. I promise!”

You took the amulet from her, your eyes watching her every movement in case she tried to pull something. “How?”

“I sense someone trapped within it. Someone who has an energy signature similar to you… I’m not sure, but I think it’s your father.”

Your entire body froze. “How is that possible? How do I release him?”

A faint click sound captured your attention. You lowered your hand and stared at the Ascendant, watching the gears rotate into place, the cosmic energy from the meteor shower beaming straight into it. A relieved smile graced Ari’s features as she closed her eyes.

“No, wait!” You were too late. A bright flash temporarily blinded you and once you opened your eyes again, Ari and Jimin had vanished, leaving behind only a burned Ascendant.

Mora Miserium…

Ari’s words rang loud in your ears, though you had no idea what they meant.

However, the amulet was still in your hand. You dangled it in front of you, paying attention to its alluring glow. It seemed to shine brighter the closer it was to your face, like it was attracted to something. You realized your moonstone was reacting to it, so you placed them near each other, igniting a burst of energy that knocked you backwards. Groaning, you sat up to see a figure manifest before your very eyes—a ghost you never thought you’d see again as your eyes flooded with tears.

“Dad…?”

“My little miracle… come here.”

You stumbled while getting up and rushed into his warm embrace, crying your heart out.

“Where have you been all this time? I missed you so much. I lost my best friend and—and—” You hiccuped from talking so fast. He held you by the shoulders. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I was in your necklace. Trapped, actually.”

“But how?”

“Nevermind that. I’ll take Jungkook to the infirmary. You go release the professors, Hoseok, and Jiwoo. I’ll explain everything.”

You obeyed your father’s instructions, releasing everyone from their cages in the underground cellar. Everyone was quick to ask you what was going on, the noise unbearable. There were too many questions, apologies, concerns — the chaos finally stopped when your father appeared after dropping Jungkook off.

“[F/N]...” Jin and Yoongi embraced your father tight, afraid it was a dream. Once they released him, Hoseok and his sister gave an awkward introduction but were friendly nevertheless.

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi asked, giving him a punch in the arm. Your father, quick with his reflexes, caught his fist.

With a soft smile, he replied, “In [Y/N]’s moonstone,” Jin dropped his jaw so wide that it almost made you laugh. “I know, I know. It’s a lot. But let’s heal the injured first. I took Jungkook to the infirmary and patched him up. [Y/N]?”

“Yes, Dad?”

“Heal Namjoon. I know he’s treated you awfully and you don’t have to forgive him—”

“But he was compelled,” you said, finishing his statement. “So everything that’s happened… isn’t his fault. I’ll heal him.”

You bit your wrist, devoid of the pain it usually brought and lowered yourself to Namjoon’s limp body on the ground. You lifted his head gently, placing your wrist on his mouth and making sure he was ingesting it.

“He’ll be fine after some rest,” you said, standing up.

“Thank you, [Y/N],” Yoongi said, though you didn’t bother sparing him a glance. “I know I should’ve told you about releasing Hoseok but—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He nodded in understanding and you turned to your father. “Dad, what are we going to do? Jungkook and Taehyung’s lives are linked.”

“What?!” Everyone aside from you and your father was stunned. God, you needed a newsletter or something to keep them all up to date.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a dismissive hand gesture. “I’ll explain that later but for right now, I need to unlink them because if one more bad thing happens, I will turn off my humanity again. What can you tell me about Mora Muserium?”

He seemed astonished by the mention of it. “That’s an ancient artifact witches use to remove dark magic and have it contained. I was traveling the world to find it for you, hoping it’d remove the dark magic and help you regain fertility.”

You glared at him and he cleared his throat.

“I know,” he said, scratching the nape of his neck. “Father of the year right here. I should’ve told you the truth.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find it.”

“No. I had to find an alternative. There was a witch who gave me the moonstone but said its powers only activate if a werewolf sacrifices his soul.”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok said, placing a hand on his heart. “You were willing to stay inside the stone for the rest of your life if it meant [Y/N] could have children?”

He nodded while giving you a fond smile. “Anything for my little girl. She deserves a life with her needs fulfilled.” Your dad suddenly snapped his head in Hoseok’s direction. “But then you killed her.”

Hoseok held his hands up in surrender while Jiwoo stood in front of him, her protective nature taking over. “Hey. He was manipulated into doing so to save me.”

“Still. The moonstone is useless now for fertility,” your father huffed.

“Can we please get back to the Mora Muserium?” you said, wanting to pull your hair out from frustration. “We don’t have much time. Taehyung died with my blood in his system and will need to drink it again to complete his transformation. If not, he’ll die and take Jungkook with him!”

“How did their lives become linked?” Jin questioned.

“The night of the banquet we drank some alcohol that Ari gave us.”

“It must have been dark magic. If we can get the Mora Muserium, we can use it to absorb the dark magic out of Jungkook and sever the connection.”

“Great. But where can we find it? What does it look like?”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Yoongi chimed in. “It looks like a sand clock of sorts. Like an hourglass.”

“Yes. But the one I was looking for was sold to a private collector,” your father informed.

“I’ve seen it…” The groggy voice came from the floor. Jin rushed to Namjoon’s side, helping him sit up. Aside from the dried blood from his nose, his wounds had lightened and were in the process of healing. “Jimin’s parents. They own an armory full of artifacts. I saw one that looked like an hourglass the day I helped him get the White Oak stake.”

“I’ll go. Tell me the address,” your father stated. “I’m taking Jungkook with me.”

“What? He’s knocked out and needs time to recover.” Your protest fell on deaf ears.

“It’s the least he can do for you. Besides, it gives me time to get to know him. A little heart-to-heart.” He patted your head. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for him to wake up. You go take care of that bite wound and rest. All of us should rest.”

Jungkook’s Point of View - 12 Hours Later

I woke up in the infirmary sore as hell. Sitting up only exacerbated things, the pain surging through me like fire. My torso was wrapped in bandages and my arm was in a sling. The battle with the bitch witch would’ve gone sideways if Jimin didn't intervene. I barely made it out with my life.

“You’re awake, boy.”

The voice was gruff, unfamiliar. I saw a silhouette from behind the privacy curtain, but I didn’t feel threatened. I could tell he was a werewolf from his scent.

“Who are you?”

He pulled back the curtain, revealing his face to me. He was far older than me, with streaks of gray in his hair. His stern expression intimidated the shit out of me, but after giving me a once over, his eyes softened and his forehead creased with wrinkles of concern.

“I’m [F/N]. [Y/N]’s dad.”

“Oh,” Shit. This was not how I envisioned meeting him. “She has your eyes.”

A soft chuckle came out of him. “I get that a lot.” He pulled up a chair to sit by my side, the smell of cedarwood filling my nose. “Look, I know a lot has happened around here. I’ve been trapped in that damn moonstone for months.”

I looked at him in horror. “You mean the necklace [Y/N] has? That means you’ve seen…”

I trailed off, but he seemed to understand what I was getting at. He waved his hand in a dismissive manner, his face twisted in disgust. “Yes, yes, there’s a lot I did not wish to see but anyway… not the point. Honestly, part of me wants to strangle you for hurting her.”

I knew my time had to come sometime. Better him than someone else. I closed my eyes and braced myself.

“But…” He continued, “You and my daughter have been through hell and back. You protected her. Thank you.”

I opened my eyes, trying not to exhale in relief too loudly. “I always will.”

“Do you love her?”

“I do.” My response was so fast; it sounded automated. I noticed [F/N]’s eyes narrowing at me, like he was searching for doubt.

“Why?”

If I took too long coming up with an answer, that would only make me look ingenuine. I spoke from my heart, keeping my voice steady even though he looked like he could tear me in half at any moment’s notice.

“For the first time in a while, I feel like I can think clearly. The sire bond was like a crutch that made it impossible for me to distinguish my own feelings from [Y/N]’s,” I said, watching for his reaction. He nodded for me to continue. “Now that it’s severed, I feared I would stop loving her. That it was all an illusion. But that’s not the case. I know I love her. So much that it scares me…”

“Even if she’s infertile?”

“I already knew about that. It does not affect how I feel.”

“What about Jimin?”

I’d be damned if I saw that wretched vampire ever again. He manipulated everyone, especially me. Like an idiot. “What about him?”

“You chose to believe his words over my daughter’s. I want to know why.”

He might as well have broken my other arm. I fought the urge to throw up. What did he want me to say? That I was an idiot, that I was manipulated, that I was doubting her because I was a coward? “I don’t know.”

“Answer me.” He was telling, not asking. But I was stubborn.

“I said I don’t know.” I did know, of course. However, I didn’t want to shoot myself in the foot. Anything I said would sound like a pathetic excuse.

“Gonna take it to the grave? You don’t have much time left.”

He laughed at my stunned face, as if mocking me. “What do you mean?”

“Your life is linked to that other wolf’s. [Y/N] mentioned something about the night of the banquet where you drank liquor.”

Taehyung. Fuck, fuck, fuck! No wonder that bastard was so elated when I returned. That must have been why I blacked out after clawing him. Though my body was already on the verge of collapsing from the constant battling.

“Anyway, I’ll get straight to the point,” [F/N]’s said as he stood up. “Taehyung died with my daughter’s blood in his system thanks to you. That means he’s in the middle of transitioning to becoming a hybrid.”

“But it’s incomplete…” I whispered. He nodded, crossing one arm over the other.

“He needs to drink her blood one more time after coming back to life to become a hybrid. If not, he will die. Which in turn means you will die.”

“I gotta see [Y/N].” I practically ripped the covers off me with my good arm, swinging my legs off the cot. However, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You’re in no condition to leave.”

“She’s going to do whatever it takes to save me, including saving that son of a bitch. He’ll be sired by her, which is what he wants!”

“Yes, but would you rather be dead than see him sired by her? Think straight for a second. We have a mission.”

“What mission?”

“We’re going to go artifact hunting and I need that compulsion ability of yours to succeed. Then I’ll consider letting you see my daughter.”

Of course there was something else. There always was.

Your Point Of View - 12 Hours Later

You slept like a log. Your body was worn down, weathered by the stress and trauma the universe kept sending your way. The only reason you woke up was because your sharp ears picked up the sound of digging. At first, you tried to ignore it. But it was consistent and your curiosity got the best of you.

“Put your back into it,” Yoongi said, sitting on the snow criss-crossed. Jin huffed and set the shovel aside.

“This would go a lot faster if you helped!” He turned around to see you appear out of nowhere. “Ah fuck! Oh my god, [Y/N]! You scared me.”

“Sorry. You woke me from my sleep.” You stared down at the wide chasm he dug, the body inside instantly recognizable. “Is that…?”

“Yes. It’s Sunghyun,” Yoongi said. “We wanted to give him a proper burial.”

“I’ll help,” you offered. Jin and Yoongi gave each other a look but said nothing. Jin handed you the other shovel, giving you a gentle smile.

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Hoseok and his sister?” you asked.

“Still sleeping,” Yoongi answered.

“And my dad?”

“He went to find the Mora Miserium with Jungkook.”

“Namjoon? Taehyung?”

“Infirmary. Taehyung’s chained up in the caves. Jungkook really fucked him up; he’s still knocked out,” Jin said, releasing a grunt as he dug.

There wasn’t any more conversation after that. Once Sunghyun’s grave was filled, Yoongi used a piece of wood as a makeshift headstone until he could get a proper one. He had etched Sunghyun’s name into it with a pocket knife and you all said your prayers.

“He saved my life,” you said, taking out the amulet from your pocket. “Especially with this. I wanted this buried with him but the risks…”

“He’d understand,” Jin said, reassuring you. “He wouldn’t want the wrong person to get their hands on it. We can frame it or you can keep it.”

You stared at the amulet in your hands, contemplating what to do with it. Then your eyes lit up as you took your moonstone necklace off. Last time the two pendants touched, there was an explosion. But what if this time…

“Can you fuse the two necklaces together? I think they’re connected.”

Jin cracked his knuckles. “Easy peasy.”

He chanted some words in Latin, moving his hands in the air around the two pendants as you held them. Then with one final snap, the stones fused together to create a double moon necklace. Jin grinned at his work and then proceeded to help you put the necklace back on.

“It suits you,” Yoongi remarked. The three of you headed back towards campus, the snow crunching beneath your feet. “I’m sorry.”

You stared at the professor, shaking your head. “Please don’t.”

He stopped walking, so Jin followed his example. You sighed, halting your footsteps as well.

“I’m sorry too,” Jin said.

“I don’t want to hear apologies. I just want this to end. Okay?” You interrupted them before they had a chance to say more. “I know. You released Hoseok because you love him. And you recorded my sessions because I don’t know, documentation? It’s fine.”

The two men couldn’t bear to look at you, so they opted for looking at the ground instead.

“How do you intend for this to end?” Yoongi said, his voice soft, as if you could be set off at a moment’s notice. “Do you… have a plan?”

You dropped your shoulders, not realizing how tense they were. “I don’t know. Dad gets the artifact, we sever the link, Jungkook gets to live.”

“And Taehyung?” Jin said, trying not to sound nervous. “What about him? Will you give him your blood or…”

He trailed off, but you filled in the blanks pretty easily. “Let him die? That’s what you want to know. You’re my professors… Why should the decision fall on me? Haven’t I been through enough?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in frustration.

“I can’t do this right now,” you said. Yoongi and Jin let you walk away, not having the heart to stop you.

Namjoon’s Point of View

Vampire blood was one thing, but hybrid blood? It accelerated my healing three times as fast. I was pretty much back to normal after a good long rest. Hoseok and his sister woke up fifteen minutes ago, keeping me company in the infirmary. We played a game of cards while catching up.

And boy, did I have a shit ton to catch up on. Truth be told, my memory was fuzzy ever since the night Jimin and I went out in search of [Y/N]. I remember him being so eager to help; I thought it was sweet. But I lowered my guard too easily and paid the price. He whacked me in the head with something hard and next thing I knew, I was tied up.

Hoseok was able to piece things together from there and I quickly changed the subject, asking about him and his sister. It was admirable how everything he’s done was for her. For [Y/N] too. He was simply trying to protect everyone, and though his execution was poor, he had good intentions.

“So… Yoongi, huh?” I asked. Hoseok dropped the cards on my cot, retracting himself into a shy ball. His sister giggled when his cheeks reddened.

“He’s all my brother talks about,” She lowered her voice to a funny octave, mimicking Hoseok as best as she could. “I miss Yoongi. I wanna be with Yoongi. I’m Yoongi’s vitamin.”

I let out a hearty laugh, feeling a weight off my chest for the first time in a while. Hoseok whined at Jiwoo’s teasing, and she patted his head while smiling.

“Do you think [Y/N] will ever forgive me?” I asked. Hoseok stared at me like I had insulted him.

“Forgive you? Dude, I killed her and caused her to never be able to have children again. She’ll forgive you.”

“She’ll forgive you too,” Jiwoo assured. “You were being coerced. You didn’t want to kill her.”

Two knocks came from the door. We all glanced up to see [Y/N] step in, her head hung low.

“Am I interrupting?”

I could barely hear her, but Hoseok answered with a quick, “No, you’re not interrupting. Do you need us?”

“I… I want to talk to Namjoon.”

I was gobsmacked to the point where Hoseok and Jiwoo gave me a look, as if they were telepathically asking me if it was okay.

“Yeah, yeah, come over. Would you two mind giving us some privacy?” Jiwoo was quick to leave, but Hoseok gave me a gentle squeeze on my shoulder first. Once the siblings closed the door behind them, [Y/N] stood in front of me without moving. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her eyes pointed to the ground.

“Sit down,” I said, trying to sound like a gentle giant and not an authoritative douche. She finally made eye contact with me and then in the blink of an eye, her arms were around me. My body stilled. “[Y/N]?”

“I… I want my friend back,” she said, voice slightly shaky. My muscles relaxed and I hugged her back tightly, wanting her to know I was there for her.

“I’m here, I promise,” Poor girl was trembling. “You can cry. Let it all out.”

She did. First it was small sniffles, which gradually became much louder sobbing. I held her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back. I wanted to tell her so much, apologize for everything, but only after she was ready to hear it. I didn’t care how long she needed to cry; I just wanted to be there for her.

“I think I’m ready to talk now… I have a lot to ask. A lot to say.”

She was sitting at the foot of my bed now. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“You’re you?” I couldn’t blame her for being cautious. I taught her as much. “You have to be you… Jimin is no longer a part of this world, so the compulsion must’ve worn off.”

“Did you…” I trailed off, but she shook her head.

“Ari took him to the prison world with her.”

“Whoa…” I didn’t know what to say other than I shouldn’t be surprised. Those two deserve each other for eternity.

“You really thought I’d kill him?” Her words were sharp, laced with offense.

I sat up straight. “No, I just didn’t know what happened to him. Once he was gone, it was like my mind felt clear. Like I had control again. I know you wouldn’t kill him unless it was out of self-defense. Actually, even if it wasn’t out of self-defense, I wouldn’t have blamed you. No one would have.”

She bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers when lost in deep thought. “The only person I’ve ever killed was my childhood abuser. It still haunts me. That weight of taking someone’s life is soul-crushing, Joon. Even if he deserved it.”

Her shoulders drooped as she said the next part. “What do I do about Taehyung?”

Ah. That was a very good question indeed. He’s done unforgivable things, his intentions stemming from obsession. Obsession over her. His past record with his last love interest wasn’t any better either. That wolf was dangerous.

“What do you want to do about him?”

She scoffed, as if she knew I would say that. “I don’t know. That’s why I came to you. You’ve killed countless supernatural beings, humans too. Why do I have to decide?”

Valid point. I was a hunter first, headmaster second. But she was only a student, my apprentice, still a kid in my eyes. Always a fighter, never a killer. “Once the link between him and Jungkook is severed, you don’t have to give him your blood. He’ll die of natural consequences. It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“But he’d suffer.”

“Isn’t that what he deserves?”

“You thought Jimin deserved a second chance. Are some people not redeemable?”

“It sounds like you want him to be.”

She covered her face with both hands. “No. I just—he’s a student. And it’s because of his love for me that this got so out of hand. It’s my fault…”

“Stop. None of this is your fault,” She dropped her hands, a sad pout on her lips. “I’ll do it. I’ll put Taehyung out of his misery, so you don’t have to. It’ll be on me.”

“You’re the headmaster. You took him in. You think… he deserves to die?”

“I think he deserves what you think is fitting. Because he’s the one who wronged you. But I’m more than willing to make the hard choice for you if you choose to do nothing.” She hopped off the cot, pacing back and forth in the room. I removed the covers off me and swung my legs off the edge of the bed. “Hey… you don’t have to save everyone.”

That got her to stop. “But I do… my blood is cursed to do so.”

“Listen, I’ve tried to save everyone. Every student. I see so much potential, it’s overwhelming. But some people can't be saved no matter what you do and that’s okay.”

I stood up, but my legs stumbled clumsily. [Y/N] caught me and swung my arm over her shoulder.

“See? I’m a natural at saving others.”

It was good to hear her make a joke, even a small one. I smiled. “Ultimately it’s up to you. I’ll support whatever you do.”

Your Point of View

You set Namjoon back on the cot, joining him as you two dangled your legs off the edge. Well, yours dangled while his feet stayed planted on the ground.

“There’s only one thing I know for sure…” you said. Namjoon placed his hands in his lap, awaiting your answer. “When this is all over, I have to do what’s best for me. And that means—”

“You have to leave.”

It felt like deja vu of your previous conversation where he said he was letting you go. Except this time, you were choosing it yourself.

“Yeah… you actually gave me the idea first. I realized you were right.”

His tone shifted to a more grave one. “I’ll be honest. I probably said many things to you while I was under Jimin’s influence. I don’t remember much after he knocked me out while we went out searching for you. Bastard tied me up and waited until the vervain was out of my system to compel me. Stole my ring too.”

“But…?”

“But…” He sighed. “I made a promise to you and your parents that I’d always look out for you except it’s not healthy for you to be here anymore.” He placed his hand on your own, squeezing it gently. “You were always the right person, but this is the wrong place. I have to let you go because you deserve peace.”

“Namjoon…” You already cried your heart out once, so you refrained from tearing up again. His gaze on you was affectionate, protective, but also solemn.

“I’ll get all the stuff ready for you to graduate early. Anything you need, I’ll do it. Just know you are always welcome here.”

Shit. It looked like he was about to cry. You’ve never seen him like this, so you did the only thing that might bring him some comfort.

“I love you, Namjoon. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.”

He let out a small wheeze from trying to reply to you while keeping his emotions in check. “I love you too. And I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know. But I have a way you can make it up to me.”

Taehyung’s Point of View

I woke up to find myself chained. Not only were my wrists and ankles bound, but there was a collar around my neck too. The chains clinked when I charged forward, but I didn’t get very far since they were attached to the wall. A hole in the ceiling allowed some sunlight in, but it did little to stop the cold winter air. At least someone put me in sweatpants before confining me here.

I wracked my brain to remember my last memory. Ah. Right. I was clawed to death, which was extremely gruesome and sucked ass. However, it would be worth it. She was worth it.

Were my methods unorthodox? Yes. A bit insane? Absolutely. But when you’re in love, you do stupid things. We should have never broken up, but I was overly jealous and she was a stunner. She could have any guy, so I had to do whatever it took to make her choose me.

I wanted her to keep choosing me. Hell, she could use me for all I cared. For sex, for comfort, I would always be down. At first I gave her space, but that was my biggest mistake. A new wolf enrolled into our campus and became my roommate. Little did I know he would soon become my biggest threat.

The human hunters I paid did a splendid job attacking Jungkook. However, it seemed Mother Nature wanted me to work harder because that damn sire bond saved his life. While he was being an ungrateful sired jackass, I was longing to switch places with him. It was my ultimate goal, my desire, to be sired to [Y/N].

So when I caught Park Jimin masturbating to Jungkook’s pictures, the alliance was formed. He’d get Jungkook, I’d get [Y/N]. Little did I know, that vampire bastard was going to double-cross me. A lot of things went south, but it didn’t matter. The end result was what was most important.

I had finally got a taste of her blood. Sweet, delicious, rich liquid crimson. I closed my eyes, licking my lips at the memory. My plan was finally coming to fruition.

And the best part? It was fail-proof. Dying with her blood in my system was step one. Step two was drinking it once more after resurrecting to complete the transition into becoming a hybrid. If she didn’t give it to me, I’d have to force her hand.

Honest to god, I didn’t plan for my life to be linked to Jungkook’s. That night at the banquet, I originally wanted to be linked to [Y/N] as a means to be closer to her. Who knew things would work out in my favor?

If she didn’t give me her blood, I’d die and that means Jungkook would die. This was great. Victory was within my reach; I could smell it.

Well, actually I smelled something else. A saccharine scent I knew all too well. Opening my eyes, I saw a figure approaching in the distance past the iron gate bars.

“[Y/N]...”

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. The large gauze on her neck was a beautiful sight to see. I hoped she remembered my bite for the rest of her life. The memory of pinning her down, the way she wiggled beneath me trying to escape — it made me hard. If I wasn’t chained, I’d claim her as my own and abduct her for my own twisted needs.

When she opened the gate, I writhed against the chains like a feral beast. She hesitated at first but then entered, leaving enough space between us so she’d still be out of reach.

“You’re such a fucking tease, I’m tired of being the nice guy. Get over here and release me,” I snarled. She didn't respond, so I kept going. “What? Are you mad I drank your blood? That I’ll be sired to you?”

I knew I had won at this point. I couldn’t help but be smug, wearing a proud smile at my soon-to-be victory. She simply shook her head at me.

“I’m not mad. I pity you. Things didn’t have to be like this, Tae.”

“I agree. You should’ve chosen me. I wish…” My voice was losing its venom. I almost winced in pain as I said the next part. “I wish you could love me again.”

Her eyes softened a bit, like I chipped away a piece of the strong front she always put on. “Maybe in another life, we could’ve been happy together. But you had to go and orchestrate a murder. Work with hunters, a psychotic vampire, and a corrupted witch.” She ran a hand over her face, sighing loudly. “You’re in the middle of transitioning into a hybrid.”

“I know, I’m over the moon,” I said, enlarging my eyes to show her my excitement. I probably looked insane. “Even if you didn’t choose me, I chose you. And I’ll be yours even if you’re not truly mine. I still won.”

“That’s what you think. You need to drink my blood once more or you’ll die.”

“I know,” I said quickly, anticipating that tidbit. “You’ll give it to me soon enough.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because…” This was it. This was my moment! “I linked my life with Jungkook's. So if you don’t give me your blood, he’ll die.”

I let out a hearty laugh, but it quickly faded upon seeing her stoic expression. Why was she so calm?

“Okay, I’m confused,” I said. “You’re supposed to be devastated.”

She took another step forward and I almost tried to kiss her, desperate for her to be closer.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” she said. “So I’ll just tell you. I already knew about your life being linked to Jungkook’s.”

I’m sure confusion was etched into my features. What the hell was she talking about?

“Ari told me. Before she and Jimin were sent to a prison world.” Okay, not even I could predict that. Was I next? I wrestled against my restraints at the fear of being banished. I didn’t want to be away from her. “Calm down. I’m not sending you to one; it’s impossible without Ari’s blood anyway.”

I relaxed and stopped moving, so she continued, “It’s true that I would’ve cried at the thought of losing Jungkook and letting you win. But Ari left me with one last gift before she left.”

That bitch was lucky she went to a prison world because I had half a mind to burn her at the stake.

“And what was that?”

“She found my father. You see, he was trapped in my moonstone necklace after making a deal with a witch. In exchange for his freedom, the moonstone would be imbued with magic strong enough to grant me fertility. Of course, it would only work if I hadn’t died.”

She lowered her face closer to my level.

“I managed to release my father from the stone and ask him about some strange words Ari told me. Have you heard of the Mora Muserium?”

I shook my head. “You know I don’t know what that is.”

“Well, the Mora Muserium is an hourglass that can remove dark magic from people and store it. The spell Ari used to link your lives used dark magic.”

I processed what she was saying, my mind racing a mile a minute. She wasn’t possibly insinuating…

“The dark magic tethering him to you has been removed, Tae. He and you are no longer linked,” she revealed.

My face stiffened, the smile on my face I once had disappearing altogether. This couldn’t be true. My plan was fail-proof! “No! You’re lying! You’re fucking lying! He and I are connected forever! If you kill me, he dies! Do you really want to risk that?!”

“Tae…” she said, her tone full of pity. It angered me more. “It’s true. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not!” I was shouting at the top of my lungs. “You are sadly mistaken if you think I’m going to fall for your scare tactics! I don’t believe it one bit! Prove it!”

“After they removed the dark magic from the linking spell, my dad snapped his neck. Jungkook’s out cold while you’re… not.”

I dropped my jaw as I fell to my knees. “No…”

She got down on one knee, matching my level once more. “Jungkook will come back to life soon. But you won’t be here to see it.”

“So what? You’re going to kill me?” I spat.

“No. First your eyes will bleed. Then your body will be consumed in the most unimaginable pain you’ve ever felt. Like pure acid running through your veins, eating you alive inside out. It’ll be as painful to watch as it is to experience and lasts a long time before death finally consumes you.”

“You’re kidding me…”

“I’m not. I can’t bear to watch you suffer for that long so… someone else will put you out of your misery.”

She stood up and turned towards the gate. I narrowed my eyes to see a male figure approaching. He had a shotgun in his hand and a tool belt around his waist. The stench of vervain and wolfsbane from it was gag-inducing, and it made me sweat nervously too.

“Namjoon…” I muttered. He looked at me like I was trash. When I tried to reach [Y/N]’s hand, she had already stood up and walked over to the headmaster.

“Are you sure about this?” Namjoon asked. [Y/N] bit her lip but nodded slowly. My heart sank to the ground. “Leave it to me. Go. You don’t want to see this.”

She marched forward towards the exit, determined not to look back. Namjoon stood in front of me, pointing the shotgun straight at my chest. I looked him dead in the eye, slowly rising to my feet.

“Sorry it had to end this way. But you did this to yourself, Taehyung.”

“Some headmaster you are. Killing your own student.”

“[Y/N] was the one who asked me to do this.”

“No! Stop lying! She would never!”

I tried to run towards the gate, her back still in view as she walked away rather slowly. I knew deep down, she didn’t want this.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], please! You’re going to just walk away? Even though you know you can save me?! Are you that heartless?!”

*BOOM!*

Fuck! My shoulder was stinging with pain from the poisoned bullet. I groaned in agony but remained standing, reaching out for her.

“[Y/N], please! I don’t want to die! All I ever wanted was—”

*BOOM!*

My left leg was fucked. I fell down to the cold ground, desperation being the only thing helping me stay conscious. She had covered her ears this time, but I knew my voice would reach her.

“[Y/N], I love you…” I breathed. “Even in my twisted, messed up, obsessive way. I love you and I just wanted you to choose me for once. For once…”

I heard Namjoon’s footsteps and him cocking the gun in preparation for the next shot. I tried to crawl away.

*BOOM!*

Now both my legs were done for. I cried. Wailed. Screamed as I laid on my back. I didn’t want to die, not unless it was for her. Not because of her.

“[Y/N], I’m sorry! Please… please don’t let me die. You’re better than that… you’re better than me… you’re different!”

The cock of Namjoon’s gun let me know my time was up. I closed my eyes and waited. I guess I finally lost.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

Your Point of View

The words left your mouth without you realizing. Namjoon froze and Taehyung opened his eyes, seeing you run towards him. In a matter of seconds, you placed yourself in between him and the professor with your arms spread in a protective stance.

“Don’t kill him,” you begged.

“[Y/N], are you sure?” Namjoon asked. You looked over your shoulder to see Taehyung try to sit up.

“Stay down!” you shouted at him. Taehyung obeyed and laid as still as a wooden plank. “Don’t fucking move or try anything. I already regret this.”

You bit your wrist and bent down to the ground, forcing it into Taehyung’s mouth. His eyes widened in alarm, but he drank your blood nevertheless. Once he had his fill, you felt his emotions skyrocket — particularly joy.

“Stay still and stay seated until I tell you to move,” you commanded.

He sat in a criss-cross position, his smile beaming with pure bliss. “You love me. I can tell. I can feel it.”

“Shut up!”

You stood up and Namjoon slung his gun over his shoulder. “You want him alive?”

“I… I don’t know.” You were shaking and pretty soon close to hyperventilation until Namjoon centered you, reminding you that you were in a safe space.

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you,” He put his hands on your shoulders. “Talk to me.”

“I… I thought I was doing the right thing. He’s fucking insane, but at the same time… I thought about my childhood abuser. How I shoved him off, how he fell, how he was begging for me to call for help — but nothing was done. I let him die. He deserved it, but that was such an easy way out. He should’ve been rotting in jail or at least atoning for his sins. I didn’t want to do the same thing to Tae.”

“Breathe… breathe…”

You took a deep inhale and then let out a slow exhale. “This time I know about my blood and its healing properties. I couldn’t let him die… I thought I could, but it felt wrong. God, what’s wrong with me?”

Namjoon placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. No more talking down to yourself. You want to save him, then save him. It’s your blood. Now… you mentioned atoning for sins. Do you have something in mind for him?”

You turned your head to the side, seeing him stare at you with such an intensity that it made you self-conscious.

“Yeah… what are you going to do with me, oh great sire?” He was taunting you, but you didn’t let it deter you.

“I’m going to compel you to forget me.”

“What?! No. I refuse. Don’t do that, please. My love for you is the only thing that keeps me going. I can’t—”

“Taehyung? Stop talking.”

He had to oblige. Namjoon let go of you, crossing his arms over another.

“You’re absolutely sure this is what you want to do?”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes. Because maybe if he didn’t love me, didn’t know me, then he’d be different. He’d be able to focus on himself, finding himself.”

You then tilted your body at a 90 degree angle, startling the man in front of you.

“What are you doing? Why are you bowing?”

“I need your help. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, waving his arms around and forcing you to stand up straight. “Anything for you. You don’t have to beg.”

“After I compel Taehyung, I need you to help him start a new life. He’s going to be a newborn hybrid. Please take care of him in my stead.”

“I will, I promise. Look… I’ll wait outside the cave while you say your goodbyes.”

You gave him your thanks and he left, the last sound being the creaky iron gate closing behind him. Then you walked over to Taehyung, who was crying softly.

“Taehyung… stand up. Let me look at you.” He got to his feet right away and you shoved your fingers in his bullet wounds, extracting each bullet out with skill and precision. Taehyung couldn’t even scream until you told him it was okay, so he stood still and endured. Once you were done, you held his face with both hands, wiping his tears away with your thumb. “What do you want to say? Tell me.”

“That I love you s-so much.” He closed his eyes, embracing the warmth of your hands. “Don’t make me forget you.”

“I have to.”

“But you love me too. I know it, don’t lie to me.”

“The sire bond is complicated. It heightens every emotion. You’re confused.”

His eyes fluttered open, a fire burning in his gaze. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. You align my soul, [Y/N]. I’m incomplete without you. Please…”

You stood on your tiptoes to press a tender kiss on his forehead. He shuddered beneath you, wishing this moment could last forever.

“I need you to live your life and find yourself. As much as you say you want to be sired, I’d be withholding your freedom and that isn’t love. It’s abuse.”

“I don’t care. I don’t mind it. Not if it’s you.”

“Shh…” You put a finger to his lips, staring deep into his eyes.

“No. I don’t want to say goodbye. Please.”

Your pupils dilated as your compulsion ability kicked into gear.

“You will forget about me and your love for me completely. You’re going to live your life and do better, work on yourself, love yourself, understand that this is a second chance at life. Don’t waste it. After I uncuff you, you’re going to walk out of the caves and listen to Namjoon, who will help you learn how to be a hybrid.”

You worked quickly and removed his restraints. He walked out of the cave like a zombie, and you almost wanted to pass out from the stress. It shouldn’t have been that painful, but it was like you ripped off the biggest band aid. Taehyung had burrowed himself into your heart and despite your best efforts to extract all remains of him, he’d left a permanent scar.

The sire bond with Taehyung, although short-lived, had set your emotions in flux. The intensity of his love for you was very real, the ache in his heart when he was begging you to not erase his memories cut you deep like glass. After you compelled him, it felt like someone sawed your heart in half.

Letting someone go was never going to get easier, but you had one more person to talk to. Another bandaid. Another heartbreak.

Jungkook’s Point of View

I wished [Y/N]’s father had given me a warning. After placing my hand on the hourglass thingy, black smoke (which I assumed was the dark magic) formed inside. Professor Min had to ask, “How do we know if it worked?” before her dad snapped my neck so fast, almost as if he had waited his entire life to do so.

Even though I was going to come back to life, it didn’t make it hurt any less. All I could see was darkness. No sound, no sight, just unbearable loneliness. But then I saw a light in the distance and ran towards it.

The first thing I saw once I opened my eyes was her. She was caressing my head, running her hand through my hair. Her smile was kind, but her eyes were empty. Almost as if she was forcing herself to be present when she didn’t want to be. Still, she was goddamn beautiful.

I noticed the gauze on her neck and sat up immediately. “Are you okay? Your neck…”

She waved her hand in a dismissive manner, forcing me to lay back down. “I’m fine. It’s mostly healed anyway, take it easy. You just came back to life.”

I realized I was in my dorm room. Taehyung’s things had been cleared out already, so my side was the only one that had personality to it. I cringed seeing the mess of clothes, posters, and towels on the floor. I would’ve cleaned up had I known she would be here with me.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I died,” I gave her a soft smile as I reminisced about the memory. “Do you remember it?”

“How could I forget? That’s how everything started. The hunters killing you, me giving you my blood, you being sired… you hated it.”

There was a playfulness in her speech that made me chuckle. “I did. Oh, it was humiliating.”

“Yeah, so awful,” she said, playing along. “You hated me.”

“Well… I don’t. I haven’t for a while… and don’t think I ever truly did.”

Her eyes widened a bit and she rubbed her palms on her thighs anxiously. “It’s okay if you did. We were put in an uncomfortable situation.”

“No… it wasn’t.” I sat up with my pillow propped against the headboard and rested my back on top. I leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “I shouldn’t have been so mean back then. I let my pride get in the way. I’m sorry.”

She turned her head to the side, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Why are you apologizing now? We’re past this. Silly.”

“Because you deserve it. You deserve to hear that you were right. About everything. About… him.”

She finally looked at me, slowly retracting her hand, but I held it tightly. I feared if I let go, she’d disappear for good. Something about her hollow gaze earlier left a sinking feeling in my chest.

“If you’re going to apologize, then be specific.” She sounded exasperated and I wondered if I should’ve said nothing.

“I can sit here and blame Jimin for it all. Like how he kissed me, manipulated me into believing I enjoyed it. I can lie and say he’s the reason I didn’t believe you when I should’ve. But I won’t.”

“What’s your point?”

My voice started to crack as tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m a coward. I was scared. The sire bond ending terrified me. I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore, so maybe I pushed you away. Wanted to find an excuse to hate you, paint you like the villain you never were. I blamed you for things you didn’t do and I was wrong for it.”

No response. She only stared at our hands, so I intertwined my fingers with hers.

“Please say something,” I begged.

“While I waited for you to wake up, I read Sunghyun’s notebook. He was in love…”

“With you?”

“No. With us. He always rooted for us to be together. In his notes, he put down how much we belong together.” I saw how she was taking in quick breaths to calm down as tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry to disappoint him.”

“What are you talking about?”

She stared deep into my eyes, a grave expression on her face. “I’m leaving. Namjoon’s going to help me graduate early.”

“Well, where are you going? I’ll join you.” She shook her head before I finished my response.

“No. Jungkook, I’m leaving everything. Everyone.”

I held our intertwined hands against my chest. “No. Take me with you. Please.” I kissed the back of her hand, trembling so much that I thought I’d throw up.

“I can’t. I need to heal, I need space.”

“Then do it. I’ll give you all the space you need. Just don’t make this a goodbye.”

She pulled her hand away from me, using enough force so that I couldn’t stop her. She got up from her seat and turned her back towards me. Her fists tightened as her foot tapped the floor anxiously.

“I’m letting you go, so you can live your life. Just like I did for Taehyung.”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I scrambled to get out of bed, forcing her to turn around by gripping her shoulders.

“What is that supposed to mean? Isn’t Taehyung dead? Huh?” I shook her once to get her attention when she remained silent. “Answer me!”

“I gave him my blood.”

Her words sent my emotions into overdrive. Anger, jealousy, confusion were all fighting for dominance. “What?! Why on earth would you do that? That bastard deserves to be six feet under for everything he’s done!”

She pried my hands off her shoulders like she was repulsed to be touched by me. “Because I could! I have the ability to heal him so how could I just let him die?! I didn’t want his death to be on my conscience!”

“It wouldn’t have been! He would’ve died anyway!” I placed my hands on my hips. “So what, he’s sired to you now? You know damn well he isn’t going to turn 100 times to break it.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a whole damn lot, [Y/N]. He’s won. He wanted you and now he’s got you. And what’s worse is that you don’t seem to mind,” I ran a hand down my face, forcing a laugh at the ridiculous situation, but I was truly dying inside. “He’s tried to kill me, he’s lied, he’s backstabbed you, he was obsessed over you. He—”

“Chose me,” she said, interrupting me. “Despite all of it, he’s chosen me time and time again. I let him live because I wanted him to know I chose him at least once.”

“Do you love him?” I sounded so pathetic, but I had to know. Her silence was eating me alive. “Answer me.”

“If Taehyung had died… I would’ve been destroyed. I couldn’t carry that burden of knowing I could’ve saved him. If anyone were to die by my hands, it should’ve been Jimin.” Her eyes darkened, but I could sense the fury within her. She appeared calm on the surface, which made her even scarier in my eyes as she told me the next part. “I’m not sure if you know this, but Ari took her and Jimin to a prison world.”

“No… I didn’t know,” I breathed.

“So let me ask you this. If Jimin was here right now and I was about to kill him, would you let it happen?”

My arms slowly fell back down to my sides. My mouth was dry as I tried to form a response, but nothing came out. I felt heavy, anchored to the ground and immobilized by her question. Jimin deserved to die just like Taehyung did. I knew that. Why couldn’t I say anything?

“Do you love him?” she asked.

“No.” I didn’t sound convincing, but I meant it.

“See Jungkook? You say you don’t love Jimin, but you would save him too. Despite all he’s done. I can say I don’t love Taehyung, but I saved him anyway. Whether we want to admit it or not, we loved them in some capacity. Maybe not in the way they craved, but we did care for them.”

“Fine. You made your point. But what now, huh? Taehyung’s sired to you.”

She held her hand out in a stop motion. “I’m not finished talking. Taehyung’s… not sired to me. Not anymore.”

The relief that washed over me was overwhelming. “How?”

“I compelled him to forget about me.”

I didn’t need a sire bond to know what she was planning to do next. Fortunately, I was quicker than her and pinned her to the bed with my hand covering her eyes.

“Jungkook?”

“Please… please don’t do it,” My vision was blurry again with tears. “I know what you’re planning to do and I’m begging you to change your mind.”

She could easily overthrow me, but instead she reached her hand up to caress my face, smiling even though she couldn’t see me. “You know me so well…”

“Of course I do. After everything how could I not?”

“Then you understand why I want to do it.”

“No. I don’t. Is this my punishment? Do you wish for me to suffer?”

“Not at all.”

“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. Please let me love you, please… I’m sorry.”

I was crying so much that a tear fell onto her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away and I leaned into her touch, kissing her palm once.

“I want you to be able to live your life without being weighed down by me. The burden of everything, the trauma bonding—it’s not normal.”

“We’re not normal. Nothing about our lives is ever going to be normal. Maybe it’s not supposed to be.”

“You deserve a clean slate. To start over.”

“What’s the point if you’re not by my side?”

She sat up on the bed, but I didn’t remove my hand from her eyes. “I won’t erase everything. You’ll still remember me, but only as that girl that had a crush on you. How we sparred together sometimes. You won’t remember loving me.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting so badly to shout, but I knew I had to remain calm. It’s hard when you’re a blubbering mess though. “Erasing even a single memory of you is a crime. Each moment was a stepping stone that led me to you. There’s no point in compelling me to forget because my heart will yearn for you and only you.”

“Baby…”

“Without your love, I’m nothing. So please… stay with me. Hold on for a while longer. Let’s heal together.”

She slowly took my hand off her eyes and I let it happen. Next thing I knew, she grabbed me by my shirt, kissing me fervently, so desperate like she was afraid I’d disappear. It was ironic because all I could think about was keeping her close in case she’d vanish first.

I never broke our kiss as I pushed her down onto the bed, my body on top of hers. The way we melded together was perfect. I was made to hold her, to love her, and I wanted to show it. We were both crying because I tasted the saltiness of her tears as I kissed her.

There was no changing her mind. She knew it, I knew it. This was our goodbye kiss. So I prolonged it as best I could, caressing her face and kissing her deeper than before.

Then it happened. She caught me by surprise and flipped us around, her body now on top. My eyes opened like a stupid fool and she put her face right in front of me. Another tear cascaded down as her pupils dilated.

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

I blinked once, then twice, and my room was now empty. Sitting up, I wiped my tears away and reached my hand into my pocket. I pulled out a small, dried vervain flower and it burned when it came into contact with my skin. Compared to what I’ve been through, this pain was nothing. My moonlight had left me, fading away for good.

Until our next encounter.

a/n: Again, thank you for reading Moonstruck!!! I cried while writing the ending, I hope I made you feel something too. I do have an AO3 if you'd rather show support over there. Much love! 🌙💗

#jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfiction #hybrid jungkook #moonstruck #my scenarios

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xclowniex · 2 days

Note

I saw your post about the livestream fundraiser and I wanted to chime in. Disclaimer I am absolutely in support of raising funds for Gaza, it’s incredible work and we should all be doing our part.

With that being said another creator on that livestream is Frogan. She is part of the Ayyrabs podcast and there is an episode of the hosts talking about the war. I was interested in watching because I genuinely do seek out the stories and perspectives of others who have also been impacted by the war (I am jewish and a community member of mine is still being held hostage as we speak). In this episode (#15) she defends hamas and says it wasn’t terrorism, it’s a revolution (not an exact quote). Along with denying the amount of deaths from October 7th.

It is the episode titled “Are we on the edge of WWIII” and it truly broke my heart to hear. If you do watch it to get the exact quotes please watch it mindfully.

I did not know about her but yeah its also disspointing that she was included. And its also like not even hard to not include antisemites in your fundraiser. It really is just part of the wider trend of people uplifting antisemites who are doing some beneficial things for Palestinians. People think that we must need to put up with antisemitism because antisemites are doing beneficial things for Palestinians because the beneficial things outweigh the antisemitism. And I am not going to comment too much on that besides we should be finding people who benefit Palestine who aren't antisemitic as antisemitism is always bad, as I would like to have stats to really go into it (eg, how much benefit did antisemites actions have for Palestine vs how negatively it affected jews) and I simply do not have those stats.

I did watch the podcast episode and yeesh

"i hope all the zionists get drafted and never come back" cool so you want the majority of jews to die.

She also cheered on Iran which is obviously not good as Iran's regime is majorly oppressive.

"(lebanon) They were bombed, they were getting white phosphoroused into oblivion" - Simply just not true??? Also claimed that Israel attacked Lebanon because zionism and not because Hezbollah fired first, and argued with a cohost who was trying to correct her disinformation.

The podcast hosts also claimed that the US is fighting a proxy war with Russia through Israel and Iran. Which is???? Not true???

One of the podcast hosts said "Iran didn't do anything wrong" as if sending bombs and missiles to civlian areas is nothing wrong???

Like these people are so hypocritical. "Israel killing civilians is bad, yet an arab country targeting Israeli civilians is good". Like both situations are bad. Its not hard to say that. At this point is not even "antizionism" its antisemitism. Why is it bad for the only jewish state to kill civilians yet its good for civilians of the only jewish state to be targeted???? Its bad to kill all civilians of any country or state. Their logic is majorly fucked up.

#ask clownie #antisemitism #israel #i/p #palestine #i/p war #gaza #frogan

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hoseoksluna · 9 hours

Text

STRAWBERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi & spectacled boy)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 7.8k

summary: when your ex-boyfriend's fury burns you whole, you just might need to let hobi in to pour water over you and save you.

playlist: strawberries

pinterest board: j. / taglist: join

warnings: jungkook is nasty and mean and rly needs a trigger warning, oc is lost in her negative emotions and goes through a lot, sadness, crying, shame, longing for death, minor physical violence, oc and hobi take puffs of a shared vape <3, mental and emotional suffering, fighting, belittling, mentions of sex

note: this was an absolute pain to write as i'm not used to writing this genre of jungkook and i hope it's the last time i did skfskfsk, nah i'm just over exaggerating. i'm so happy i got this done in time. two updates in one week! wow. how did i do that? i hope you like this part. prepare yourselves for this jungkook and i'm sorry in advance..... that's all im gonna say. pls, validate me! asks, comments, anything. pretty please! i love you, my babies. big mwah.

You can still sense the ghost of his touch on your shoulder blades as you’re laying halfway on your tummy upon the crumpled bedding of your mattress. Your phone lights up and shuts off like the flickering of stars and all you can do is watch the wane and the rebirth, numbly, with the knowledge that death will never come, not when you’re still a living, breathing person because Jungkook is not the type of individual who gives up. Not easily, that is.

Hobi left but an hour ago while you slept. Kissed you goodbye. Murmured onto your forehead that he would see you again and you merely nodded amidst the magnetic pulling of your dreamland. Couldn’t peel your eyes open due to the heaviness of your tiredness, which didn’t steal, in all peculiar truthfulness, all of your attention, however. You carried on your shoulders a question way heftier. A question of how your body is still able to submit to slumber, when your blood curdles beneath your skin, when it’s so icy that you’re shivering on top of the duvet.

And the question didn’t leave when you woke up to your empty bedroom. It thumped, vigorously, against the nape of your neck. The very place Hoseok clutched when he poured his affection and admiration all over your body.

You wish he hadn’t left. You believe he would’ve possessed your burden, pretending it was his all along. Believe he wouldn’t need to know the alpha and the omega of it. Would pout his lips the way you’ve learned he often does, take the pain from you as if it were a backpack filled with stones. And it does feel like that, your mistake. Your torso is swathed with a double rope, whose end is tied with a stone that you’re cradling in your hands.

A few hours ago, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands while he kneeled for you, and now you’re anticipating the death that will never come as your stomach hurts.

But the memory of his touch is soothing. While your imaginary wings are flaccid and lackluster on the bed, his invisible hands are the force that pumps blood, feebly, into its membrane. Still warm, though a little less firm. It’s as if he were here in the flesh.

Your body is asking for him, emotionally, however your mind is forbidding you from conveying your need for him to him. Logic is whispering to you that he’s spent the entire day with you, canceled his work meeting because of you. You couldn’t possibly ask for more of his time, for more of him when he had already given you more than enough.

And besides, you can’t let your attachment reach this unhealthy depth. It triggers you, reminds you of the very thing that spliced your heart open almost a month ago. You don’t want to wander there, nor do you want to be pulled there if you were to ever let go of the reins. You can’t afford Jungkook’s life to entwine around your world again. Not when Hobi diligently dug a grave for it, threw its flesh down and covered it back with the soil, his straining muscles the very force that made you forget about… everything.

You can’t do that to yourself. And most importantly, you can’t do that to Hobi.

It’s the latter that propels you to fight. That gives you strength to raise the top half of your body onto your hands. You don’t give a fuck about yourself—you know full well that your life is cursed. Nothing good has ever come out of the events that creeped in until Hobi came along. And you don’t wish to break him out of a selfish intent. You don’t wish to break him because of him. He’s a pure angel, a saint with an honorable heart, a God that has his eye on you. You wouldn’t take it well, if the bane of the ambrosia of your life were ever to touch his lips.

He’s here, and that’s stable. He’s here, and that’s the reason why you need to protect him. From yourself, from the poison, from the rotten apple of your ex-boyfriend current persistence in entering your space all over again.

You don’t want to eat that spoiled fruit anymore, and so you simply won’t.

This decision has shifted the atmosphere because your phone is no longer going off. You sigh a breath of relief, running your fingers through your hair, and you get up, a Virgin Mary that has become a warrior for her God, and you begin to dress yourself.

You need some fresh air.

Clothing yourself in a matching outfit—a light wash baggy jeans, a cropped white tank and a denim jacket with your Nike’s, you grab your phone and keys and drift out into the night.

Your hair has dried while you slumbered and it ripples in the gentle wind of autumn. The street is lit in a darkly yellow tone, also dried from the morning’s downpour and you stop in the middle of the road, where Hobi drove past while you teased him. You breathe in the freshness of the air in effort to inhale your God, in effort to bring him into your system and your chin quivers with weakened emotions, with a weakened wish that he was here with you, holding your hand, giving you the last bit of strength you need. You know his warmth would smooth out your blood, boil it to a temperature that would cook up your joy and bring it to your heart on a silver platter. Bring it to your mind and calm the hurricane within, feed it so it doesn’t wail anymore.

And with another sigh, you will yourself to stop. Will yourself to stop needing. You will stumble and you will fall if you keep going down that road that has never shone brighter, that looks nothing like the one you’re standing in the middle of. And as inviting as it is, you close your eyes to get rid of the blessing reaching out for you—only to discover that it’s waiting for you there, too. A circle of light, of fire amidst a cloud of pure, pitch-black darkness.

You want to scream, and much to your neighbors’ dismay—you do.

It’s a singular, loud stream of your frustration, swaddled with the pulsating energy of your affection. And then your shoulders tremble. And it’s your tears that are louder than that murmuring watercourse in their very silence.

You head to the convenience store down the street with your teardrops dotting the ground as if it were the rain. You don’t want your neighbors to detect it was you, who caused the disturbance, and tell your parents. You have enough fire in your orchard, you don’t need another filling of oil.

You ask the very drowsy guy behind the counter for a strawberry ice vape. His round eyes, behind thick rimmed glasses that make them look even bigger, are barely kept open as he reaches for it with a flabby hand. Your eye catches the glint of a myriad of plan B’s right next to the shelf scattered with packs of lung burners and your heart constricts, a rivulet of emotion cascading down your cheek, caused by the fond recollection of Hobi’s intimate desire and you break—terribly, terribly break. Fruit trees crack in you, collapse to the ground with a horrendous thud and the berry bushes… they wither until they’re mere wisps of blackness. A picture of devastation.

The boy blinks twice when he turns around, regarding you, and he asks for your ID, only to startle when you glare at him. He tells you the price and you pay with your phone, thanking him and saying your curt goodbye.

One he doesn’t reciprocate.

You probably gave him the fright due to the tears marring your pallid cheeks. You hope he isn’t there the next time you’re in the mood to douse your lungs with chemicals.

Your hands are shaking as you’re tearing up the unnecessarily sturdy packaging. And your tears resume in their outpour when your manicured nails make your life harder than it already is. The tape folded over the top of the rectangular box is too thick and you hurt your nail beds when you claw at it. You have to use your teeth and the fucking thing finally gives in.

You furiously throw it out in the bin.

Feel an incoming calmness when you take a deep puff. And you do it over and over again until your cursed world spins, the plump swirls of smoke mingling with the night, never fully connecting. Not like you and Hobi.

And your world tilts on its axis once your phone lights up in your hand and there’s no picture to be found on the screen.

Your heart hammers, threatening to fling out of your throat.

Hobi is calling you.

And the thing is, you don’t really believe it.

Your vision swims as another onrush of dense tears blurs the letters of his name. You stare down at your phone, dumbly, sobbing and not caring at all that the spectacled boy can hear you.

You don’t know who does it—who swipes your finger across the screen and allows you to hear Hobi say the pet name that stole your soul. Who anoints your tears with strawberry-scented mollification while you fail to comprehend that the person you willed yourself not to need in order to not hurt him the way you were hurt somehow heard your cries and answered them like the God he is.

Because it couldn’t have been you. Not when you’ve become a lifeless sculpture in the middle of a yellowly-lit street. A modern, urban art—awakening ugliness in anyone’s first impression.

Not a sculpture of the angel you saw at the museum, the one Hobi took your picture with, though.

You're a sculpture of a road kill. A wounded, small animal, laying on its side with its guts out. And Hobi places them, with gentleness you’ve never felt before, back inside, stitches your belly closed and picks you up, carrying you in his arms. All because he repeats the pet name—with a slither of panic this time.

He acknowledged that something is wrong, validated it.

And somehow, it snaps you out of your vapor of numb sadness and shame permeates your body, cold sweat coats it—something beyond it, too. Something that makes you shiver so hard that your teeth begin to chatter, preventing you from speaking, your tongue twisted, lifeless.

A reality check.

You sent a filthy video of yourself getting rocked from behind to your ex-boyfriend, in which you screamed that your most intimate parts belong to another man.

You’re not Virgin Mary. You’re Mary Magdalene.

You don’t hear your pitiful crying fits, but Hobi does—and it is through his inhale of a trembling breath and his words that you perceive that you’re baring your ugliness to him.

“Pup, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?”

You squeeze your vape in your small fist, sensing those words doing something in you—something that untwists your tongue and lets you breathe like him, though in painful, quick staccatos. Your frail legs hurt, not able to withstand your tremor, and they give out. You fall onto your bum, the impact and the gravel shooting a spark of pain up your spine and you whimper, your tears soaking your neckline.

“Hobi,” you call out, the last vowel breaking, teeth chattering, cacophonously. “I made a mistake. A terrible mi-mistake.”

He coos, sorrowfully, his loud breath still trembling—a strong rope nonetheless that you want to hold onto. That cord wouldn’t lead you to your death, wouldn’t scrape your hands with its harsh texture, wouldn’t be wrapped around a stone on the other end.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he says and guides you to do it. You inhale the night air with him, feeling like there isn’t enough of it to appease your lungs, and you exhale.

Somehow it halts the river of your cries and you do it again. Hobi lets you, patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging you and praising you. This time, it doesn’t sprinkle you with the sultriness of sin. No, you sense it cleansing you, giving you the kind of newness you stumbled across in his car this very morning. Your palm, the one that clutches your vape, opens and it rolls onto the ground. You grab it and when you wrap your fingers around it, you perceive that you do the motion around that newness. And your heart, your submission—they’re not letting up. Not again. Not when it’s him.

“That’s it,” Hobi praises, a hint of calmness in his tone. “Can you try and tell me what happened?”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, the newness gracing you with strength that spreads feeling into your legs and you stretch them out. Blood pumps in them and you can sense the direction it’s traveling to. You tighten your grip, open your mouth to talk.

“I sent the video to the wrong person,” you utter, and along with your grip, your lungs tighten as well. No sobs escape you, no tears. Only gravely stillness, nothingness while your shame stands behind you, menacingly, a demon set out on destroying you, the curse upon your life a bracelet around its wrist, a knife in his hand, to which it’s attached.

Hobi doesn’t say anything for a moment and you can sense his shock, its cold tendrils the ice that courses down your legs. An agony forms in your heart, stretches out an arm of regret and strikes against your ribcage, pangs of guilt and self-disgust seizing your body.

“I’m so sorry, Hobi, I thought I sent it to you,” you continue, your voice splitting, though no external expression of it is evident on your countenance. It’s as if you were telling him the most ordinary of a thing. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a puff of your vape. It is only now that you can taste its strawberry savoriness and it suffuses your lungs with a mockingly sweet, feigned fume.

Hobi hears you exhale and you hear him swallow, dryly. An exchange, most redolent of the one you’ve done many times earlier.

“What are you smoking?” he asks, and it catches you off guard. You didn’t expect him to yell at you, nor did you expect him to scold you. Truth be told, your fragile state of mind didn’t let you expect anything of him, any sort of outcome. Yet this question still surprises you. It flattens lukewarmness upon your skin and you feel like nuzzling your face into it, needing more of it.

You take a deep breath. “I bought a strawberry vape. Scared the guy in the store with what I looked like.”

Hobi laughs through his nose, barely. That’s the real sweetness you know. The original one, from God himself. “I’m sure he thought you were beautiful. Should I beat him up?”

The same sound leaves you and lightness descends upon you. You welcome it in, without a fight, and the sigh you let out is of a serene kind, at last. “Not at all and besides, I almost did it myself. He asked for my ID.”

Hobi coos, the endearment prolonging—wafting through your ear down your throat until it clings to your heart. You snivel, your inkling to nuzzle into the apparition of him lining your body growing bigger until you submit to it. You graze your cheek upon your arm, propping both of them onto your lifted knees. Feel his caress, but faintly. It should be enough, but it isn't. Could never be.

You open your mouth again to tell him to come get you, despite the fight rising in you, but Hobi speaks first.

“I don’t blame him that he did. You’re just my little pup. But my adult, little pup. I’ll talk to him.” You hear a shuffling in the background and your breath hitches in your throat, your heart joining it, ascending. “Where are you? I’m getting in my car.”

Your mind, where the war is coming from, wins. That quickly. Reminds you that if you face him and tell him what you’ve done, you’ll ruin everything. Ruin the connection, ruin the affection he carries for you.

You’re hasty as you scramble your words, but as your heart descends back into your ribcage, it throws you a lifeline. It all happens in an instant and distaste pools on your tongue from the rapidness of it all. You never liked it, and you never will.

The lifeline of your new life, created by Hobi, changes your words, but leaves the intention untouched.

“Can I tell you who I sent it to?” you ask, taking a puff to relax the electricity of your nerves. The strawberry flavor only heightens it, though. Out it must go, then. So you can forget about it the moment you see his face.

The shuffling halts. “You can tell me in person,” Hobi says, lightly, but you shake your head. You know he means well. Know that he wants to reassure you with touch, but it’s a risk you can’t afford. Not when the wrong kind of neediness is at stake.

“I don’t want to talk about it when I see you,” you push, pursing your lips, finding them in a serious need of a chapstick. You begin to nibble on the flecks of skin that stick out. “I want to focus on you. I want to forget.”

No ounce of a lie in your words, though your intention still remains hidden. Rightfully so—him leaving you because of the storm of your mental state and issues is another risk you don’t want to have staining your hands with blood.

You hear him sit down. Hear him play with his keys—and the clanging sound is oddly comforting. “All right. Tell me, then.”

“I sent it to someone from my past,” you start with great difficulty, pause afterwards because a light pours in from behind. The squeak of breaks, the impatient buzzing of a running car. Your mouth dries, your torso turns around. A silhouette exits the vehicle and as the person emerges from the darkness and steps into the bright lights that it’s emitting, the name that slips past your lips is more of an acknowledgement of his presence than a disclosure of information. “Jungkook.”

Jungkook stops right behind you like the demon of your shame did, with his hands in his pocket. You don’t feel warmth radiating off of him. You feel coldness, a wintry coldness so akin to the one that troubled your body before Hobi called. He zeroes his gaze down on you, piercing your irises with a fury that causes the fine hair on the nape of your neck to rise, painfully. The muscles of his forearms are clenched, oscillating as he drums his fingers on his thighs in the cocoons of his pockets. Your breath trembles, terror prickling you profoundly until it cuts your skin open and you whimper—you whimper with a sob.

“Who’s Jungkook?” Hobi asks, softly, and you close your eyes to incarcerate your tears, curling your lips under your teeth, terribly fearful that Jungkook can hear him.

Cursed, your life is.

He shows no sign that he does—merely burns with that fury, patiently waiting for you to end the call. Your heart stills, ache replacing it, and you think it’s been wounded so much that it can barely work anymore.

More than ever, you feel like that Mary Magdalene, face to face with the devil that tempts her to return to her vomit like a dog.

Hobi calls your name, panics, and it’s another lifeline—this time thrown over your torso by his own hands. You have to fight, you have to stand up to this hell and walk the fuck away from it.

“Baby, I gotta go. Please, hurry. Please,” you pule, stressing the last pretty word to divulge to him how grave the situation is that you’re in. Hobi lets out a breath, lowly and shortly, and it’s such a relief that he understood your vague message, that you can hear him scurrying to his feet and that comforting sound of his keys clanging.

“I’ll be there in a few, pup. Tell me where you are. Are you safe? Do you have your keys?” Hobi spews, massaging your heart with his care and there’s no ceaselessness to your tears.

“Down the road, like less than a minute away from my apartment. And I don’t know. And yeah, they’re in my pocket.”

A bang of his door closing. Jungkook begins to tap his foot. You scowl at him, despite your fear. He doesn’t stop. You withdraw your gaze.

Hobi’s breath quickens. “Pull them out and use them when you need to, okay? Have them ready in your hand.” You nod, doing exactly as he says, without a thought spared. “Walk to your apartment building, I’ll meet you there. You got your keys in your hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, pup, I’ll be there soon. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

You do, but you can’t.

“I’ll go to my apartment now, Hobi. Thank you.”

You don’t allow yourself to hear what he says next. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hang up with a heavy heart. Your sudden, miserable aloneness enfolds around you, rigidly. But not as rigidly as Jungkook’s cold hand around your arm.

The heaviness in your heart grows as its drum speeds up.

“Get up,” Jungkook grunts, hauling you up onto your feet, awkwardly, causing you to drop your vape onto the gravel with the strength and hastiness he uses to do it with.

You stumble before you catch your balance and Jungkook doesn’t let go of his deathly grip on you until you do. Then, before your blurring sight, he bends at the waist and picks up your lung burner, skimming his eyes over it. Hands it to you with a scoff, his touch icy cold as he grabs your wrist and places it onto your palm. You sob, with ugliness that scars you, with such intensity that Jungkook’s narrowed eyes round and you pull your gaze away. You don’t want to see it. Tug your arm away from him, rubbing your wrist to get rid of the ghost of his fingers there, disgust flooding your bloodstream underneath.

And even though he seemingly softened at your tears, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It didn’t touch his fury, not at all.

“Baby, huh?” he seethes with gritted teeth, letting go of you so harshly that you almost stumble again. “Your pussy is his, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, rivulets of tears rolling down your cheeks, pain compressing your entire body. It’s at this moment that you will death to take you somewhere far, far away from him, because you’re too frozen on the spot to run away.

“You’re covered in hickeys and you’re smoking that shit again. Was it really that good? Did he fuck you so good that you had to send it to me in spite? Did he fuck you better than I ever did?”

Your sobs gain that same agony that prevents your lungs from inhaling. And when you open your eyes, all you can look at is your shadow and his, yours blackened so much that it digs a hole in the gravel, his furling with flames.

And along with death, you will a little strength into your anguish.

And most unbelievably, it slinks in, and your following words come as much of a surprise to you as to him.

“Stop.”

His shadow stills, his tremor following suit.

“You have no business talking to me this way,” you continue, your throat constringing, and you take a big puff of your vape—to spite him rightfully this time. It loosens the tightness and you open your mouth, not finished with your outpour.

But Jungkook stops you.

“I have no business? You crushed my fucking heart.”

Your head whips and the sight of him causes your pain to rise in levels. Palms outstretched towards you, his posture slouches and the breaths he lets out are wretched, the sound of a tumultuous sea at night. One would think he’s the one being inflicted great emotional violence on, not the other way around.

Jungkook raises a finger to his heart, licking his lips before he flattens them, as if the utterance of something so private, so fervent took all of his strength. He pants and you know it’s due to the fact that he can’t catch up to the thoughts rushing in his brain. And you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t know him so intimately.

“This fucking heart has never stopped being yours,” he confesses and cringes at his choice of words, triggered. Your stream of anguish is silent as you take them in. “And you crushed it. Ruined it.”

There was a time, one that used to be nearly endless during those weeks in August you spent at the beach, healing from the breakup, when you longed to hear that confession. Prayed for it. Sough it when you grazed your fingertips along the sand. And now that it’s here—now that you’re tasting something so great, greater than your entire being, something so burnt as he voiced out your tendency to cause ruination—you wish you never heard it. Wish you never had the ears that carried that message to you.

And there’s nothing you can do. Not as darkness swallows you, confiscating any bit of strength you had left. Your eyes sting from their downpour, face features droop. Your pain is an enormous stone and you can’t carry it. You can only chase away the heft. And you do—you take a puff of your vape.

One that he rips from your mouth and throws it out in the bin, preventing you from doing so. You don’t yelp, you don’t claw at his arm—you merely watch him rid you of your only salvation for the night, watch him exert his power over you all over again, bursting your indignation into flames.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, your voice deathly, uncannily placid, carrying no tendril of the offense and anger you feel. Adrenaline courses through you, asking to be let out.

And you just might.

Jungkook turns around and spits on the ground. “Don’t smoke that shit.”

It’s not hurt, what the expression of his arrogance produced. It unlocked the door, which kept your adrenaline and your darkened emotions at bay, invited them out.

And so you lash out, using that freedom.

You slap him.

And he takes it. Without moving an inch. Still as a grand statue. You yearn to demolish it to smithereens, so you can never see him again, and you strike at his chest with your keys in between your fingers, pushing him. Affected from the force, it causes him to unwillingly take a step back and it feels fucking glorious until you catch stars flash in his eyes.

“You’re hitting me because I threw out your fucking vape?” he asks, his voice coated with a dark bitterness that deepens it. His brows furrow, grimness casting a shadow over his face, hiding the glitter of the stars. “I’m laying my heart out to you. I’m here in the middle of the night because of you and this is what you care about? This fucking thing that harms you is more dear to you?”

You push him again, fuming. Jungkook grits his teeth, takes your wrists and holds them in the air. You fight against it, but he won’t budge. Tightens his grip. And you’re a bird, locked in a cage—but you still have your voice.

“I’m hitting you because I hate you,” you mutter, burning him with the vapor of your anger through your narrowed eyes. “I’m hitting you because I hate the way you think you’re still entitled to have a say in my life. And it doesn’t even matter whether I have a man or not. You let me go and the moment you did that, your control over my life? It went fucking bye bye.”

You let him forbid you from smoking in the past. Needed it at the time, needed a father’s hand—and you liked it because you never had it. Never had a male care about you, about your health, about your actions. Your father never spared you a glance, never gave a fuck about you. He always had your mother handle you, blaming her for the way she raised you.

But during those weeks you healed, being alone by the sea helped you unattach yourself from that, from needing Jungkook to tell you what’s right and what’s not. The moon doesn’t tell the sea which shells to wash up onto the shore—it does it by itself, handpicks them, makes the decision. And the more time you watched it deliver it to you and you collected them with gladness, the more you understood it.

You’re never letting him have that power over you again. You’re your own person, carrying an armful of your right and wrong decisions—your own possessions. And so you will smoke if you want to. You will bring a man home on the first date. You will fall in love. And you will speak up.

You twist your wrists, unrelentingly, until he lets go. You will win, not your mind, not your heart. The raw, brutal, unabashed you.

You take a step back away from him, feel your blood rushing to the places of your body parts that he held, quick to recover them. “You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. You have no place in it. You didn’t have it then when I was by myself, and you most certainly don’t have it now.”

Jungkook takes in your words with a parted mouth, a red mark forming over his cheek, the light shunned from his eyes. The glorious feeling returns, blooming thin, translucent tissues of happiness in you.

“Hoseok is his name, isn’t it?” he chunters, placing his hands back into the cocoons of his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

Hearing him say his name is a taste of spoiled milk and bile springs up your throat, your guts longing to empty themselves out. You stifle it, you have to, clutching your stomach, feeling so horribly faint. Your hatred for him blossoms like that poison ivy you dealt with earlier in the morning.

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” you spit, scowling at him, clutching your stomach harder—just like Hobi did when you brought him home. A sliver of nostalgia forces you to look behind you, in case you catch a glance of his car, but the street remains empty and sullen.

“You can hate me as much as you want,” Jungkook mutters, his words swiveling your head back to face him, and your guts ripple. “Yell at me. Hit me. But don’t send me videos of you getting fucked. That’s not fucking right.”

You bare your teeth, seething. “I made a mistake.”

Jungkook nods. “Yes,” he hushes. “Yes, you did.”

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand.” Confusion pinches his brows, creating a wrinkle in the middle and he lets you continue. You lick your lips, your face dry from the way your tears have seeped inside. “I thought I sent it to Hobi. I was too tired, I didn’t see. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jungkook scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip swiftly, mimicking you. “Don’t fucking lie to me, little girl.”

You mewl, painfully, at the pet name. It’s as if he sank a dagger in the middle of your sternum. Weariness descends upon you and you rub your eyes, wishing you had your strawberry vape, your salvation, in your fist. And you find no traces of any grit, any determination to convince him that you’re being truthful to him.

You turn around halfway. “Go home.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but the squeaking sound of brakes causes him to close it right away. You know it’s Hobi and the knowledge is more satisfying than the dose of chemicals Jungkook threw out. Relief washes over you, bringing along lightness and something that is kindred to joy. You don’t care that Hobi is about to see your ex-boyfriend. You don’t care about anything at all—you’re just so grateful that he’s here. And you’re willing to let go of your walls, of your war that you tend to be so submissive to. You’re willing to let yourself go and let Hobi take you, handle you, take care of you.

You need it. As much as it pains you, you need him after this encounter with Jungkook.

And when Hobi calls your name and you pivot on your feet to watch him walk, hurriedly, to you, your legs do give out after all. Because he’s caked in blood, a trickle of it flecked and dried on his brow, illuminated by Jungkook’s headlights. You land, awkwardly, on your bum and your wrist, wincing in pain, but it’s not his hands that lift you.

It’s a pair of hands that you know to be cold and, despising the sting of it, you shriek, pushing him away. The motion leads you to stagger into Hobi’s arm that he opens for you, his chaste, feathery touch grounding you, giving you the sense of home, even when the look he gives Jungkook is anything but warm and friendly.

“Hobi, what happened? Are you okay?”

You take his shiny, sweaty face into your hand. Your eyes could fall out of their sockets due to how beautiful he is, even bloodied, alarmed and bestial. You need to know what happened. Need to clean him up. Take him home.

But Hobi doesn’t answer you. Doesn’t look your way, only acknowledges you with his scalding touch. Stares down your ex-boyfriend with such contempt that you’re surprised the man is still standing.

You’re so pulled in, so focused on him and his unwavering expression of detestation, which flatters you and soothes you, that you don’t notice that Jungkook is leaving. Hobi snaps his fingers at him and beckons him to come back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hobi barks, his fingers lowering and hooking around the middle belt loop of your jeans.

Jungkook returns to that space of light, the black tank top he’s wearing making it seem like he’s hollow on the inside. Perhaps he is, he did hand over his heart. Wasn’t affected by your fragile state of mind, by your tears. Wounded you to the point that you will take days to recover. Only a person of complete nothingness would be able to do that.

“I saw you at the museum,” Hobi continues, brows wrinkled. “Who the fuck are you?”

You should speak. You should take this elsewhere, but you can’t. Not when you feel so small, like a little girl hiding behind the leg of her father who’s dealing with the boogeyman. And you’re reminded that this has happened before.

Only the roles were reversed.

In the wine-tinged room this morning while you were confronting Jungkook and his companion found him. She asked the same question, though the hostility she showed you could never be compared to Hobi’s unkindness. He emanates respect while she’s a condensation of insecurity.

“I see you’re the Daddy from the video,” Jungkook laughs, humorlessly, dipping his chin before he lifts it in a very evident effort to reach not only Hobi’s height but his supremacy as well. He will always wish to overpower—it’s in his nature. “Trust me, you’re not the only one she called Daddy. Long before you came along, it was all I heard from her—”

You blink and Jungkook’s face is in Hobi’s hand.

You gasp. You’re a witness to Hobi protecting your dignity as he squeezes his cheeks until Jungkook moans, pathetically, in pain. And all you can think about is how long he had that coming. For throwing out your vape, for his arrogance and now for the way that he spoke about you.

You don’t feel a slither of pity for him.

No—your joy, fully, forms.

“If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I won’t hesitate to unable to you talk,” Hobi says with concerning seriousness and you shiver, grazing your fingertips along your collarbones after you fold your arms over your chest, touched, flattered, loved. A line of tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, but you hold them back. You don’t want to cry anymore—you’re sick of it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. Hobi waggles him before he lets him go and you swear you caught a tinge of whiteness scattering along his knuckles. Your mouth dries.

“Now you’re dismissed,” Hobi finishes, turning around and grabbing your hand, tugging you back home.

Your legs follow him, but your vision doesn’t. It remains fixed on Jungkook, on his heaving chest, on his reddened cheeks, embossed with Hobi’s fingerprints and the lines of your hand. His eyes are smothered with stars, a skyful of them, ones that expand until there’s no darkness left.

And you’re witness to regret taking shape in them.

And something about that tells you that this isn’t the last time you see him.

Hobi had been in a car accident on his way to rescue you. He tells you of it as you’re cleaning him up with a lukewarm, wet cloth and your arm gets stuck in the air, unable to move, as you comprehend the life-threatening danger he underwent because of you. Another driver bumped him from the back while he was slowing down at the yellow light, wanted to race on the almost empty highway. Was under the influence, Hobi found out when he stepped out of his vehicle to grapple with him. Deemed it wasn’t worth it, especially when time was pressing down on him, and with a little manipulation and an installment of fear, the silly guy agreed to pay for everything and Hobi got his number.

You wonder at how he managed to get back inside his car and drive when he hit his head on the steering wheel. You worry that he has a concussion. Suggest to take him to a hospital, but Hobi only shakes his head, reassures you he’s fine and once you completely clean the blood off of his brow, you can see a thin but bulbous scratch right beneath the fine hair, surrounded by violets and pinks. A different bruise from the ones bestrewn over his body from your mouth.

Your heart aches. This is all your fault, the repercussion of your neediness, the finished work of your ruination.

You grow solemn, your features drooping again, but Hobi isn’t blind to it. Cups your chin, lifts it, fondles it with his thumb. Pouts ever so slightly. Why is it a relief that you feel bursting in your chest amidst your lingering pain is something you can’t really understand.

But he’s God. No wonder he’s able to mount such strangeness in you and make it work.

“Did he hurt you?” Hobi whispers, cradling your other hand on your lap. He’s sat in your armchair, with you on his thighs, in the very corner of your dark living room, lit up coolly and solely by your antique lampshade. It’s where you read your poetry, where you recite it to nobody else but you, where you recharge your battery when your world exhausts you. The fact that Hobi chose to sit here instead of your couch speaks volumes, has a great meaning that you’re too weary to decipher and romanticize, but you like it. A lot. To the point that you’re comfortable enough to answer his question, despite the fact you looked forward to Jungkook’s absence in your alone time with Hobi.

“The way he spoke about me was the same way he talked to me,” you say, your voice coated with milky sadness. Your eyes instinctively drop to his hand holding yours, to his fist wrapped around your fingers. “He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t send it to him on purpose.”

Brusqueness clouds his eyes, but he remains gentle with you. “You don’t have to care about what he thinks, whether he believes you or not. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Your one word is enough,” Hobi says, drifting his hand down your arm until it winds up at his other one intertwined with yours and you sob, tearlessly. It’s precisely what you needed to hear without knowing it, the final touch to the closing chapter that had so abruptly opened. You carry it into your minuscule heart, sinking it there, letting it permeate its entirety, and you nod your head. “Did he hurt you physically?”

You lay yourself down on his chest, on his bloodstained blue shirt, on his heart that you missed and Hobi locks you in, taking his hands and wrapping them around your form. You could fall asleep like this, forget and become the happiest girl in the world.

“Not that much.”

His heart quickens and you regret your words.

“What do you mean not that much?”

You’re quick to fix your mistake, not thinking it through.

“He was rough with me. My legs gave out on me before he came. He found me on the ground and he lifted me up. Then held my wrists when I hit him—”

“You hit him?”

You stammer, jumbling your words, deciding on just one. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, squeezing your arm, and this is the death you longed for.

Never in your life had you ever experienced praise from a man in a non-sexual context and not gotten lustfully affected by it. The purity, the newness is so healing, so consequential that you can’t help but to stroke his clothed ribs in side to side motion, in appreciation and even a faint smile of fondness curls your lips, one that Hobi can very well see from above. He caresses the trace of it while it is still there, causing your smile to blossom, and you sense the orchard in you gaining life.

“You went through so much emotional suffering today and yet you’re still able to smile. All because I praised you. You react so beautifully to it,” Hobi comments and you blush, his thumb skipping over to it, giving it the same attention, collecting it like keepsakes. You’d wonder at it, too, if you haven’t already acknowledged yourself, intimately, with his sovereign power of erasing past events.

And you tell him, peeling your torso off of his chest.

“It’s your doing. You make me forget about everything when I’m with you. It’s like it never happened at all. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hobi smiles, the corners of his glimmering eyes crinkling. “If it’s my doing, then it’s yours, too. You should know how you do it.”

You soften into liquid and it’s your heart that quietly weeps now. “You remember the poem.”

He nods, gliding his hand up and down your side. “How could I not? It’s all I can hear in my mind. I kept hearing it on my way home and then on my way back to you.”

That alone takes the unfateful events of the night off of you like a layer of clothing, dressing you in strength. You need a giant puff of your vape, just to recuperate from being drowned in the sea of your past longing for this. And you reach into the pocket of your jeans, only to be reminded of what happened to it.

It feels like a distant memory. So much had occurred that it slipped from your mind. You frown.

“What’s wrong?”

You purse your lips. “I thought I still had my vape.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head. “He threw it out.”

Hobi seems as offended by the information as you were when you watched it happen. And as much as you bonded over your sexual desires, the same connection clicks over this.

“He’s such a dick. Let’s get you a new one.”

He pats your bum and then you’re on your feet, tugged back outside, with a smile quivering your lips. And this time you follow him with your vision, too. Your eyes sail over his strong imaginary wings, on which the pink dominates the black, and you feel your own being upheaved, slowly gaining the vigor that they lost.

And Hobi scares the spectacled boy in the convenience store. Not with his stained shirt, but with the way he provokes embarrassment in him by asking him if he wants to see his ID as well, staying true to the words he said to you over the phone. The boy didn’t even so much as peek at you, too afraid to do so.

It made you laugh.

Hobi double checked with you if it were the strawberry flavor that you wanted, and you changed your mind. Picked the blackberry one because you never had it before. Could use another dose of newness.

He opens the packaging with you, struggling at first, but then he immediately uses his teeth. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Smile even as he places it between your lips, but you can’t take a puff, can’t drop the presence of your happiness, even when he encourages you. That is until he inhales it first—you’re so struck by the beauty of it, of him that the muscles in your face let up. The smoke twirls around the feathers of his wings, adding just the right amount of white into its art, and you yearn to fall asleep on them.

“Can you stay over tonight?”

“Only if you take a puff.”

He carves it between your lips and this time, as you’re so mesmerized by him, you wrap your lips around it and suck; suck in that heady, hefty, colorful flavor that pools warmly in your throat, blowing the smoke around his neck while he kisses your forehead. Takes you back inside. Dresses you in your pajamas. Lets you smoke in bed with his wings swaddling you and your little childhood bows-adorned bunny plushie. Lets you put the vape in his mouth as he strokes your hair.

The night birds begin to sing and into their song your phone dings. You know who it is long before you prove yourself right.

But it’s not a text message that disturbed their music.

Jungkook sent you a picture.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

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