#Fun fact! My backyard is absolutely enormous

[supercorpkid]

Rager Teenager.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader

Word Count: 2900.

Alex doesn’t even look shocked when she sees you landing in her backyard, dropping a bag of clothes loudly on the ground.

“Hey.” You greet her with a smile, looking at her standing in the doorway with a glass of wine in her hands.

“Running away, kiddo?” She points at the bag, but she means it like a joke. Let’s just say you were quite generous with the amount of clothes you packed. You could be leaving the house for a month, for what it’s worth. Yet, no one would actually think that you are running away from home.

“Yep.” You shrug it off. Her eyebrows are pinched together immediately. “Can I stay?”

Alex moves away from the door, giving you space to walk in. “Should I call your moms to let them know or-?”

“Nah, they’re aware.” You pick up your bag and make your way inside, passing her on the way in. “Hi, aunt Kelly. Where’s Jamie?”

“Oh, hi.” Kelly smiles at you from her wine glass. She then acknowledges the bag, pointing at it with her face. “Is that some big creation or something fun for you two to do?”

“Actually, just my clothes. I’m moving in.” You smile making your way to the stairs. “Indefinitely.”

“Oh. Sounds fun.” Kelly gives you two thumbs up, not looking as amused as she made it sound. “Your cousin is upstairs.”

“Cool. Thanks for letting me stay.” You say, making your way to Jamie’s bedroom to surprise her.

You are aware they didn’t exactly let you stay. Especially not ‘indefinitely’. But you know they would never say no to you, just like your moms would never say no to Jamie if she wanted to stay at your house. You also know that Alex is probably calling Kara right now, and that at some point tonight Kelly will try to assess how you’re feeling, claiming this is an open safe space.

It’s annoying that they’ll treat you like you’re the one that needs to talk about your feelings and understand them. You do understand what you’re feeling. You’re feeling like they think you should be ok with the fact that you don’t need their attention anymore. And of course you don’t need it. But you want it.

Your moms have always been your best friend. You tell them everything and you like that. You like the fact that you don’t have to be rebellious to get their attention, because you are the most important person in their lives, and you liked that feeling.

But well, now things are different. Maybe you need to change a little. Make a little trouble. Be a rebel rascal. A wild child. A rager teenager.

“Hey!” You drop your bag in a loud thud on the floor, making Jamie look up from her phone.

“I see you finally brought back all the things you borrowed from me.” She points at the bag with her eyes, and you roll yours in response.

“You wish.” You throw yourself on her bed, in front of her. “I’m actually moving in.”

“You don’t say.” She throws her phone to the side, looking at you with curiosity in her eyes. “Well, go on. Let’s hear it.”

You tell her everything and Jamie looks amused that the first time you’re throwing a tantrum is over something so dumb as not getting their attention. Says the girl who doesn’t pick up her phone at eight -not even in a life-threatening situation- because that’s her catch up time with her moms.

“So your big rebellious act is coming to my house?” You nod. “I would’ve thought staying with, I don’t know, Lillian Luthor would be far more dramatic.”

“Should I?” You ask out loud, but you’re actually talking to yourself. “No, right? No. That’s insane.” Is it? Yes, yes it is. “But I do have another rebellious idea in my baggage.”

Jamie zeroes in the bag you brought in. Sure the bag is big, but it doesn’t fit what you’re thinking.

“Not my actual bag.” You roll your eyes. “I meant my emotional baggage.”

“Oh, that’s a lot bigger than that one.” She agrees with her head, making her point. You look at the enormous bag on the floor of her bedroom.

“No, it’s not.”

“Hey, remember that time you almost died?”

“Which one?” You ask and she gives you a satisfied grin, like she is saying ‘touché’. Yeah, you guess she has a point.

“ANYWAYS!” You say, trying to ignore her. “Movies!”

See, it was kind of obvious that you wouldn’t be good at being rebellious. You never had to do this before. You’ve only seen it in movies. Ok, so let’s try what movies did. In Harry Potter, Hermione's big rebellious act was erasing her parents' mind. Huh. That you have the means to do. But no, that’s insane. Right? Right! Making your moms forget you is insane! Maybe you should think of rom-coms or teen movies. Hm, in ‘Mean Girls’ Cady throws a party when they’re parents aren’t in the house and dresses slutty or whatever. You can’t pull any of this off. Who would come to your party? How would you kick your moms out of the house? And you would rather die than dress slutty.

“Movies.” Jamie repeats, incredulous. “You know, for a genius you really lack basic information at times.” She says making you gruff. “You want to be rebellious? Steal Lena’s BMW, sneak out, go to a party, get drunk-”

“I can’t exactly get drunk unless it is alien alcohol.” You add.

“Steal alien alcohol.” She adds to the list, a little disgruntled that you made her lose her train of thought. “Make me go with you.”

“You’re literally giving me the idea.”

“Hmm, yes. Because I’m dying to go to this party Maya told me about, but I need plausible deniability. As in-”

“If your moms ask, it was all my fault?” You ask with an eyebrow raise and she agrees with her head. “Ok, fine. I’ll take the blame. But I think we can be more rebellious than that.” You give her a wicked smile. “Can you imagine how crazy it would be if-” You take off your glasses. “She went to a party?”

“WHAT!” Jamie sits straighter in bed looking equally terrified and excited. “No! You can’t have Superkid go to a party! She is a SUPER! Kara would absolutely kill you.”

“What’s the point of only pissing off Lena? I do that way too much already.” You throw yourself back in bed, thinking about it. “Besides, no one wants a Luthor in their party. Now, who’s going to say no to Superkid?”

“Ok, wait a minute. I-I-” You can tell you have made Jamie really confused when you leave her speechless. “Superkid doesn’t even exist anymore, and you want to bring her back just so you can go to a party?”

“Superkid doesn’t-'' You laugh, then furrow your brows. Holy shit, people still think you’re not supering anymore. “Oh, yeah, about that. I’ve been supering in secret ever since I came back from that other reality.”

“You-” Jamie’s mouth comically open wide like a cartoon character. “But-You-And then-I don’t get it.”

“See? That’s why I’ve been doing it in secret.”

Because how do you do it? How do you go back to being a superhero when you made such a big deal about not ever wanting to be a superhero ever again in your life? How do you unsay it?

Should you just come back home and be like ‘oh yeah, by the way, Superkid exists again, and you have to go back to worrying about me, Lena. And yes, Kara, you might have to go to outer space save me again a couple of times. No biggy. Good night!’

So you don't, right? You sneak in in secret instead. Pray you don't die on the job. Pray they don't find out. And mostly, you pray that you're doing the correct thing, because it's the righteous thing to do and not because you selfishly want that powerful feeling you had before.

“So for weeks you’ve been going around National City saving people and no one knew?” You nod. She needs to make sure. Jamie slaps your arm like you could feel pain. “You didn’t even tell me?”

“I’m telling you right now. Before anyone else.” She still rolls her eyes at you. “Come on, it’s a great way for Superkid to do her comeback. At a party, dancing with stupid teens.” Jamie looks unconvinced. “We can still take Lena’s car.”

“Why would we need it? You can just fly us there.”

“Yeah, I know. But it will piss off Lena.” You give her another wicked grin. “I’ll let you drive.”

“Yeah, ok, cool.”

Simple as that.

So it’s Friday night, Jamie agrees she will go to the party with Maya, and you told your girlfriend you were grounded. Yes, it’s a lie. But barely. You’re sure you’ll be grounded right after this, anyways.

It’s before midnight when both of your aunts say goodnight and go to bed. Kelly makes sure she schedules a ‘talking about your feelings’ session right on Saturday morning with you, before she leaves, though. Ugh, this won’t be fun.

You give them some time, then use your super hearing to make sure they are asleep, before you fly out the window and look for Lena. Like you suspected it’s Friday night and she’s made it back to L Corp, after you left home. Rao, you’re so mad.

You fly home and check for Kara’s presence. All clear. Must be tailing Arnold McKenan or running away from her problems. For someone so brave, you can’t believe how much of a coward she is when it comes to Lena. Rao, you’re raging.

You grab Lena’s car keys, your supersuit in their closet, and then pick the car up and drop off in front of Jamie. You love Jamie, and you know she drives better than you do, but still you fly behind her car the entire time to make sure she is safe. Damn the car, if it was for you, you would toss it in the ocean, it’s Jamie you care about.

“Holy!” Maya says, when she slides in the car. “That’s-wow! Did you steal this?”

“For sure.” Jamie smiles and drives off, leaving nothing but tire marks behind.

“Is that why Superkid is following us?” Maya asks, and you smile to yourself.

“Nah. She was saving a kitten and I asked if she wanted to come to a party. Now, she’s following the car.”

“WHAT!” Maya yells, sounding excited. “You’re joking! We’re going to a party with Superkid?” She gets nothing but a nod. “Holy fucking shit! I can’t believe my girlfriend won’t be there. Maybe we could convince her to sneak out?”

“Please. Do you even know your girlfriend?” You hear Jamie’s response. “She would never.” You scoff. “Besides, I don’t want to be third-wheeling all night. You guys are awfully handsy.”

“Yeah, well. She’s hot.” Maya says, making you smile even more. “Here. We’re here.” And so Jamie parks.

“Hi!” You open the car’s door to Maya, giving you her hand so she can exit the car. “I’m Superkid.”

“Of course you are.” She manages to say, looking red as a tomato.

“Your friend Jamie said it was ok if I came. I hope I’m not intruding on anything.”

“NO! No! Not at all. You’re more than welcomed. I mean, it’s not my party, but I’m guessing you will be more than welcome. I mean, who wouldn’t want Superkid in their party, right? So yeah you’re welcome! Anyways, you cool? I’m cool.” She rambles, making you and Jamie share a look. “Oof, I’m sweating.”

“Don’t be nervous.” You put your hand on her shoulder for a light squeeze. “I’m just a normal teen.”

She wheezes out a laugh. “I don’t know about normal.”

“More than you think. Shall we?” You point inside the house, and she agrees with her head. They fall a little behind you, and you can hear Maya whispering.

“Doesn’t she look awfully familiar?”

“Haven’t you met her before a few times?” Jamie saves you and you smile when Maya agrees, and lets it go.

Let’s just say going to a party as Superkid is on the top of the best ideas you’ve ever had. Superkid is a big hit. There’s even a line so people can take pictures with you. And they all love you. You’ve never felt so loved in your life. This was exactly what you needed.

It sucks that alcohol does literally nothing to you, but you still enjoy watching Jamie and Maya getting louder and flushed and talking nonsense to you all night. So this is what it's like to be a normal teenage girl? You’ll take it.

It is also very exciting that Maya can’t ever stop bringing your name up. The real you. Not Superkid. Not you in this shiny suit. The nerdy you that is apparently home, texting her so she can enjoy the party.

The night goes on and you don’t think once about Lena in her stupid office, doing her dreary paperwork, acting like that fucking company is more important than your family’s existence. You also don’t think about Kara in that stupid DEO, doing her dreary patrol, acting like the fucking world is more important than your family’s wellbeing. Or maybe you thought about it once or twice. But not as much as you would if you were home alone waiting for them. But hey, you shouldn’t be thinking about them! They sure as hell aren’t thinking about you right now.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Jamie says looking at her phone. “It’s mami! She probably noticed I’m not in my bedroom.”

“It’s ok. Let me see that.” You grab her phone. “I’ll take this up in the sky, so she doesn’t hear all the noise.”

“You’re going to answer her phone?” Maya asks, and you realize that it doesn’t make a lot of sense for you to be answering the phone of some girl you just met. Damn! Maya still makes sense even with all the alcohol.

“Oh. Um. I’m really good at impressions!” You say with a smile. But you can’t actually impersonate Jamie. You put both hands on your waist and look up. “Hope, help, and compassion for all.” Then you smile. “That was Supergirl.”

“It was perfect.” She says, and now the alcohol is probably doing the effect again.

“Ok! Gotta go!” You fly up and notice that a bunch camera flashes follow you. Feels good to be loved. “Heeeey auntie.”

“Where the hell are the two of you?” Kelly yells through her phone and you actually have to take it off your ear, because it’s too loud.

“Oh!” Think of something, come on. “We’re at-at the Fortress. I brought Jamie to help me look for this thing-”

“And none of you thought it was a good idea to let us know that? We were here thinking she was kidnapped!”

“By whom?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s a new threat every day in this town! A few weeks ago you literally vanished from your bedroom one night!” Oh, that. What a cool funny story, that no one thinks is cool nor fun, except you. Kelly exhales. “Why didn’t she pick up the phone herself?”

“Oh! I think she got lost in one of the rooms.” You hate that you’re lying so much. You never once lied to Kelly before. What if she just knows? “Don’t worry, auntie. We’re safe, and will be back home in bed soon, ok? Go to bed, everything is ok. Goodnight!”

You hang up before she answers. Way to be suspicious. You come back to the party and see Jamie hyperventilating afraid of the conversation you just had.

“We should go.”

“Relax, I handled it.” You pick up another jello shot, putting on Jamie’s hand. “Chill, I’ve got this. No one will ever know.”

And when you make it back home and park Lena’s car exactly like it was parked -in all honesty Jamie couldn’t parallel park so you picked it up and put it in its place-, you think no one will ever know. And when you and Jamie sneak in her bedroom and go straight to bed, and none of her moms wake up, you are sure no one will ever know.

Wouldn’t it be nice if that was actually the case? But when you wake up the next morning… Oh, crap. Oh, shit. Oh, no. What are Kara and Lena doing here?

[mimiatmidnight]

Predictions on Baby Girl Sussex?

I’m FREEEEEEEE from finals and ready to chat with you all once again! Thank you all for being so patient, I’m so excited to dive into all your questions and give them the novel-length responses they deserve 😉

I’m assuming you mean name predictions haha, cause the only other thing I can think of to predict would be her birthday (for the record, I’ll go ahead and put my sister’s birthday, June 10th, for no reason other than I predicted my own birthday, April 26th, for Archie!). But I love talking about baby names (as you can see by the length of this post 😅), so let’s get into it.

So I fully expect to be completely taken aback by their pick. Like not even on the same planet as my predictions. Cause that’s just how those two roll lmao. But IF they’re staying in the same theme as Archie’s name, I’m expecting something that’s also short, possibly nickname-y, kind of dusty and vintage, but with a whimsical charm, just like Archie’s. I am still operating with the assumption that she will one day be Princess (whether or not that actually happens, of course, remains to be seen), so I’m trying to keep that title in mind. And also, given that name meanings appear to hold significance to them, I tried to at least somewhat keep meanings in mind. So, in no particular order:

Eloise

“Healthy; wide”

French, English

I am SO charmed by this name. If I hadn’t already decided on Elliott for my future son’s name, this name would be right at the top of my future daughter’s list. I just thinks it’s so delightfully playful yet still timeless and classic. It gives easy and pretty nicknames with Ellie and Ella, or even Lizzy (possibly to honor her great-grandmother?). “Archie and Eloise” sounds so perfect and natural to me, without sounding kitschy or too over the top with the matching. “Princess Eloise” is so deliciously perfect, it just fits together like a puzzle piece.

Eleanor

Unknown meaning

English, French

Eleanor hits almost all the same beats I mentioned above for Eloise, even down to the lovely Ellie/Ella nicknames. It’s even more royal than Eloise, with such heady associations as the legendary Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine (not to mention the American Queen, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt!). Eloise is closer to my heart, but I’d be thrilled with Eleanor as well.

Greta

“Pearl”; diminutive of Margaret

German

This one’s quite old-fashioned, but I think it’s so charming and would make an adorable name on a little girl. And fun fact, the name Meghan comes from a nickname for Margaret, which is why both those names as well as Greta all mean “Pearl.” So this would be a perfect way to honor little girl’s mama in a more subtle way.

Poppy

“Red flower”

Latin, English

Spunky yet sweet. Pays tribute to her mother’s homeland of California, while also sounding very at home in her father’s homeland of the UK. A flower name in honor of her mama’s own mama. This scarlet name would be even more perfect if the Ginger Avenger manages to make himself another little Gingette. And as I said to one of my anons the other day, “Princess Poppy” is so screeching cute I might actually combust if I think about it too much, so let’s move on.

Lea

“Meadow; weary”

English

To be totally honest, this one is mostly just because I’ve been addicted to listening to “Lea” by TOTO on repeat lately. Although “Princess Lea” might be a bit too . . . you know. Stor Wors. Even though the sci-fi princess pronounces her name differently, I think they’ll probably still want to avoid that association. Still, that song is heavenly and the name goes with all my criteria so I’m putting it in anyways.

Hazel

“Hazelnut tree”

English

Another nature name, one that I’m sure our favorite Earth Mama will enjoy ;) It’s newly popular, but in my opinion still retains that distinctive and whimsical uniqueness of a name that’s much further on the fringe than Hazel actually is. I can just picture a little hazel-eyed princess running barefoot around her gorgeous backyard, wild hair all spread out as she lays underneath a hazelnut tree. Ugh, so cute.

Etta

“Estate ruler”; feminine diminutive of Henry

English, Scottish

I suppose in response to Archie’s middle name Harrison, I’ve seen some Squaddies predict Henrietta for his little sister. And um . . . that is not a favorite of mine 😅 But if Harry wants to add his brand to his second little munchkin as well, why not Henrietta’s much more sleek and dynamic offshoot, Etta? It's got that old school feel, with also a spark of liveliness. I also love that it ties to their Black ancestry through one of the most legendary Queens of American Soul Music, Etta James.

Maeve

“She who intoxicates”

Irish

Incredibly endearing with a rich history. For my own personal use, this safer option might actually be called upon for my future daughter if I never manage to work up the courage to use my actual long-time Irish favorite, Saoirse. But for Harry and Meghan, I can’t really see them using this one. Still, I felt like I needed an M name to cover all my bases, and this is one of the few that I like. Some other honorable “M”entions (get it?) include Maisie, Melody, and Madeleine (thank you to my lovely anon for this one!).

Francesca

“From France; free man”; variation of Frances

Italian

I haven’t really mentioned middle names here, mostly because this post is long enough already and middle name combos just add a whole other level of crazy. But given the enormous legacy of her grandmother, I am extremely torn on whether Baby Girl will be getting a name in her honor. If her parents so choose, Diana’s middle name Frances, or even it’s more ornately feminine variation, Francesca, would be lovely honors for the little princess to carry. If they do end up honoring Diana, I’d expect it to be in Baby Girl’s middle name.

Violet

“Purple”

Latin, English

One last flower name for Earth Mama Meghan. Violet was my top pick for Archie when he was still the mysterious Baby Sussex, but though it has since fallen from my top spot, it still is a lovely, classic name of inarguable feminine grace, yet with an underlying core of strength and fortitude. I feel like Violet is a woman who ties her hair back with a soft velvet bow, but then hitches up her skirts, draws her sword, and shows the battlefield who’s boss. I just love the duality of this name, and I think it would be a lovely gift for a little girl.

Alice

“Noble”

German

Vintage, classic, girly, and solidly royal, this name calls to mind white rabbits and looking glasses. Once again, on a personal note, this might be an option for my future daughter if I chicken out on trying to get everyone to pronounce Alicia correctly. I love that name in the Spanish pronunciation, “Ah-lee-see-ah,” but I find the Anglicized “Ah-lee-sha” to be dreadful and I wouldn’t want to burden my girl with a lifetime of corrections. Anyways, Alice is just as elegant, if not quite as ornate, and in any case is much more likely for our British-American princess. Plus, what a stunning pair of name meanings to gift these two siblings: “Brave” Archie and “Noble” Alice. They sound straight out of an Arthurian legend. (Plus, how cute would “Archie and Alice” sound!)

Honorable Mentions Cause I Need To Wrap This Shit Up:

Evie/Edie (both follow all the E names I wrote about above, and Edie in particular is a modern name full of moxie that would be a great nickname for the older, traditional Edith)

Lily (yet another flower name, and I just like the sound of this one)

Spencer (another possible route to honoring Granny Diana, yet maintaining a much more modern and spunky taste than Frances, while also being less direct)

Clara (of Nutcracker fame, adding here mostly because I think I’d melt if I heard this in Harry’s voice and accent)

Lucy (same vibes as Alice and Clara)

Ivy (cute, simple, girly nature name, but unfortunately already in use by the daughter of Meghan’s close friend Jessica Mulroney)

Zoe (I have absolutely no personal connection to this name, but for some reason it just now randomly popped into my head as something they might choose, so here ya go)

So yeah! Sorry this was so long, but it was super fun! Thank you for sending in this great question. I’d love to hear all your guys’ name predictions, dream picks, and wild card guesses!

[rockofeye]

Hello! I have learned so much from your blog and the resources you’ve provided. Thank you for maintaining this space. For a while, I’ve been grappling with belief or faith in the existence of deities, spirits, and other spiritual beings. If it’s not too intrusive or personal, could you share any examples of supernatural occurrences that really demonstrated to you: wow, these things are really real? I apologize if my request is inappropriate or poorly phrased. I’m just searching for answers.

Hello!

I’m glad you have found the blog helpful–beyond just writing about my own experiences, that’s kinda been the whole point!

Faith is a hard thing. There’s no easy on and off switch and we can’t just have it transplanted into us or magically just show up. It’s something I struggled with for a long time because I am a natural skeptic and sometimes a bit of a pessimistic skeptic. I had to learn for myself that faith was a muscle that I needed to exercise to make it work. I think that’s a hard thing, especially in a world and (often) culture that has us explicitly or implicitly looking for proof of things that can often be unseen. 

How I worked through a lot of that for myself was really ‘fake it ‘til you make it’. I acted as if things were of course absolutely one hundred percent as real as the person sitting next to me on the Subway, and, for me, that opened a door for those things to really manifest. Like, I am stubborn and I decided to be stubborn in that way and it worked for me. It was like I was meeting the spirits at least halfway and it gave them something to work with. For me, it worked. The spirits sort of kicked that door in and here we are. YMMV, of course, but really looking at things with open eyes can show you what there is to see. We often say in the religion that Ginen is open for all those who have eyes to see it….a lot of starting out in Vodou is learning how to see.

I am always happy to share a good story. Sharing makes me happy because it fulfills my idealistic desire to give people what was and continues to be given to me: when I was just starting out, people spent hours telling me stories about how they came to be where they were with their spirits. Now stories teach me specific things about the nature of spirits, the nature of spiritual work, and how I operate as a priest.  Story-telling is a huge way we learn things in Vodou, since it is a primarily orally-passed religion, and it is how we connect with each other and form bonds. 

On the other hand, stories can be incredibly personal, and some of the meaning of stories can get lost without personal context, so don’t hold what I say as the be all end all of faith. That being said, the faith I have developed in my spirits over time has become the foundation for my life and I hope it can give a little hope to others.

On with the stories! Not all are distinctly Vodou-related, but most are. Have three:

When I was a small child (no more than 5 or 6), I had a nightmare that I woke up screaming from. I had it a few times, but it stuck with me. I don’t have a lot of clear memories of my childhood, but I have always remembered this dream:

I was playing in the backyard of the house I grew up in and my father was doing yard work. Behind a sort of stone platform was this grinning skeleton who looked at me and laughed, and that terrified me because I was young and scared of scary things. My father was near me, and all of a sudden, the skeleton took out a gun and shot him in the stomach. I watched the blood spread on my dad’s tshirt and he asked me to go and get him a fresh tshirt to wear (normal request for him).

I woke up absolutely terrified from this and it stuck with me basically forever, without me thinking much more of it….until a fete just before I went to Haiti the first time. It was a fet Kouzen and Gede showed up randomly while Kouzen was eating, and I was tending to Gede.

All of a sudden I had this world-crashing-on-my-head moment of clarity and I looked at Gede and said ‘it was you in the dream, wasn’t it’. He started cackling and patted my cheek and told me I had always been his child. Gede had protected/saved me from my father, who has never been a good person. He watched over me while I was small and kept me as safe as was possible.

–

For a long time, I worked third shift in various human services settings. At one program, I worked with a co-worker who I came to know pretty well, and we had a good rhythm to our shifts: for the first four hours, I sat upstairs monitoring the clients while they slept, and she stayed downstairs. We would switch halfway through the night.

One night, I am sitting upstairs and everything is quiet. Co-worker is napping, I am reading, clients are all asleep. All of a sudden, there is this enormous, deafening crash down in the kitchen. I call down and ask my coworker if that was her and if she was okay, she says it was not her and goes to investigate. Nothing is out of place, except a locked cabinet that she left locked was now unlocked and wide open. I didn’t unlock it, she didn’t unlock it, and she is freaked out. 

When I come downstairs for a moment, we hear footsteps on the opposite side of the house (same floor) that we are on, but there is no one there--we can see where we hear it. At this point, every light on the first floor is on and we have checked every door and window on the first floor. They’re all locked. More strange sounds and coworker is very unhappy. She’s from a traditional culture and is on the phone with her sister in her home country talking about how to cast the devil out.

We switch spots for the night, and I go to take a nap on one of the couches in one of the living rooms. It’s post 3AM and as I am falling asleep, I am jolted away by a creepy male voice in my ear and breath on my cheek saying ‘are you ready?’. I leap off the fucking couch and flip on the light, and there is no one there (of course). Like, I am not easily frightened but I expected to turn the lights on and find a man with a knife standing over me. What’s worse is that I could feel the presence of a gross man. I lay there the rest of the night with the lights on.

Around 5:30AM, the first person for the day shift came in. She usually left us alone and had her coffee another room. At about 6AM, I hear what sounds like one of the clients overexuberantly crashing down the stairs. It’s too early for them to be downstairs, so I go to investigate...no client to be found, early coworker saw no client, and upstairs coworker confirms no client is out of their bed. Everyone heard it, but we have no idea where it came from. 

As I am crossing the landing at the bottom of the stairs, I can feel someone looking down on me from the landing above where the stairs turn, and, out of the corner of my eye, I see a large dark figure. Of course when I turn to look, there is no one there...but this huge sense of malice was sort of hovering and I know for a fact, if I had been coming down those stairs right then, I would have fallen and broken my leg. 

Early coworker confirmed that she thought the place was haunted like a motherfucker, and talked about the shadowy figure she has seen and the fact that any clients that were placed in one of the back bedrooms always went a little nuts, because there was something definitively wrong with that bedroom.

I went back the next night and had a ‘look, motherfucker’ conversation with Mr. Murder and told him that if he didn’t leave me alone, I would evict him and it would not be fun. I had no more problems there, really, but it shook me up because it was so tangible and so damn nasty.

--

When I was preparing for kanzo, a lot of unexpected things happened including me packing to leave my apartment the day before I left for Haiti. It sucked quite a bit, but it was definitely for a reason and I don’t regret it.

It was about 1AM the night before I was scheduled to leave, and I had spent the day bringing stuff over to a friend’s house since I was using their basement as free storage. I realized that I had not brought any of my clothes over to storage. Like, two giant garbage bags sitting in my room full of all the clothes I was not taking, and I nearly had a breakdown. I had sold my car that same day, and I had to get across the city with very little cash and two giant contractor bags full of clothes. I called a cab, and it never showed and so I sat on the curb outside my apartment trying not to cry, and I called an Uber. 

Happily, the Uber came. A cute little silver car pulled up, and out jumped a Haitian man dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt. He grabbed my two giant bags like they were nothing, tossed them in the trunk, and away we went. We chitchatted and I told him I was going to Haiti the next day, and he was SO EXCITED, particularly when I told him I was going to Jacmel...because that’s where he was from! He kept saying over and over, ‘oh, you are going to have a great trip..it will be just what you need!’. 

When we got to my destination, he grabbed these two giant heavy bags of clothes and basically levitated them up the stairs to the front door of the house I was dropping them off at. Big grin and superhuman strength, and I knew Kouzen (who comes from Jacmel and wears denim and blue and plaid) had come to rescue me. 

That’s what I’ve got!

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

Chapter 10: Is this the real life?

“Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,

Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore

Which all the woe of the universe insacks.

Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many

New toils and sufferings as I beheld?

And why doth our transgression waste us so?”

      You know when you’re sick and everything feels terrible? Like, you move slower and you feel weak, and you just want to sleep but can’t? That’s how Pam felt. There were gaps where should couldn’t tell her dreams from facts, but these days the two often mixed. She remembered G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. throwing them into a particularly jarring world jump. She remembered a sky flashing green and red with a cruel wind howling around her. She remembered the Corridor, two badly wounded men helping her limp through a white doorway. She remembered fire and blood and a darkness that blotted out time.

 ***

     G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. removed the back of his hand from Pam’s forehead. Her fever was finally breaking. It was nearing the end of their second day in this new world, and he’d feared being trapped for weeks. However, Pam healed much faster than any organism in Skyrim. If I’ve got 9 lives, she surely has 90. The most pressing issue was the matter of their other companion. The cat strode to another bed where Christopher slept fitfully. While their hosts had been very kind in providing any supplies G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. needed, Chris wasn’t responding to treatment. Though the fight with Trash Hulk ended up being short, it exposed the reality of The Pebble’s strength. He’d cracked a shoulder blade and suffered trauma to the skull that might prove more serious in time. In his own world, he had difficulty competing with human wrestlers. In a multiverse full of monsters and reality-altering evil henchmen, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. feared he wouldn’t last long in any violent confrontation. He softly placed his paw against Chris’ neck. His pulse was thready but consistent. Better than yesterday. They’d have to be satisfied with gradual improvement. The Pebble unconsciously nuzzled into G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s fur and he let his paw linger a moment more before heading downstairs.

     He’d been lucky. When they crossed the Corridor into the next plane, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s main worry was finding shelter. Inexplicably, shelter found them in the form of the dimension’s ruler. His official function was mayor of second life although he referred to himself as Boy Mayor. Allegedly this stout child built the entire universe called “Second Life.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had trouble believing a contorted copy of Augustus Gloop could shape a world, but cyber-beggars can’t be choosers. At all hours the self-appointed mayor was accompanied by a man named Totinos, a lanky, elastic caricature of humanity who smelled like fresh pizza and wore leggings to match. Not that G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was judging or anything.

     The khajiit found the pair hanging out in the backyard pool. Boy Mayor hovered facedown above the slide like a penguin that suddenly became untethered from gravity and was loving every minute. Totinos was content to ride a large cat through the flower garden. Though he winced at a fellow feline being used in so undignified a matter, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. sauntered over to Totinos. “Say, does he always just float like that?”

           “Not usually,” he responded in a mellow and zesty tone. “But, you know. Campaigning’s really stressful.” They watched silently as the mayor zipped down the slide and plunged into the pool’s depths. His unusually round bottom made him quite buoyant, and the little politician resurfaced with ease.

           “Campaigning, you say?”

           “Oh yeah, we’ve really been hitting it hard the past few weeks,” Totinos explained. “Duran Duran’s been picking up in the polls, so we had to get boots-on-the-ground in Southern Country. The Mayor’s base of monsters is rock-solid, but he’s been taking a lot of flak from the surprising amount of perverts who want to keep the sex clubs running.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. nodded and tried very hard to look interested in a breakdown of the platform, but was a bit worried these people might be absolutely fucking mad. He was spared an argument about over dog suffrage by the Boy Mayor, still trying to towel off a sopping wet tuxedo.

           “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., good morning!” chimed the exuberant mayor. His voice sounded like a Muppet with its nose pushed inside its face, possibly in a slow, violent fashion. Nonetheless, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt somewhat comforted by this man-child. “How are your friends feeling today? I can whip up some noodles and tea if they’re in the mood?” The questions’ sincerity forced the khajiit to grin.

           “They still need a lot of rest. I expect Pam will be up tomorrow morning, but I’m not sure about Christopher,” he confessed, trying not to let fear darken his face. He stiffened his upper lip and changed the topic. “At any rate, can’t say what a pleasure it is to stay at the Mayor’s residence. Truly a magnificent home.”

           “Oh no, we’re just renting,” the Mayor said cheerfully. “Jim and Cassie are off to Horse Island for the week, so we swooped in. Sort of an AirBnB thing.” He offered G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. a pool noodle. “Want to take a dip? I just find a cool swim so refreshing.”

           “No thanks, I’m a cat.”

           The Mayor had already waddled over to Totinos. “Daaaarling?” he shouted at unnecessary volume, “Put some pepperoni rolls in the microwave won’t you?”

           Totinos knelt down, cupped the politician’s face and nuzzled a bulbous nose against his head. “Of course. Flavor blasted?”

           “Always.”

           The tall chef stalked off toward the kitchen. The Mayor sighed loudly before shuffling back to G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., who now sat in a poolside chair. “Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave, am I right?”

           The robot just sort of stared at the sunlight at the bottom of the pool, hoping he would not be pressed about Totinos’ fine arse. The Mayor continued beaming until G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. made another conversation change. “With all due respect Mr. Mayor, how come you have to run for reelection? Aren’t you a god of some sort? Yesterday you claimed to have made all of Second Life.” As soon as he said “reelection” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. immediately regretted it. The Mayor’s smile continued, but his boyish energy evaporated. Wrinkles and frown lines G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hadn’t previously noticed seemed to wear into his face, as if watching a stream erode a proud mountain in seconds, quickly etching cracks and ledges into its stone surface leaving it weathered and beaten but no less majestic.

           He uttered a small chuckle. “Ha, you’re a sharp one. That’s a fair question, and in my defense, I wasn’t lying.” He pulled up a pool chair and turned it around, facing G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and resting crossed arms on the chair’s back. “I made Second Life a long time ago. It was really quite fun. I built servers and cities and little zones for everyone with their own individual desires could meet other friends. A sort of escape from the mundanity of the worlds they knew before.” He grinned mischievously. “I even decreed that everyone could fly! Why not?” The whimsy in his voice was heartbreakingly genuine. “But uh…things changed. Maybe it was my fault.” He frowned into the distance, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s presence forgotten. “Maybe it was what was happening in their first lives that drove them to change. They just… weren’t much fun anymore.” His eyes glazed over. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had no desire to disturb the mayor, so the two sat in uncomfortable silence which was mercifully broken by Totinos’ returning with pizza rolls. The chef could tell the conversation had shifted to politics, and tried to lighten the mood by feeding his partner several handfuls of rolls. The gesture was appreciated by all, but as the day wore on, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that accompanies reminding a good friend about encroaching deadlines.

 ***

           She ran for a long time. She knew she had to keep running or something would find and catch her, so she followed this gravel path drenched in blood. When Pam finally ran out of breath, she collapsed and turned to face her pursuant. She shakily stood to face her enemy, which drew ever closer until Pam could make out the shape of an enormous creature, a snake with nine heads. She charged at the monster, crushing four snarling maws before the other five overtook her. Four remaining heads grappled her limbs while the fifth gazed at her with pity. As the fifth lurched ahead to bite, the head surging to bite was her own.

           Pam woke with a start. Her sheets were drenched with sweat, a function she didn’t remember having. The bed was unfamiliar. She racked her brains for an explanation. It seemed likely G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. pulled them out before they all died. She clenched her fist. Trash Hulk can go fuck self. Her ex sold himself out to Todd in exchange for power never before seen in her universe. Unacceptable. There must be a way to gather the powers of other worlds. Todd might have flushed her out of hiding, but no longer. She would find the strongest warriors of whatever plane they might discover and return when she knew she was ready. Pam gathered her energy and remembered her old strength. I am still Pam.

           Christopher coughed loudly in the next bed, shaking Pam from her monologing. She pulled off her blanket and walked over. He looked a lot worse than she’d ever seen before. Pam put the back of her hand to the wrestler’s forehead. Feverish. Within moments Chris ceased shivering and opened his eyes.

           “P-Pam?”

           “Yes muscle-boy, is me. Let’s go find cat.”

           Chris smiled. “Hell yeah.”

[tayegi]

Lake of Fire Pt. 2 (m)

Sequel to In Bloom and Lake of Fire Pt. 1

Warning: Graphic wolf!Jungkook smut

Word Count: 12,457

Dedicated to the misogynists who tried to ruin my passion for this series. Couldn’t have done it without y’all :) 

The next few Tuesdays pass in rapid succession.

The very next day after the accident with Jungkook on the full moon, Jiho breaks up with you. He simply goes up to you at your desk the next morning and tells you that you should break up. It’s so blunt that you almost feel offended. Like the last few months didn’t exist. But for some strange reason, you can’t bring yourself to feel one ounce of indignation, and you accept with a simple nod of your head. And when Jiho storms off, strangely furious, you realize that he had been expecting you to grovel for his forgiveness. That your reaction wasn’t what he had expected at all.

And that’s when you realize that you desperately need a change of scenery. So you go to your boss’s office directly after work and beg for a transfer to a different branch. She’s hesitant at first, utterly dumbfounded over the fact that anyone would want to return to Busan after a high ranking position in Seoul. But she has no choice but to grant your request when you make up a heartbreaking story about ill relatives.

So nearly a decade after your move to the big city as a naïve little teenager, you find yourself moving back to your hometown.

Your parents are utterly bewildered when they find their fully-grown, adult daughter on their doorstep that weekend with just a suitcase in hand. They’re worried at first, but when they begin to piece together the details of your breakup, they decide not to ask any questions. Your father mutters under his breath about your overreaction as he leads you to your childhood bedroom, but of course, he doesn’t know the specifics of Jungkook’s role in the breakup. And you don’t correct him.

The phone calls and texts from the wolf boy decrease in frequency as time passes, but they never cease entirely. He still has his Tuesdays, after all. But you’ve learned to delete the messages without looking at them.

You already know that he loves you. You are reminded every time you look in the mirror and see that ghastly puckered scar on the base of your neck.

Twenty-five Tuesdays later, you arrive home from work to find your mother outside, working in the small vegetable patch in the backyard. You quickly run upstairs to change, stopping briefly to greet your father in the kitchen, before rushing outdoors to meet her.

It’s August, and even this late in the afternoon, the sun scorches your bare skin. So you grab a wide-brimmed gardening hat out of the shed before joining your mother at the garden.

She smiles at the sight of you, “How was work, honey?”

You shrug, more interested in the rows of squash plants, “Fine. Boring as usual.”

“The Busan branch of your company is pretty tiny, huh?”

“Yeah… They have nothing for me to do. I work for an hour, then surf the internet for the rest of the day... This job’s a joke.”

“It seems like your work in Seoul was more fulfilling,” Your mother carefully comments as she tugs a weed from the soil.

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh come on, Mom. Not this again…”

“Your father and I just don’t really understand why you would give up such a nice job.”

“I didn’t give it up,” you correct her, “It’s still waiting for me when I get back.”

“Alright… It just doesn’t seem like you to do all of this just because of a boy. We thought you were a bit tougher than that.”

You pause in the process of examining a leafy green plant, hurt by her comment, “If you want me out of the house, I’ll leave. I’ll go apartment hunting in the morning.”

“Oh, don’t do that, sweetie. Of course you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like. It’s nice to have you back… We just don’t like the reasons why you’re back.”

You have no response for that. Your mother’s right, after all. Hiding from a man after a breakup… it’s a cowardly act. It’s not like you at all.

But at that moment, your phone rings, alerting you of a phone call. You take one look at Jungkook’s name flashing across the screen, and reject the call without hesitation. And here’s the real reason why you’re hiding in Busan.

“Shouldn’t you take the call?” Your mother asks, confused by your brusque response.

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“Who was it?”

“No one important.”

“Who?”

“… Jungkook,” you finally admit.

“Ah, Jeon Jungkookie?” the older woman repeats, her entire face lighting up in delight at the mention of his name, “Aish, I was supposed to have lunch with his mother last week, but something came up! How is that boy?”

You wince at the mention of the wolf boy, “He’s… he’s fine.”

“I haven’t seen him in months!” Your mother exclaims, oblivious to your distress, “Maybe I should invite him over for a weekend.”

“Mom!” You cry out, “That is not a good idea!”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “What’s wrong? The two of you were inseparable as kids! Did anything happen?”

“No. That’s not it,” you quickly lie.

“Then what is it? Is it the fact that you’re both adults now? You don’t want to ruin your reputation for future suitors by spending so much time with such a handsome young man, huh?” she teases.

“Mom!”

“Don’t worry, I have an easy solution for you,” she continues, undeterred, “Just marry him! You’ll save your reputation and make him happy all at once!”

Your stomach drops. She’s just teasing… But her words are surprisingly insightful, “Stop it,” you mutter, dropping your gaze to fixate on a stubborn dandelion weed, “We’re just friends.”

“Sure you are,” your mother laughs, but your glare shuts her up, “Ok, ok. I’ll stop teasing you, sweetie. Though you really should invite Jungkook over for a visit.”

You say nothing, turning your attention back on weeding the vegetable patch again.

However, at that very moment, your father shatters the brief moment of peace by sticking his head out the screen door and yelling, “What are you guys saying about my future son-in-law?!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands.

On the twenty-sixth Tuesday, you receive a bouquet of roses from Jungkook on your front doorstep. You hurriedly pull off the card and leave them in front of your neighbor’s house before your parents can notice. On the twenty-seventh, you receive an enormous teddy bear that goes directly into the toy drive donation box at work. And so it continues until the thirtieth Tuesday, when your parents miraculously intercept the fruit basket that arrives a few hours late.

You walk through the front door to find the two of them enjoying fresh pears at the kitchen island and your heart drops. “Mom!” You exclaim in horror, “Dad! Where the heck did you get that from?!”

“It’s from Jungkook,” your father explains as he pops a grape into his mouth, “What a thoughtful kid.”

“Yah, you lied to us, ____!” your mother grumbles, “I knew you were dating! Why didn’t you admit to it?”

“We’re not!” You screech, rushing over to grab the elaborate basket from the counter, “Stop eating that!”

“Ah, don’t be selfish and share with your poor parents,” your father complains loudly, “Jungkook would want his in-laws to eat well.”

“Stop saying that!” Your ears have turned bright red at this point, and you slap both hands over them in shame, “We’re not dating and we never will.”

“Why not?” your mother bemoans, “It’s clear that he likes you, ____. And he’s such an excellent match: handsome, good job, good family. What else could you possibly ask for?!”

“Just date him,” your father adds, hastily wrestling back the fruit basket so he can shove another grape in his mouth, “You’re getting to that age, anyways.”

“Yeah. And it’s not like you can do any better.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach, “W-what?”

Your mother simply rolls her eyes, “I’m surprised that Jungkookie even likes you. He’s so handsome and successful and you’re so…” she clears her throat loudly, “You should just jump on this opportunity before he changes his mind.”

She’s not serious. You know this. Your mother just has a caustic way of talking and she doesn’t mean it. But you can’t help the pain that explodes across your system like a punch to the gut. You swallow tightly and shake your head, “N-no. It’s more complicated than that, mom.”

But she snorts, “I don’t see why you young people need to make things so dramatic. You’re too old to be playing around anymore. Stop messing around and accept Jungkook already. You’re hurting his feelings!”

You bite down on your bottom lip, “Is that all a daughter is good for?”

Your parents look up at that, surprised that you’ve dared talk back to them, “What did you say?”

You lower your eyes to the ground, “I just… I don’t think you’d be saying this to me if I was a man instead.”

They gape at you with their jaws dropped to the ground, unable to process this unexpected outburst from you, but by then, you’ve already walked away.

Later that night, guilt fills your stomach as you recall your immature outburst. How could you have reacted that way, at your age? You’re not a whiny little high schooler anymore, but a mature, adult woman. You should’ve just kept your thoughts to yourself and meekly agreed with whatever your parents were saying, even if they were wrong.

But as it is, your parents weren’t exactly wrong. You do have strong feelings for Jungkook. These feelings haven’t always been romantic, but they’ve always been there. There’s no doubt about that. So what’s stopping you?

You can’t express it in words, but there is something weighing you down, turning your stomach at the very idea of a relationship with the wolf boy. You’ve always thought that it was because you were afraid of ruining your friendship with your best friend. Relationships never last and you refuse to ruin the one good thing you have in your life with messy feelings. But could it be that you’ve just been lying to yourself?

Your mother is wrong, at least. That much you know for sure. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having some fun in your youth, and you resent any hint of slut-shaming, but this is not the reason you’d reject Jungkook. It’s much too petty for someone you care as your second half.

So why are you running away from him? What are you so afraid of?

You flip over in bed and pull the covers over your head, as though you can hide from your painful thoughts.

On the thirty-seventh Tuesday, you find your resilience rapidly melting away. Your mother had asked you to clean out your closet for the clothing drive, but after picking apart your old things for a few hours, you stumble upon a box of old trinkets from grade school. And you’re not surprised to find that most of it is saved memorabilia from times spent with Jungkook.

There are countless birthday cards, ticket stubs, and little bits of cheap, broken jewelry that haven’t stood the test of time. There’s that lopsided teddy bear Jungkook won for you at the seventh grade fair. There’s that now-unsticky sticky hand that Jungkook used to torment you with in fourth grade. There’s that coaster imprinted with the logo of the bar the two of you had your very first drink in the moment you came of age. There have been so many memories shared by the two of you that you can’t untangle him from your past. The two of you had been inseparable, like two halves of the same whole.

It’s been months since you’ve last spoken to him. Months. In the past, you’d be lucky to endure with the silent treatment for over a day… You miss him.

You feel empty without him in your life, as though your barren chest is missing its heart.

You’re still not sure how you feel about him and the whole mate situation, but one thing is clear and that is you can’t live without him. You need to go to Seoul.

You stand outside Jungkook’s apartment on the thirty-eighth Tuesday, hand poised to rap on the door, then you freeze. Your heart is pounding in your chest so hard that you’re afraid that he can hear you even through the thick walls. Sweat has collected at your temples and under your nose, and your knees won’t stop wobbling. You’re so nervous that you could die.

Your hand trembles like a leave in the wind, but somehow, you muster the courage to lower your fist to the wood. It’s a soft knock, barely audible to even your ears, but you know his sharp wolf senses can easily pick it up. Struggling to swallow the knot in your throat, you step back and wait.

No more than thirty seconds could have passed, but it feels like a lifetime before the door swings open. And then you’re faced with Jeon Jungkook for the first time in over four months.

His hair is longer than you remember, dark strands running into his eyes, and he’s not as clean-shaven as he usually is, stubble running from the bottom of his face down to his neck, but the handsome covered by the hair is still the same. And sharp brown eyes fixate on you so intensely that you can’t help but drop your gaze.

You drink in his simple outfit of sweats and a loose t-shirt instead, trying to collect your thoughts as the tense silence drags. But the familiar outfit reminds you of that fateful night last February when everything changed and you can’t breathe again.

You don’t know how long you stand outside, quivering on his front door step, but when a particularly vicious gust of wind threatens to knock you over, Jungkook quickly jumps to action, “Come in.”

A shiver travels the length of your spine at the sound of his voice for the first time in so long. You nod your head then meekly follow him inside. Jungkook stops you in the living room and gestures for you to take a seat.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asks, but the breathless, rushed quality of his voice reveals that it’s just for politeness’ sake. He’s much too impatient for that.

You nervously shake your head, “No, I’m fine.”

Jungkook nods and doesn’t say anything for a moment, his teeth sinking deeply into his bottom lip. You try to stare forward to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but you can’t help but notice the way his hands twitch in his lap. He hasn’t said anything but formalities, but you can tell that he’s dying to touch you. Even after all this time, it’s evident that his feelings have not changed one bit.

“D-did you,” his voice cracks and he has to clear his throat before trying again, “Did you get my gifts?”

You awkwardly nod your head, “Yes… They were nice, but very unnecessary.”

“I understand… I’m just glad you liked them.”

You can feel the excitement radiating off of him from where he sits next to you on the couch. You can hear his harsh breathing and the restless shaking of his legs. He’s basically vibrating. Suddenly, you’re brought back to those three long days when he was chained up from head to toe in the same bedroom mere yards from where you now sit. The way he had looked at you, straining against his binds and begging you for relief… The way he had emanated pure need and desire… It’s the same energy you’re feeling right now.

It’s contagious. You feel light-headed and murky, like cotton’s been stuffed in your skull. You want nothing more than to touch him, run your fingers through his long hair and scrape your nails against his scratchy beard. You want to kiss him so badly. But you know better than to simply jump in bed with him again. That’s what got you in trouble in the first place.

“We need to talk.”

He eagerly bobs his head up and down in agreement, “Yes,” he breathes, “We do.”

You bite down on your bottom lip as you mull over your next words. This whole situation is unbelievably tense and embarrassing. It takes you a considerable amount to muster the courage to voice your next words. But finally—

“I’ve missed you.”

He heaves an exhale, and like a dam bursting, his emotions come flooding out all at once, “I’ve missed you, too, ____. I’ve missed you so damn much, you have no idea. It hurt, ____-ah. It hurt so fucking much being away from you.” He lunges forward as though to embrace you, but you’re so surprised by his sudden action that you flinch away, so he settles for grasping your hand in both of his and ardently pressing his lips to the palm.

“Ah, Jungkook I—”

“But it’s okay,” he hastily interrupts, “I forgive you. Even though I was in so much pain that I thought I would die, I forgive you. At least now you’ve finally come to your senses,” he says, moving forward again.

“Wait, what?” you exclaim, holding up your arms to shield your face when it finally occurs to you that he keeps trying to kiss you.

Jungkook whines in protest and tightens his grip on your hand, “I love you,” he blurts out, heaving the statement out like a drowning man gasps for air, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Hearing those words in person after so long makes your heart flipflop. You stare down at the way his hand clutches yours so hard that his knuckles turn white. But his grip is too tight and you feel suffocated.

“And now you’re finally mine,” he whispers before lurching forward again.

You fall back against the couch in surprise, shoving a hand against his mouth just in time to ward off his unwarranted kisses, “Stop it, Jungkook!” you cry out, lying flat against the cushions and twisting your head to the side.

He falls motionless at that, bewildered by your reaction, “What’s wrong, baby?” he groans, pressing his mouth against the back of your hand instead, “I missed you so much. You have no idea how much it hurt being away from you. But it’s okay. Because you’ve finally come to me.”

“Wait, Jungkook, I think you’re misunderstanding!” You exclaim, yanking your hand out of his grip and scrambling back on the couch to gain a bit of much-needed distance between the two of you.

He pauses to stare at you through hooded lids, “_____... Don’t do this… Just admit that you love me too.”

“But I…” you nervously wring your hands together in your lap, “I’m not sure if I do…”

His eyes darken, “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me? What I’ve been through for the four goddamn months?”

You swallow tightly, terrified by the pitch black of his gaze, “J-jungkook—”

“I felt like I was going to die, ____. All because you were too damn stubborn to admit to your feelings,” he growls, eyes flashing red at this point. For a moment, you’re afraid that he might transform, “Seriously, grow up and stop this bullshit.”

It feels like a slap in the face. You’ve had your fair share of arguments with Jungkook over the years, but none like this. Never has he been so downright cruel with you. “Jungkook, I’m not lying, I swear. I really don’t know how I feel.”

His eyes narrow to slits, “You are my mate,” he snarls, enunciating each word with such fury that fear trickles down your spine, “You belong to me. Now stop acting like such a bitch and accept it.”

It’s stiflingly silent in the room for a long second. So quiet that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

“What?”

All of Jungkook’s anger dissipates from him at once, like the deflation of a balloon, “I… I didn’t mean that, ____.”

But it’s too late. “So I’m a bitch, huh? Just because I rejected your ass?”

The color blanches from his face, “No, that’s not—”

You interrupt him with a snort of derision, “I guess any woman who rejects a man is just a bitch then, huh? Because we’re just objects for you to possess?”

He looks agonized by your words, “Come on, ____,” he murmurs, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“So what do you mean?” you shoot back in a cool tone, “Do I not belong to you, then? Can I choose not to be your mate?”

He hesitates at that, “Well, no, but—”

“So I have no choice in this situation? No freedom at all?” You let out a humorless bark of laughter as you rise to your full height, “I’m just your little sex slave now?”

“___, you don’t understand,” he says, irritated, “Yes, you are my mate, but I’m not forcing you into anything. You want me, too. I know you do.”

You stare at him from under hooded lids, considering him for a long time. The silence stretches on and on until all oxygen is squeezed from the room. Finally—

“I don’t think you understand, Jungkook. I. Belong. To. Nobody.”

And with that, you turn sharply on your heel to march out of the room.

“Wait!” Jungkook calls after you in alarm, “____, come on! Just wait a second!”

But you’ve already walked straight out the door without a second glance.

You spend the thirty-ninth Tuesday curled up in bed, hiding under your blankets and crying your eyes out as your phone rings and rings nonstop until you finally muster the strength to get up and block Jungkook’s number. But then he starts calling the house phone instead. When your parents get home that night, they’re confused to find you covered in tears with all the landlines disconnected and lying in a pile at your feet.

But then the fortieth Tuesday comes along, and Jungkook decides to take the initiative to show up at your house. After a long day at work, you walk through the front door to find him cozied up on the couch with your parents. They’re so engrossed in their conversation, your mother too busy laughing her face off at Jungkook’s jokes and squeezing his arm, that none of them notice your presence until you drop your bag to the ground with a loud thud.

Then, there are three pairs of eyes on you, two of them confused, and one chagrined.

“Oh, ____, sweetie. There you are!”

“Look who’s come to visit us! Isn’t Jungkookie the best?” Your father beams, clapping a heavy hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

You don’t say anything for a minute, anger simmering under the surface of your composed exterior as you stare the younger man down. He at least has the audacity to look guilty as he stares back.

“Jungkook… I need to speak to you outside.”

He nods and instantly jumps to his feet, “Sorry Mr. and Mrs. ____. We’ll catch up some other time.”

But your parents just laugh him off, “No, go have fun, you crazy kids.”

“She has no curfew!” Your mother calls out from the couch, “Bring her back anytime… Actually… don’t bring her back at all!”

“You can keep her!” Your father adds, and the two of them crack up at their own lame jokes.

You cringe and quickly grab Jungkook’s sleeve so you can drag him out the door without wasting anymore time. As soon as the front door bangs shut, you whirl around to face him, “What the hell, Jeon?”

He smiles wryly at your sudden burst of temper, “I’m guessing you don’t want to grab dinner then?”

“Stop joking around, kid. Why the hell are you here?”

He lowers his head to stare you straight in the eye, “I missed you, ___.”

He’s standing so close to you that you can feel the warmth from his supernaturally heated body passing through your clothes on the cold, wintery night. You shiver and cross your arms across your chest, refusing to allow him to affect you, “Is that all you’re here to say?”

He sighs deeply, disappointed, but not exactly surprised by your cold reaction, “I also wanted to apologize… I shouldn’t have called you a bitch. That was truly vile of me and if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat.”

You purse your lips, slightly swayed by his sincere apology, but not entirely convinced. “You’re missing the point, Jungkook. That’s not what I’m really upset about.”

He winces, “Yeah, I know… But it’s just the wolf instincts that are making me act this way, ___. You’ve gotta believe me! Every fiber of my mind is screaming at me to possess you… to make you my bi—” He stops, mid-word, before he can make another mistake. The wolf boy flushes in embarrassment at his near-slip, “I mean, they’re just urging me to claim my mate… And I know it’s primitive and sexist. I know it’s not fair to you…”

With each passing second, you find yourself softening to his words. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s finally understanding the error of his ways…

“And that’s why I want to make it even between us, ____,” he says, finally mustering the courage to reach out to grab your hand. You’re startled by the electricity that jumps through your veins at that simple touch. “I love you, ___. If you belong to me, then I belong to you as well. ____-ah, you have to know that you’ve owned every piece of me, body and soul, for years. I’m all yours.”

You flinch back at his unexpectedly passionate confession, “Jungkook… No. That’s not what I mean. I—”

“I’ve marked you,” he says, sorrowfully snaking his hand up your shoulder to stroke the marred flesh of your throat, “And I get it now. It’s so unfair… Which is why you need to mark me, too.”

Your eyes pop open in bewilderment, utterly taken aback, “What?! Jungkook—”

But suddenly he whips out a small knife from his pocket, making you jump back with a shriek of surprise, “Mark me, ___,” he begs, pressing the handle to your palm, “This blade is made out of silver—it’s the only thing that could obstruct my wolf healing abilities… So mark me, ___. Make me yours.”

“What? Jungkook, this is crazy talk! I’m not going to slice you up!” You exclaim, horrified by the very idea.

“Why not?” he counters, “It’s what I deserve… I hurt you, ____,” he says, ruefully sliding his fingers over the immutable scar on your neck, “Please mark me, ____,” he begs, “So that everyone will know that I belong to you.”

The silver knife weighs heavy in your hand. You stare up into his handsome face, taking in how his teeth grit and his brown doe eyes silently beg you to agree. You reach up to carefully cup his cheek with one hand. Jungkook reacts at once, pressing into your palm like he’s starved for contact. Your chest constricts at that simple action. He’s so beautiful that it hurts.

Somehow, somehow, you manage to look him in the eye and then whisper, “No.”

His subsequent devastation is visceral, sinking down to your very bones. “___-ah,” he murmurs your name, “I don’t know what you want from me anymore… Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, I swear!”

The desperation in his tone makes your heart hurt, “You’re missing the point,” you quietly inform him, “I don’t belong to you and you don’t belong to me either. I don’t want to own you. You are a human being to me, Jungkook. Not a fucking possession.”

He gasps in surprise, his eyes so huge, they look on the verge of popping from his skull, “____-ah, I didn’t mean that… I—”

You regrettably slip your hand out of his grip, “I think you should go home, Jungkook. It’s a long trip, after all.”

“Wait, ____!” he says, rushing after you when you make to walk back inside.

You pause at the doorstep, then turn to look him in the eye, “Oh and don’t ever come here unannounced again.”

Shock spreads across his expression, “I-I didn’t mean to—”

But you’ve already shut the door in his face.

The next three months sludge by in a monotonous muck of drab grays. Jungkook doesn’t call you on Tuesdays anymore. Or if he does, you have no idea, for you have long since blocked his number on every device in the house. He might be contacting you on social media, but you haven’t logged on to check for half a year.

Instead, you fully engross yourself in your work. You leave the house every morning before your parents rise and come back only when the moon is high in the sky. But on weekends, you don’t leave the house at all, and come out only for meals. Within weeks, your parents catch onto your strange behavior, but no amount of prodding or pleading will get you to confess what’s wrong. Your mother assumes that it’s heartbreak… And she’s not exactly wrong.

You’re withering away like this, slowly wasting your youth until the fiftieth Tuesday since that faithful night that turned your world upside down comes along. And then everything goes to hell.

Fifty Tuesdays later, you wake up in your bed at the crack of dawn, bewildered by your pounding heart and the sweat slicking the entire length of your body. Did you have another nightmare? What the hell is going on?

You twist in your tangled sheets to glance at your clock and are dismayed to find that it’s barely five in the morning. Your alarm isn’t set to go off for another two hours. What a waste of sleep that you desperately need. Dismayed, you flop over on your side with a deep huff. But this brings you into the same line of vision as your nightstand… and the shiny silver blade lying so innocently on top of it. Your throat tightens.

You haven’t touched the knife since you slammed it on the table during a fit of anger after that disastrous encounter with Jungkook on your front porch all those months ago… You remember the way he had looked at you, jaw clenched in pain and eyes burning as he silently begged you to accept him. You remember the cool feeling of the blade in your hand and the way his fingers felt sliding against the sensitive mark just above your collarbones.

Suddenly, a burst of heat explodes across your belly, causing you to automatically slam a hand down on your crotch. This doesn’t nothing to tamper the heat, but the pressure of your hand feels so good that you can’t help but add more, along with a little flick of your wrist that makes you throw your head back and gasp aloud.

You have no idea why you’re so horny at such an ungodly hour, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you know is that you need relief and soon or else you might explode. Within seconds, you find yourself lying there in the dark with your hands down your pants, rubbing one out like your life depends on it.

It’s so strange and frantic and messy. But you’re occasionally bombarded with hormones, and you don’t think much of it… until it becomes evident that the uncharacteristic lust is never going to dissipate.

Every single day for the next goddamn week, you wake up with your insides threatening to eat you up with lust. It’s almost a reflex at this point to slam both hands down your pajamas before you even fully wake up. This is usually enough to satisfy you for a few hours until you can make it home from work and spend the rest of the night with your vibrator…

But then it gets worse and worse.

Soon, you can’t even get out of bed without relieving yourself twice, and it’s almost torture trying to get through the work day. You find yourself spending your lunch break locked up in a bathroom stall with your underwear around your ankles, and you break multiple traffic laws trying to rush home fast enough to masturbate again.

This is worrisome in of itself. But what’s even more concerning is the fact that you can’t get yourself to cum unless you think of Jungkook…

It’s so messed up. It’s beyond unhealthy to lie in bed and think of your former best friend as you writhe around with your vibrator each night. But you’re so desperate for relief that you don’t care. You gladly embrace your spank bank of memories from the meager twelve hours you spent in his bed that one fateful night. And it never fails to get you off.

On the fifty-first Tuesday, you cave and make a Tinder. You have nothing against dating apps, and have used them quite extensively in the past, but making one in your hometown where you’re bound to run into old classmates at any given moment is a new level of desperation. Especially since you’d only be using them for sex. But fuck it. You don’t care anymore. You’d do anything—anything for a warm body to fill up the gaping hole in the pit of your stomach. You’re fucking delirious.

It takes an hour for you to set up a profile. Another hour, and you’ve swiped right on almost every man or woman under the age of 45 in a ten-mile radius. When you wake up in the morning, you’re pleasantly surprised by the number of matches you’ve received… or perhaps it’s not so surprising, given that you’ve liked almost everyone. Then you set off messaging all of your matches, determined to find someone to sate your urges by tonight.

It’s not as easy as you think. Clearly no one’s looking to hook up on a Wednesday night, and no one takes your messages seriously. You can barely pay attention during work all day, sending messaging under your desk and practically begging people to meet up. This makes most of your matches tense up at once, some of them going as far as blocking you. Finally, you find a guy who seems interested and just as horny as you are—well, not quite, because that would be impossible, but he does seem to respond well when you send him a picture of your legs in your pencil skirt.

This is reckless, and quite possibly dangerous, but the ache in your core makes it impossible to care as you anxiously send him details for your meetup in the evening, but before you can finalize details, the app dings to notify you of a new match. You’re about to impatiently brush it away, but the tiny icon of the young man in the photo catches your attention.

Curious, you click open his profile. He’s cute. Just as cute as the guy you’ve been texting all day, but there’s something about the way his dark hair falls in his eyes that catches your attention. Your interest has been officially piqued, so you abandon your conversation with the current guy to talk to this new match instead…

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. The first guy had just agreed to meet you at the bar tonight. And now you’re abandoning all your hard labor for the slim chance with a new one. You stare at the curve of his smile in his profile picture as you impatiently wait for his response. There’s just something about him…

It takes two full days of hard work, but you finally manage to convince the dark haired guy on Tinder to meet up with you that Friday night. His name is Kim Yugyeom and he’s the same age as you. He’s been dancing since elementary school, and it definitely shows in the way his thighs fill out the leather of his pants. But what interests you more is the strangely familiar curve of his nose and the precise way his lips twist up when he smiles. God, it’s taking everything in your power to keep from jumping across the bar to mount him.

“____-ah, are you okay?” He asks, concerned when your eyes glaze over for the hundredth time that night.

You hurriedly nod your head, “Y-yes, of course.” You lick your dry lips and press your thighs together, as though to stifle the insatiable fire between your legs.

Yugyeom frowns, "You seem a bit off, ___. Are you sick, maybe? Feverish?"

You want to laugh at his concern in his voice. He's not wrong, necessarily. You're so feverish that you think you could die from the heat, "No," you quickly deny, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He presses on, brow furrowing deeper, "Your face is really red and you're sweating pretty badly... If you're feeling unwell, that's ok. Maybe we can just postpone this?"

"No!" You practically yell, lunging forward to grab his sleeve. If he leaves now, then it'll take forever to reschedule your date-- if he doesn't bail on you entirely, that is. No, you can't let him leave. You need him. Now.

Realizing how crazy you must look, you instantly drop your grip on his sleeve and nervously run a hand through your tousled hair, "Yugyeom... I'm going to blunt here... And I don't care if this doesn't make me seem ladylike or whatever bullshit," you pause to chug the rest of your glass of bitter alcohol for strength. Then you slam the glass on the table and turn to stare him straight in the eye, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

He is so taken back by your unexpected proposition that he chokes on his drink, "Wh-what?" he gasps, dropping his glass on the counter when his hand shakes hard enough to shatter it. "Excuse me?"

You reach across the table to knock back the rest of his drink as well, "I'm just asking you a question, Yugyeom. Please be honest with me: Do you want to have sex with me or not?"

He stares at you for a few seconds with his jaw hanging. Your anxiety twists in your chest. You're about to jump across the table to make it harder for him to resist, but at that moment, he finally responds, "Y-yes," he splutters out, "I mean, look at you. Of course I do."

Your ego inflates under this flattering words. You smile nicely at him, then reach over to offer him your hand, "Where did you park your car?"

It takes forever for the two of you to make it to his apartment. Mostly because you can't stop fondling him the entire car ride there, mouthing at his neck and rubbing him to a full erection right there in the passenger seat, despite his half-hearted protests.

He feels so good and thick under your palm that you almost lose your mind. Forgetting about the busy traffic and the danger of the situation, you try to launch out of your seat to mount him, then and there. Luckily, he holds you down with a firm hand on your hip and you somehow manage to keep your wits about you until you arrive at his apartment ten minutes later.

You're the definition of the term "hot mess" as you hastily throw your coat on the ground and kick off your shoes the moment he unlocks the door. Yugyeom catches your shaky hands with a laugh when you move to pull your dress straight over your head.

"Whoa, what's the rush, baby?"

You jerk your head up to look at him and your mouth dries. In the darkness of his apartment, he looks even better than he did in the bar. His midnight black hair creates such perfect shadows across his milky skin that your hands snap up to touch him with a mind of their own. He sighs and leans into your touch when you run both hands up his neck to caress the angles of his face. His jaw is so sharp... his skin so soft... but....

You pull your hands away after a second, confused. For some reason, it felt weird. But Yugyeom eagerly chases after your touch, leaning in to wrap both arms around you. His grip on your hips makes you feel uncomfortable for some reason you can't explain. But before you can express your discomfort, Yugyeom suddenly cards a hand through your hair and tugs you in for a kiss.

It feels all wrong. His lips are too rough, his hands too insistent and even the feel of his body pressed against yours is disconcerting. He's too tall. The curve of his jaw is weird and even his musky scent turns you off. Soon, all the heat disappears from the pit of your stomach, leaving you with crippling nausea. You shove him off of you at once, gasping for air.

"What's wrong, ___?" He asks in confusion, gently approaching you again.

You freak out before he can lay a single hand on you and protectively shield your face with both hands, "Don't touch me!" you practically shriek.

Shocked, his hands drop back to his sides at once, "____," he murmurs your name in a quiet voice, "Did I do something wrong...?"

You hastily shake your head, even as you try to collect your disorganized thoughts, "No, I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I need a moment."

Yugyeom awkwardly sticks his hands in his pocket, then moves to stand by the window, "Okay. Take as long as you need."

You press both hands to your chest, trying desperately to recover from the crippling sense of unease. What's wrong with you? You were about to combust from horniness just two minutes ago. And here is a willing partner just within your reach. He's exactly your type too, you think as you rake over his figure illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the open window. He's so tall and broad and undeniably handsome. Almost as handsome as--

Your entire world capsizes in a sickening flip as realization hits you like a wall of cement. The dark hair, the angles of his nose, jaw, and eyes-- fuck even the curve of his smile... It's all similar... But not enough.

He might look like Jeon Jungkook... But he's not him.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, stumbling back in agonized pain.

"___?" startled by your intense reaction, he reaches out as though to steady you before your quivering legs give out.

You scream and drop to the floor the moment his hand makes contact with your skin. It burns. But in the worst way possible. "Don't touch me!" You exclaim again.

"I... I-- are you okay?!"

You angrily shake your head, "No." He looks like he wants to say something more, but at that moment, you take the opportunity to make a run for it, snatching your coat and shoes from the ground, then running for dear life.

"___! ____!"

You can hear him calling after you, but you don't dare look back.

"Namjoon!" You yell into your phone in lieu of a greeting when he picks up on the third ring.

"___?" he asks in surprise, "I haven't heard from you for a while... Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fucking not okay," you growl, "How could you fucking not tell me that this would happen?!"

"What?" he sounds genuinely confused, but you're not fooled by his clueless act.

"Don't you dare play dumb with me right now, Kim Namjoon. You should've fucking warned me about this in advance! Do you know how much pain I'm in right now?!"

"Wait, back up a minute, ___. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you really going to act that way, Namjoon?! Fine! I'll say it: the heat! The fucking heat is killing me!"

"Heat...?" he repeats in surprise, "How did you know that Jungkook is in heat?"

Your stomach twists at the very mention of his name, "Wait... he's in heat too?"

"Too?!" Namjoon exclaims, "____, you're in heat?!"

"Yeah, and you very much fucking knew that already, Kim Namjoon. Why didn't you tell me that this would be a consequence of that fucking bite mark?!"

"Wait... but it's not."

"What? Don't lie to me."

"I'm not... ____, that's seriously not how it works... Even if he's marked you, you shouldn't be going into heat as well. You're not a wolf."

"Are you calling me a fucking liar then?!" you practically yell into the receiver, "I know what I'm feeling! I feel like I'm going to fucking die. No matter how many times I get myself off, it's not enough! I'm going crazy! If this isn't heat, then what the hell is it?!"

"I'm not sure, ___. But as a human, you really shouldn't shouldn't be experiencing heat... Unless--"

"Unless?!"

He hesitates for a moment before responding, "Unless you love him."

"What?!"

"Mating is not a one-way street, ___," he patiently explains, "We can't force you into it. It's consensual. Maybe not always the sex, unfortunately but the emotional aspected and shared connection between mates definitely is. This heat you're experiencing right now... This has nothing to do with the mark on your neck. This is entirely on you."

There's a beat of silence as you try to process his words. Then--

"Holy fucking shit."

Namjoon chuckles humorlessly at your reaction, "Why don't you stop this nonsense and admit your feelings already, ____? You might be able to lie to yourself, but your body doesn't lie. Spare yourself the pain and just accept him as your mate already."

"I'm not a possession," you immediately retort, "I don't belong to him."

The pack leader sighs deeply, "He knows, ____... or at least, the logical side of him knows. But his wolf instincts are more difficult to keep under control... I know it's not fair to you, ___. This whole situation is fucked up. But cut him some slack. He's trying his best."

You purse your lips into a hard line, "Where is he right now?"

You take the first train the next morning out to Seoul. You would've left earlier, but the station closed after midnight, and you have to settle for the earliest, break of dawn train out instead. You don't sleep a wink the entire night and are too impatient bouncing up and down in the deserted train to close your eyes for a second.

Finally the train pulls into the station and you lurch to your feet so quickly, you nearly knock over the elderly woman sitting right next to you. You'd normally stop and apologize, but there's no time for that today. Your groin feels like it might burst from pent up pressure as you grab your bag then sprint out the doors, making the stewardess call after you in alarm.

You ignore them all. You can't even think of anything besides your single goal in mind...

The key to the front door is still hidden under the doormat, as always. It's alarming how little has changed in the past year, when it feels like your whole world has turned upside down. It's so rude to barge into his apartment without invitation. But the ravenous hunger in your belly makes it impossible to care. And knowing Jungkook, he probably wouldn't mind, either.

You slam open the door and let yourself in without preamble. The volume of your rude entrance makes Jimin jump up in surprise from where he sits in the living room. He instantly pauses the show on the TV and rises to his feet, "____?" He asks in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

You brush off his question and drop your bag on the ground, "Jimin, where is he?"

The older man pauses for a moment, taking in your windswept appearance. You're a walking disaster standing there in the middle of the living room, drenched in sweat and panting for oxygen. Then realization hits him like a ton of bricks and his mouth forms a perfect "o" of understanding.

"Jungkook's locked up in his room."

You nod once, "Thanks," and with that, you beeline for the bedroom. You can hear Jimin quietly cursing under his breath about fleeing the scene before it's too late, but you barely give him a second thought. All you can think about is what's waiting for you deeper within the apartment.

Your heart is thundering at this point, thumping so damn hard in the weary confines of your ribcage that you're frightened that you might actually have a premature heart attack. To know that you're just a second away from a chained up Jungkook and his gorgeous cock makes your entire body flush with excess heat. You ignore the uncontrollable trembling of your hands and force the door open with your sweat-slicked palms. Then, you're face to face with the hottest image you have ever laid eyes on in your entire life.

Jungkook sits on his knees on top of the bed, a leather harness crisscrossing over his chest and his hands locked behind his back and his ankles to the bedframe by pure steel chains thicker than your arms. One glance at him and you can tell that he's just as fucked out as you. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and his chest heaves up and down so rapidly, he's on the verge of hyperventilating. But what captures your interest the most is the hard erection straining in his sweatpants... Is it just your imagination, or does it twitch when he catches sight of you...?

"____," he whispers in a croaky voice, entire body stiffening to stone at the sight of you.

You’re equally as affected. For a moment, neither of you can speak. You can’t help but hungrily rake your eyes up and down his tensed figured, and your heart jumps to your throat when you realize that he’s appraising you in the exact same way.

“____,” he groans again, “Thank fucking god.”

You bite your lip at the raw relief in his voice and carefully close the bedroom door behind you. Jimin hasn’t left yet, and you don’t think he’d appreciate being privy to what’s about to go down in this bedroom. Your entire body is trembling at this point and you feel lightheaded from sleep deprivation and crippling desire. It takes everything in your power to keep yourself from ripping your panties off and hopping straight on his dick. Both of you are clearly ready enough.

“U-unchain me,” he hisses, chains smashing against the headboard as he begins to struggle.

A sense of déjà vu slams into you at this painfully familiar scene… Jungkook drenched in sweat, straining against his bindings, begging you for release… Heat bursts in your chest when you remember just how you offered him relief last time…

You feel intoxicated as you stare at him through watery eyes, wondering how you could possibly be strong enough to resist him long enough to get your point across, “Not yet,” you gulp, “I… I need to talk to you first.”

He whines loudly at that, angrily yanking on his chains again, “Later,” he begs, “Right now, I need to fuck you.”

You swallow tightly as a wave of lightheadedness sweeps through you at his words, “Wait—I need you to understand something first.”

His jaw clenches so hard that a muscle jumps in his cheek, “What?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, “I… I think I want to be with you.” His eyes light up at that, so you hurry to backtrack, “But I have conditions! Jungkook… you’ve known me for over a decade. You know better than anyone that what matters most to me is my independence. I can take care of myself and I don’t need anybody. Not even you. I am a free woman, Jungkook. A woman. Not an item or a possession or whatever bullshit.”

“I know,” he groans, “I know, I know. And I respect you for that. It’s why I love you so much, ___.”

“Really?” you counter with a raised eyebrow, “Then what is this?” you demand, yanking down the collar of your shirt to reveal the little pink indents.

His eyes darken at once, the pupils spilling past the irises as he shifts to a more lupine mindset at the very sight of the marks he bestowed upon you exactly one year ago. “I… I can’t help it,” he says, even as he slowly runs his tongue across his teeth.

You can see how difficult it is for him to keep from lunging forward to sink his fangs into the same scars. “Yes, you can,” you gently pressure him, “I know you have these strong instincts running through you, but you are a man, not a beast. You don’t have to give in to such barbaric thoughts. You are more than that.”

Jungkook groans softly, “I don’t know, ___,” he admits, “I can’t think of anything other than possessing your entire body and filling you to the brim with my seed.”

You shudder at the images that flash through your mind. You’d like that too. But you have to get this out or else you’ll never forgive yourself. “Stop it, Jungkook,” you reprimand him, “Do you love me, or do you want to own me?”

“I love you,” he blurts out at once, without a single millisecond of hesitation.  

You’ve heard this confession every single week for the past year, yet to hear it in person is another thing entirely. Heat blooms in your chest as you take in the genuine expression on his face. You shake your head to clear it from the fuzzy warmth to focus on the task at hand.

You slowly nod your head, "Alright... I want to believe you. But I need you to do something for me first."

He watches with bated breath as you reach into your back pocket and pull out a familiar silver blade. He reacts at once, sitting up straighter in his seat and craning his neck to allow you access. "Yes," he whispers, growing excited at the very sight of the knife, "Mark me here. ____, please cut me."

Your hand tightens on the handle as you shake your head, "No. But I'll cut myself instead."

His furrowed brows reveal his confusion, but instead of explaining, you decide to demonstrate instead. You slowly take a seat at the foot of his bed and curl your feet under you. Jungkook's nostrils flare from the intensity of your scent from such close proximity and his tongue immediately pokes out from between his lips as though to taste you.

"Ugh, ___. Please fuck me," he groans, futilely thrusting his hips out as far as the chains will allow.

You blink the sweat out of your eyes and stubbornly shake your head, "Not yet, Jungkook... Right now, I want you to watch me."

He has no choice but to reluctantly agree, biting down hard on his tongue to tamper the nearly unbearable frustration. You smile at his heroic attempts at obedience, then you lift the blade with shaky hands to position at your neck. The moment you graze the sharp edge against the pink scar above your collarbones, Jungkook slams against his chains hard enough to make the whole bed frame rattle.

"NO!"

You blink, frightened, but not in the least surprised by his violent reaction. You almost feel guilty seeing the sheer devastation in his soft brown eyes. You know what this means to him. It's worse than throwing away a wedding ring or filing divorce papers. It's so much more biologically engrained than that. It's like trampling on his heart.

"Jungkook," you whisper his name, reaching out to touch him for the first time. Jungkook jumps at the feeling of your hand on his cheek and his eyes dart to your face for a split second before jumping back to the terrifying scene with the blade held to your neck. It's pure silver-- the same knife that he had unknowingly gifted you on your front porch all those months ago. If he had only known that you were going to use it against him... He would have never made that mistake. After all, silver is the only substance with the capacity of counteracting his supernatural abilities. And to leave it in your hands...

"Jungkook," you call his name again, feeling anxious when he thrashes against his chains so hard, you fear that the entire steel framework might get dislodged. "Jungkook, look at me," you lift his chin to force him to stare into your eyes, "It's okay, baby."

He whimpers at that, heavily resting his face against your hand, "I don't want to lose you," he confesses in a raw, broken voice.

It hurts you so bad to see him like this. But you know it's for his own sake, "You won't," you assure him as you gently rub your thumb against his sharp cheekbone, "You don't have me right now, Jungkook. But if you give me up as a possession... then maybe we can try to work this out."

Jungkook whimpers again, his eyes squeezing shut for a split second before they land on yours again. Almost indiscernibly, he nods his head. You gratefully smooth your hand across his cheek, trying to placate him, as you slide the knife into your skin.

The pain hits you like a bolt of lightning, sizzling down your spine and lighting up every nerve ending on your body, but Jungkook is a thousand times worse off. He cries out in pain, as though the knife cut through him instead of you and desperately slams against his bindings. But it's too late.

As soon as the knife pierces through the bite marks, the fuzziness from your heat-clouded mind lifts. The ravenous heat in your core dissipates and it feels like you can breathe again. You sigh deeply and look steadily into Jungkook's eyes. What a simple slice of skin, but now everything has changed. He is a wreck before you, chest heaving with exertion, and whole body trembling with barely repressed distress.

You glance down to where blood flows from the shallow, but decisive cut on your neck, back to his eyes. His dark pupils are shaking, eyelashes fluttering as he attempts to gather his wits about him. You quickly throw the bloodied knife across the room and gather him in your arms, "It's okay, Jungkook," you whisper as you run your hands soothingly up and down his leather-encased arms, "It's over now. We're free."

But he continues to shake like a leaf under your embrace, "S-stop touching me," he stammers, "It's too much. I need to fuck you."

The whiny, stuttering quality to his voice causes arousal to flood between your thighs. His sharp wolf senses instantly pick up on the new development, and suddenly he’s not just shaking—he’s vibrating in his own skin.

“Unchain me,” he demands in a deceptively quiet voice, “Now.”

You jerk forward as though electrocuted and dive for the key hidden in the top drawer of the nightstand. Jungkook’s harsh breathing grinds to a stop when you duck behind him to unchain his left wrist. You’ve just barely twisted the key in the lock on his right wrist chain when he suddenly snaps.

The chains noisily bang and clash against each other as he chucks them across the room, then tackles you against the bed without a second thought.

“Wait, Jungkook, I’m not done yet!” You protest, gesturing to the harness around his chest and the chains still pinning his ankles to the bed, but he ignores you entirely to grab at your crotch and has absolutely no patience left to tug your leggings down.

A loud ripping sound echoes through the room. You gasp at the flash of pain when he yanks too hard and the torn threads cut into your sensitive skin for a split second, then the fabric lands in a crumpled pile at the foot of the bed. You try to sit up to push what remains of your leggings down your legs, but at that moment, Jungkook pulls his achingly hard erection out of his pants and roughly lines himself up with your entrance.

It’s a testament to his impatience how he doesn’t bother to flip you over on your stomach to take you from behind, the way he usually prefers. Instead, he grips himself so tightly that the veins pop on his forearms then he slams himself inside of you with no foreplay whatsoever.

He’s incredibly hard and thicker than your faulty memory serves. Despite your extended arousal, your slick walls can’t protect you from the sheer power of his supernatural strength and pain bursts across every nerve ending. You’re so full. Too incredibly full. And the intense pounding rhythm he starts off without allowing you a single second of respite is excruciating.

It’s by far the best thing you’ve ever felt.

“Yes!” You cry out in ecstasy as you tighten both legs around his waist, both feet pressed against his ass to urge him forward. His pelvis slaps against yours with each thrust, creating painful marks sure to blossom into vivid bruises in the morning. But none of that matters. Because after a year, Jungkook is finally with you—inside of you, the way he was always meant to be, without either of you giving up your freedom or any intrinsic parts of your personalities.  

You don’t belong to him and he does not belong to you. You can’t predict if this will last. Maybe you’ll grow old together. Maybe you’ll discover irreconcilable differences and break up after a month. But that doesn’t matter, because at least you have the freedom to move on without some scar binding you together. You are only together because you choose to be.

You close your eyes tightly to focus on the sensations—the feeling of his hard hands on your waist, his panting breaths on the side of your neck, and the painful drilling into your body that sends your entire body sliding back against the sheets with each thrust.

You chose this. You want him, but you don’t need him.

You can’t believe it’s taken you a whole damn year to realize this. And to have him filling you up like this, dripping sweat and groaning your name, after an entire year of deprivation… It’s too much.

You hold on for another dozen rapid-fire strokes, trying to force back your orgasm so you can enjoy this longer, but the effort is futile. With one last particularly well-angled thrust of his hips, you find yourself shattering into a million pieces. You’ve been on edge for so long that the intensity of this long-awaited release is frightening. Your very consciousness is swept away by the flashflood of pleasure, ecstasy zapping through every limb to your fingertips and bright white light bursting across the back of your eyelids, no matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut.

It feels like an injection of pure epinephrine straight to the brain. You drift in this weightless cloud of electric pleasure for an immeasurable amount of time, unwilling to let go until the sound of your name forces you back into consciousness.

“____,” Jungkook anxiously calls out your name, “____, fuck!”

You lazily blink, confused to find him still rolling his length into you over and over, his pace beyond frantic at this point. But he clearly hasn’t found his relief yet… Or maybe he can’t?

A chill slides down your spine as you finally process the sensation of his wet tongue lapping at the remnants of blood from the shallow cut in your neck. You can feel the slide of his fangs as he whimpers and sucks at the scars. He’s just dying to sink his teeth in and recreate the disfigured mark. 

Suddenly, you’re brought back to a full year ago, when you were in the exact same position. But the difference is, this time you know better. And you’re not going to make the same mistake twice.

“Jungkook, no,” you reprimand as you anxiously tug on his hair.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he croaks as he continues to desperately surge into your heat, chasing after his release that flits just out of reach, “I-I can’t. I need to cum. Please.”

When you feel his teeth graze your neck away, you roughly shove him away as hard as you can and grab his jaw to force him to look at you, “No, Jungkook. Don’t do it.”

“Please,” he begs again, clearly at the end of his ropes. Sweat freely flows down his temples and off his thick, bulging neck to collect at his collarbones and he’s panting hard enough to hyperventilate. “Please, please, please. I need to cum so fucking badly. Please!”

You tighten your grip on his jaw and stare him straight in the eye, “Jungkook, this isn’t you right now. It’s the hormones. You don’t want to own me.”

“I know,” he chokes out, in tears at this point, “I know, I know, but I need to fucking cum. It hurts, ___. It hurts so fucking bad.”

His pain is visceral, and you’re sorely tempted to let him bite you again. But then you remember that this isn’t just for you. This is for him, too. You can’t let him lose his freedom either.

Your eyes lock tightly on his, “You love me. I know you love me. And Jungkook, I… I love you, too.”

Forgetting about his instincts and every single hormone that screams at him to fuck you underground, he freezes to stare at you with huge eyes. It’s the first time you’ve ever confessed that to him, and your cheeks flush with color the longer he stares.

Your hands curl to fists and you bravely look him in the eye again, “Jeon Jungkook, I am in love with you.”

The beat of tense silence that ensues makes your skin break out in gooseflesh. You can hear every individual thud of his heartbeat like a drum in your ears.

“Fuck,” he croaks. Then he explodes inside of you.

His seed spills deep inside of you, warming you up to the tips of your fingers and toes. His hips stammer as he desperately rides out the waves of his orgasm, brow furrowed, mouth hanging open and entire body wracked with tremors as intense pleasure lights up every nerve.

Then, abruptly, his strength saps and he collapses onto you in a disheveled heap of sweat and quivering muscle. You’ve had more time to recover than him, so you helpfully run your fingers through his drenched hair, trying to relax him and slow the dangerously quick pitter patter of his heart.

Jungkook groans at the sensations and with herculean strength you didn’t realize he possessed, he pulls himself up onto his elbows to stare down at you in wonderment.

“You love me?”

You nod, shyly ducking your head when embarrassment makes it too difficult to make eye contact anymore. A burst of bell-like laughter makes you jerk your head up again in surprise. His grin stretches from ear to ear, so wide that it must hurt his cheeks. Then he leans down to happily nuzzle his nose against yours in a decidedly lupine way.

“Say it again, ___.”

Flustered, you trip over your tongue half a dozen times before you finally find your voice again, “Um… I… I’m in love with… ah fuck it! You’re such an asshole!” You cry out, writhing under his hold to try to break free.

Jungkook’s tinkling laughter fills the room again as he dips down to muffle your protests with his mouth. You fall immobile at the feeling of his soft lips against your own for the first time in months. His kiss is surprisingly sweet after the savage fuck fest that took place in this very spot mere moments ago. He pecks your top lip, then your bottom lip, before finally pressing his mouth fully to yours. And that’s when you lose it.

You weave both arms around his neck to pull him closer to you and gently move your lips to match his. At once, you fall into a slow, sensual rhythm, lips parting to allow teasing little flicks of tongue. You slide one hand to cup his jaw, groaning when you feel the taut muscles in his cheek flex as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like pure musk and honey, and with each passing second, it grows harder and harder to stop yourself from eating him whole.

To your utmost disappointment, Jungkook breaks the kiss first, and the wet squelch that sounds through the room when your lips disconnect makes you blush. “We need to stop,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle.

You whine in protest and lift your head to seek out another kiss. But he playfully pushes you by the forehead back down onto the mattress.

“Seriously, ___. You’re not going to survive the next three days if you keep teasing me like this,” he says, emphasizing his words with a little twist of his hips against your stomach.

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline when you realize how hard he is… again. “Oh…”

He chuckles at your reaction and leans down to playfully nip your earlobe, “Not that I wouldn’t be willing… But I think we both really need a shower right now.”

You pull back to shoot him a dirty glare, “That’s just an excuse for shower sex, isn’t it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to it…” he laughs at your expression and laboriously pulls himself off of you, “But could you please unchain me first?”

Your mouth forms an “o” of understanding and you quickly rush forward to help him with the cuffs around his ankles, and the leather harness around his chest. He sighs in relief once he’s free, then grabs your hand to beeline for the bathroom.

Although he’s fully dressed, the thin fabric of his simple t-shirt and shorts combo sticks to him with sweat, making it difficult not to stare at his beautiful body as he moves around in the bathroom. You can’t help but steal a few glances at the outline of his chiseled abdomen through his sheer white shirt as he approaches you with a wet cloth in hand. You’ve only just fucked him, yet you want to again...

“Ow!” The sudden press of the washcloth against the cut on your neck makes you cry out in pain.

Worried, Jungkook pulls his hand away, “Are you okay?”

You nod, embarrassed by your wimpy reaction, “Yeah. Sorry. That just took me by surprise.”

“We need to clean it or else the wound might get infected… Can you tough through the pain for me?”

You nod again, leaning back against the sink counter as you watch him fumble through the cupboards for bandages and neosporin. “Jungkook… Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?” you finally break the silence.

He looks up, “Okay with what, love?”

Your insides tingle at the pet name, but you don’t let it distract you. You clear your throat and try again, “With this… This scar,” you say, gesturing to the jagged line across your neck where you sliced through his bite marks, disfiguring the entire area until you can’t see any hint of the original marks, “Can you bear it?”

Jungkook places down the roll of bandages and slowly turns to approach you. “____,” he murmurs your name, reaching out to cup your face with both hands to force your attention on him, “You love me… You finally love me back. Do you really think I’d give a shit about something as crude as a fucking mating mark when you finally reciprocate my feelings?”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you gaze back at him with shining eyes. There it is. This is the reason you fell in love with him at the first place. He gets it. He gets you. You’re unable to stop the emotion that floods you at his genuine confession.

“Fuck it,” you curse, stepping out of the ruined tatters of your leggings and pulling your shirt over your head, “Forget taking it easy. I’m going to fuck you to the death for the next three days and I won’t stop until you’re begging me to.”

His jaw drops in surprise, and you’re pleased to see his pupils dilating with lust until only a ring of feral amber remains around the darkness. He takes one threatening step forward until he’s nearly pressed up against you in the narrow bathroom, “Those are big promises, little girl…” he hisses as he carefully slides both hands up your waist to brush your hardened nipples, “Don’t come crying to me when it’s too much for you.”

“We have a whole year of sex to make up for, baby,” you tease as you turn around to plant your palms on the sink counter and slowly wiggle your hips in his face, “You think you can get it all done in the next seventy-two hours?”

Jungkook’s hands are already on your ass, roughly groping the flesh, “Just watch me, love.”

On the fifty-second Tuesday, you lie in Jungkook’s arms, coated in sweat as the two of you attempt to recover from the most exhausting seventy-two hours of your entire life. The lust spell has officially broken. And the ruined sheets and your lifeless legs are testament to the fact. You turn to gently rake your nails down his sweaty spine. Jungkook shudders and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Hey," you murmur, catching his attention.

Despite his exhaustion, he manages to summon the energy to pop open one eye to look at you, "Yes, love?"

You smile and reach up to affectionately card your fingers through his disheveled black hair, "Jungkook... It's Tuesday... And I love you."

It's like the first, radiant rays of dawn peeking above the horizon, or a flower blooming in the heat of spring, the way his face lights up. His smile is so bright that you have to shield a hand against your face to protect your sensitive eyes against the brilliance.

He chuckles and leans down lovingly nuzzle his nose against yours, “It’s Wednesday now, idiot… But I love you, too.”

Author’s note: After over a year, it’s finally done! Hallelujah! 

As always, please do not ask me for a sequel, and anyone who sends me hateful messages will be reported or blocked. Thanks for reading and have a nice day, everyone! ^^

[argocitycosplay]

So here’s the thing, I really want Retro Invasion to succeed. I love the idea behind it, the philosophy and more importantly, I love that it’s practically in my backyard. It’s one exit down from my office and the easiest drive I’ve ever had to a convention.

That’s one heck of a preface isn’t it?

When I entered the hotel this year I was shocked. Remember how last time The convention space was so packed with the tables that you couldn’t even walk between them? This time around things went the opposite direction… The room was still under blocked that I literally walked in looked around and walked out and asked if there was a second vendor‘s room because this One was so empty… It looked like less than 20 tables, including the guests scared of around a very large room… I’m surprised, because this room really would only take about 10 or 15 minutes to walk through and yet there wasn’t an enormous amount of programming going on either. To put it simply, there  simply wasn’t a whole lot to do. Add that to the fact that they were once again going up against a mammoth convention competitor happening in the same market – I have absolutely no doubt that Akron Comicon was siphoning away potential attendees.

Being familiar with the layout from last time I managed to find my way upstairs to the movie room in time for a screening of Night of the Creeps. I’m pleased to see that they’ve marked the rooms this time so it’s a little clearer that these spaces are being used for convention functions. However, that didn’t stop them from having confused patrons and I found myself giving directions and pointing people to the correct rooms on a surprising number of occasions.

I don’t know if the screening for the movie was late or if somebody had simply misestimated the running time, but the film was just getting into the third act when it was time for the Night of the Creeps panel. This overlap is a real drag, because you had to choose between watching the movie and listening to the actors – something that would’ve been complimentary to each other if they’ve been scheduled back to back instead of one cutting the other off. I slipped out of the screening about six minutes early to make it to the panel room.

It was empty.

The lights in the room were dimmed, and I was confused – I checked the schedule and the panel was indeed scheduled to start in the next five minutes but no one, not even the moderators, had arrived yet. I decided to make a quick pit stop in the bathroom to kill some time and started heading back to the movie room when I bumped into a couple of young women in spooky clothing and bright hair. They asked me where the panel room was and I showed them, only to discover that these were the moderators and that they were arriving mere moments before the talk was scheduled to start. I probably could’ve caught an additional 10 minutes of my movie.

Jill Whitlow has a very convention friendly personality, she is polite and likes to see her friends but it’s still very much a convention kind of persona. Jason Lively on the other hand is completely cracked. He’s got very much a surfer dude bro personality, and is fun and engaging. He was a delight to hang out with, and while I was waiting in Whitlow’s line to have her sign my Night of the Creeps poster he kept getting bored at his table and running over to me to show me pictures from last time he was at a con. We chatted about Spooky Empire and Chiller and Jean Claude Van Damme movies.  It was so much fun. He occasionally check in with Jill and play with her as well, Lively is very hyperactive, especially for somebody who had had as many beers as he’d already had that evening! The stars of Night of the Creeps are both charging $30 for an autograph with an extra $10 up charge if you wanted a photograph with them. I really hate this sort of pricing, and ended up only getting the autographs. After all, the only person from that film who still looks the same as they did back then is Tom Atkins (and I already have a photo with him)! The guys from The Warriors were just flat out charging $40. It’s kind of a drag and really pushing me away from collecting autographs. There was a time when I would’ve grabbed something from everybody in that room, but not with what they’re charging these days.

The panel was good, and I enjoyed what little I get to see of Night of the Creeps, but overall, Retro just doesn’t have enough to do. The convention really can’t keep you occupied for more than a couple of hours and I feel bad for the dude that was in front of me in line who had driven down from Michigan just for this event. This is Retro’s second try at getting the convention formula right and I don’t think they’ve done that yet. It’s my hope that they’ll still give it one more try and get it right, but at this point the goodwill and patience of the con community has got to be fading fast and I’m genuinely not sure if I’ll be back. Guess we’ll wait and see what happens!

  Retro Invasion take two So here’s the thing, I really want Retro Invasion to succeed. I love the idea behind it, the philosophy and more importantly, I love that it’s practically in my backyard.

[edgarpvn9271089-blog]

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