#I get real angsty and dramatic when I write about this guy

[zoomclown]

something that I don't think gets talked about enough is how much Warren needs to be validated by the people who are harming him.

Like how hard he latches onto being important. He will let them treat him any way they want so long as they see him as valuable. I think that beyond the avoidance, there's a part of him that wants to stay at Red Valley just because he is told he is useful.

When he holds himself hostage, the first thing he mentions is that they need him. He believes they will do what he asks because he is valuable to them. When he finally stands up to Bryony and tells her he doesn't want to go back in the pod, he immediately follows it up by mentioning that he is valuable to Overhead. Trying to get her to affirm his worth. Even when they get back from the meeting with the board and he asks her if any of their relationship was real. After hearing her tell them that she's been deliberately triggering his PTSD, he is still trying to get her to say she ever valued him at all.

He could get validation from Gordon any day. Gordon, who somehow manages to convince him that he might actually have value beyond his usefulness as a test dummy. But his need to hear it from people who are actively causing him life-threatening harm just speaks to his experience of parental abuse. The experience of looking into the eyes of someone who is actively hurting you, and instead of fighting back, waiting for them to tell you you're good enough.

[trashytracktales]

hey gurlll first thing first id like to say that im IN LOVE with ur fics. not to be dramatic but im seriously on my knees whenever u post bcs how do u write them so GOODD😭😭😭😭 so i have a request hehe🤭 u can totally ignore this. no pressure!

if u would consider this, hear me out. lando and reader are childhood best friends. they are like two peas in a pot but something made them fought (nothing specific, u can write anything!) that had them not talking for almost 6 months which never happens. since they have the same circle of friends, they got invited to a vacation in portugal. the tension between them is like WOW. then one night, when everyone was already asleep, they had another argument maybe make it like an angry confession that leads them to ANGSTY HOT LONGING YEARNING MINDBLOWING SEX but turns out it was one sided where reader kinda disappeared the next morning lol idk u can imagine the rest. OK THANKS LOVE YA💋

Not quite us | LN⁴

🛥 summary ──── A cold winter fight shatters their friendship, but it’s the heat of the Portuguese sun that brings them back together, months later.

🛥 pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem best friend!reader

🛥 rating ──── explicit

🛥 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, angst and emotional tension, arguments, swearing, jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, manhandling, passive-aggressive behavior, pining, emotional miscommunication, past relationship dynamics.

🛥 word count ──── 8.6k

🛥 date ──── Apr. 23, 2025

🛥 a/n ──── Wrote this one straight off the vibes, just went with the flow and let the request guide me here and there. Sometimes the chaos cooks itself, so I hope you guys enjoy it either way ♥︎

IT’S NEW YEAR’S, and Lando would have a lot more fun if he stopped looking across the room every twenty seconds. But he can’t help himself. If someone looked at him right now, it would be so easy to read it in his body language: he is exasperated, beyond frustrated, and maybe a little drunk. His fingers encircle his glass so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, and his jaw clenches every time he sees the way she flinches when her boyfriend talks back to her.

Suddenly, the music gets too loud, the champagne is too warm, and even if he’s trying his damn hardest to pretend otherwise, his night is completely ruined.

She’s sitting on the edge of a sectional couch with her phone clutched in one hand, refusing to look up at her man, her face carefully blank in a way that screams something is wrong. All it takes is a blink of an eye and he walks towards the exit, visibly annoyed, leaving her behind.

Lando frowns while taking another sip of his drink, forcing a smile as one of his friends says something he doesn’t quite register. Still, he nods along anyway. But all he can think about is her. The girl he’s known since he was seven years old. The one who always matched his chaotic energy. The only one who managed to beat him at Mario Kart and made fun of his haircuts and once almost peed herself laughing during a round of mini golf when they were thirteen.

His best friend.

Or at least, she used to be.

It has been different for a while. They only see each other at events now, like birthday parties and New Year’s gatherings. It sucks, but it’s better than not seeing her at all.

It started shifting the day she met her boyfriend — some guy from uni, older than her, quieter, a bit too polished for Lando’s liking. She said he made her feel seen. Lando didn’t say anything then, just nodded, smiled and pretended he wasn’t dying a little inside.

He told himself he was just being protective, but truth is, he never liked the guy. Something about him felt off, and Lando noticed it in the way he was too controlling and dismissive at times. But Lando had no proof, therefore, no real reason to speak up. So, he stayed quiet. Let the distance grow. Let the invites slow. Let her disappear into another life that didn’t include him the way it used to.

There are a few minutes left until midnight, and he’s still watching her. She smoothes her dress with the palm of her hand, breathes slowly a few times, then gets up from the couch, apologizing with a small smile every time she bumps into other people in her path. Then, she disappears down the hallway, shoulders hunched, phone still in her hand. Her head is down, like she’s trying to avoid any potential encounter. At that sight, something in Lando twists and, for a moment, he thinks she’s going after her boyfriend, his body instinctively tensing. But he relaxes when he realizes she’s just turned right instead, stepping out onto the balcony.

Without thinking, he sets his empty glass down and slips away from the crowd, past the streamers and glitter and flickering lights, heading in the same direction she went. It doesn’t surprise him when he finds her deep in thought, typing on her phone then shoving it angrily into her purse.

Her back is facing him, arms folded over the railing now, the cold air nipping at her exposed shoulders. She must be freezing, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s also not turning when she hears more steps, then the door closing.

She lets out a breath, but it’s not relief. More like she’s trying not to cry. “Hey, Lan.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him. They’ve spent so much time in each other’s company that she’s memorized his footsteps, the sound of his sigh and the hesitation in his voice before he speaks whenever he’s unsure of his words.

Lando pauses a few feet behind her, careful, like he’s afraid she’ll shatter if he’s too loud. “You alright?”

Without waiting for her to answer, Lando just shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders from behind. The girl stiffens for a second, then lets his scent settle around her like a familiar comfort.

She knows things that no one knows about him, like the way his laugh changes depending on who he’s with, but the real one, the high-pitched one that sounds like a hyena giving birth, only comes out when he’s with his friends. She can tell when he’s nervous just by the way he starts tapping his fingers against his thigh. She knows he prefers sleeping with the fan on, even during the winter, that he can’t eat spicy food without tearing up, and that he pretends to like certain people just to keep the peace.

Her best friend.

Or at least, he used to be.

“He left,” she finally says, her voice just a whisper.

Lando moves to stand beside her, copying her posture. “What happened?”

“He said he was going home, but I don’t know.”

He blinks, confused. “Midnight’s in, like… five minutes?”

She shrugs, wiping under her eye with a knuckle, trying to be discreet. “Yeah, well. Apparently I was laughing too loud and drinking too much and fooling around. I was embarrassing him. So he left.”

Lando stares at her, stunned. “It’s a party. What the fuck is he expecting you to do? Sit quietly in the corner and sip water?”

Her laugh is short and sad around the edges, “No, but I know he doesn’t like it when I’m loud or hyper or… whatever.”

There’s a long pause in which she reconsiders her behavior, thinking that maybe her boyfriend is right. Meanwhile, Lando tries to find the right words to counter every single lie that asshole has fed her, the annoyance flooding back in. He turns his head to look at her, and her profile knocks the wind out of him. Her eyes are wet and tired, like she’s trying to hold herself together for longer than just tonight.

“Don’t listen to him,” says Lando quietly, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers, “I love your loud laugh.”

She looks over at him then, a warm wave of safety covering her from head to toe, despite the cold that feels like it cuts across the skin of her face. The words settle heavy between them: I love your laugh. Not ‘it’s nice’. Not ‘it suits you’. I love it. It means more than he probably meant it to. Or maybe it means exactly what he’s never had the guts to say out loud. Until now.

Lando swallows before continuing, “I don’t get it,” he says, “You should be with someone who wants to hear you, no matter how loud or hyper you are. Who knows how lucky they are to be in your presence.” She laughs, as if dismissing his words, but Lando insists, “I’m serious. I still don’t understand why you’re with him.”

The girl lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “He wasn’t always like this.”

“I know.”

Lando’s answer sounds a little too sarcastic and, in response, the silence stretches between them once again. But it’s not empty this time. It’s charged. Heavy with everything they’ve never talked about, and all the months they spent apart.

She turns her eyes back to the view, but her fingers tug his jacket tighter around her body. And then, without looking at him, she speaks again, “No, you don’t. We didn’t talk much lately, so you wouldn’t know.”

Lando wastes no time, “And whose fault is it?”

She shifts her body towards him abruptly, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a question.”

“Right,” she nods once. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about it. I guess I just… needed my friend for a minute.”

Lando nods too, and steps close enough that their arms brush. Before she can say anything else, he leans in, uncertain but determined, and wraps his arms around her. Her cheek presses against his shoulder, seeking his comfort. The only problem is that there’s nothing casual about how Lando’s heart starts to race. His arms come around her tightly, holding her like his life depends on it, even though she’s the one that’s been ditched by her boyfriend on New Year’s.

They stay like that for a while, their breaths fogging between them in the cold night air. The space they share gets warmer, which makes her snuggle into his chest. She smells like citrus and champagne and every memory he’s ever tried not to think about too hard when he was missing her.

The girl pulls back slightly, enough that her face is tilted up toward his. And when he reaches to cup her cheek, her skin is smooth beneath his palm, her lips slightly parted like she might say something, but doesn’t. They just stare at each other, the same way you only look at someone when you’ve missed them for too long, and you’re finally close enough to touch but terrified to move any further, thinking that maybe they’re not even real.

The countdown begins in the background, a little muffled through the glass door, people shouting numbers like a slow drumbeat from the inside.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

“Break up with him,” Lando’s voice cuts through the haze, rougher than he intended.

One.

The cheers erupt from every direction. The sky bursts into a sea of light above them, fireworks flaring gold, silver, and pink. The noise is distant, like it’s happening on another planet. They wouldn’t know, because they don’t even look. Instead, her eyes are still searching his, confused and a little broken.

He could lean in and take it all, just this once, and blame it on the alcohol.

But she blinks, breaking the ephemeral magic of the moment. She takes a step back, then another, slow and cautious, until she’s out of his arms. “What?”

Lando doesn’t move. “You deserve better.”

“Lando…”

“No,” he shakes his head. “He treats you like shit,” his voice rises gradually, dipped in more emotion than he probably wants to show, “And I don’t know what’s worse: that you know it or that you allow it.”

She looks at him as if Lando is shapeshifting right before her eyes, and he does it far too quickly for her to have time to process.

“Stop assuming things about me,” she warns, all the warmth between them dissolving in an instant. “You don’t know.”

“I know he should’ve been here, kissing you right now. I know he made you cry instead,” he says, stepping forward, closing the distance that she put between them earlier. “I know he left you at a party alone because you were laughing too loud,” he continues, mockingly. “Do you hear how fucking ridiculous that sounds?”

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You don’t know the full story, Lando. He asked me to go home with him, but—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts her. “Looks like he ditches you whenever you’re too much for him. And I can bet this isn’t the first time he’s made you cry, is it?”

She scoffs, “Oh, so now you’re paying attention?” she asks, adopting a defensive attitude. “It’s been months since you’ve shown any interest in me.”

Lando flinches like she just slapped him. “You’re the one who stopped showing up. It’s cause you’ve gotten busier. With him, eh?”

“Smooth, Lando,” she fires back in a disappointed voice. “You pulled away first,” she reminds him, pointing a finger at his chest; tears threaten her eyes again, but she blinks rapidly to clear them away.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know where I fit anymore,” he says, his voice cracking around the edge of frustration. “You were always with him. Always defending him. I didn’t want to be that friend who hovered too close or some asshole that oversteps your boundaries. Because, believe me, I was so close to cross a lot of those before deciding to back the fuck up.”

She stares at him, incredulous, as if all the months they have been apart have completely changed her childhood best friend. “So, instead of talking to me, you just ghosted me? Very mature.”

Lando’s jaw tightens before replying, “I needed space.”

“You disappeared,” she corrects him. “You didn’t just take space. You shut me out.”

“That was me respecting your sorry ass relationship.”

“No,” she laughs dryly. “You were trying to make a point.”

Maybe, Lando thinks, looking away. But that’s not the whole truth. It’s painful, not to mention frustrating, to watch someone you care about being treated badly. It may have been selfish on his part, but Lando couldn’t stand by and watch the girl who deserved it all get only a piece of it.

“You don’t like him,” she continues, voice quieter now. “I get that. But instead of saying it, you just judged me from a distance.”

“No, I don’t like him,” he admits. “Matter of fact, I despise the guy. But not just because of who he is. It’s because he changes you.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not true.”

Lando laughs, but he’s not amused in the slighlest. “You went from having fun to crying in a matter of minutes. Because of him. How many times has this happened before?”

“He never—” she tries to warn him, before Lando cuts her off again.

“Keep defending him,” he says, irritated. “Because God forbid someone call you out when you’re being steamrolled by someone who doesn’t see your worth.”

“And God forbid you admit that maybe you’re not always right!” she snaps. “You don’t get to parachute in and act like some moral compass. If that’s the case, where the hell have you been all this time?”

The question silences them both. He can’t say too much without saying it all, and she’s waiting for something that won’t get to her. Not yet.

Disappointed, hurt, and extremely tired, she shrugs his jacket off and throws it at his chest. “Happy fucking New Year.”

𝟳 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥

📍 Somewhere off the Algarve coast, Portugal

AFTER THE HECTIC life she’s lived in the past few months, a weeklong yacht trip along the Portuguese coast is all she needs. Blue water, rosé on deck, and most importantly, no drama.

She says yes before she even checks the guest list, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Everybody in their group knows about the social distancing between her and Lando. Plus, she always checks his calendar, keeping an eye out for the weekends he’s away, racing, meaning she can tag along without stressing that they’re going to bump into each other.

Of course, she still watches his races. Just because they stop talking that doesn’t mean she stopped caring about the dream that Lando has been striving for since childhood. That’s also why she knows that Lando will be in the UK for at least another week, as he mentioned in the post-race interview, which won’t interfere with their little getaway.

By Friday, however, things change drastically. It’s only when she’s already halfway to the marina — after spending the entire afternoon shopping with the girls — that Max texts her.

BTW, just so you’re not surprised… Lando is flying in tonight. I know things aren’t great between you two right now, but he’s still my friend as much as you are, and I didn’t wanna lie or make it weird :D

You okay?

For a moment, everything seems to slow down, including her heartbeat. All the sounds that surrounds her fade into the background, while she tries to steady herself against the sudden rush of emotions.

Is she okay? Well, for the most part yes. But that’s because she haven’t seen Lando in months. There are many ways she can react when they’ll finally be face to face again, and she can’t decide which is worse. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter, because she simply doesn’t have the time to analyze every scenario.

I’ll survive, she texts back.

She will.

She has to.

It gets dark pretty late, but the night is warm, balmy with salt and wine in the air. They decorated the boat’s upper deck with a string of lanterns, their golden glow flickering against the white hull, gently illuminating the space. The music thumps lazily from a speaker somewhere, low enough not to overwhelm the sea’s waves but steady enough to pulse through bare feet on smooth wood.

Someone’s uncorking another bottle of vinho verde, and a few of the girls are still in their swimsuits, legs tucked beneath oversized linen shirts as they lounge across sun-warmed cushions.

She’s also barefoot, her skin kissed pink from the day, a loose skirt swaying at her thighs as she spins around one of the support poles, smiling wide; she decided, hours ago, that she won’t let anything ruin her vacation. It’s the first time in months she’s felt this light, and has no intention to let the feeling be washed away by the waves of a past so distant.

Only when she realizes that she is, in fact, invincible and that nothing can shake her confidence, she hears a familiar laugh, the same one she’ll recognize anywhere. But she doesn’t turn to it immediately. Instead, her body stiffens as fast as if it’s controlled by a remote.

He’s here and, suddenly, the breeze curling in from the sea feels somehow cooler. It’s just a voice, but it’s his, and it sounds so melodic in her ears, even after all this time.

When she finally turns around, all the noise dials down.

Lando’s standing on the deck like he’s never been gone, a duffel thrown over one shoulder, his curls slightly damp from the flight or the heat or the mist. He’s in a loose, black tank top and shorts, his sneakers untied like he didn’t even bother to fix them. He’s already smiling when he sees Max coming to greet him with a drink in hand, sliding easily into hugs and handshakes. Everything is so normal that she almost rushes to the stairs to jump into his arms.

As if he hears her thinking about him, Lando looks up and their eyes catch mid-movement.

The music doesn’t stop. No one freezes. The conversation continues. And yet something just between them shifts, making Lando still for a moment. His smile falters slightly. The duffel slides off his shoulder and drops at his feet. His gaze lingers longer than it should, because he seems genuinely surprised, like he hadn’t expected her to look the way she does — lighter, freer, happier than the last time he saw her.

Like a low-budget movie, they just look at each other for a while and then, barely perceptible, Lando nods once. It is a subtle, tired gesture. Not warm, but not hostile either. More like: I see you. I’ll behave.

And she nods back: I see you too. I’ll try.

That’s all that it is. A small breath of peace in the warzone. Because they both know that this vacation isn’t about them. There are too many people they both love here, too many memories tied up in this group to be so selfish as to ruin everyone’s fun.

With that, Lando disappears below deck with a few of the guys, and the party continues as if nothing happened.

SOMEHOW, THEY’VE MANAGED.

It’s the last night on the boat together, and not once have they really spoken. Just kept on with the civil nods and carefully timed appearances. She took the mornings on the upper deck with a book and her sunglasses pulled low, while he suck to afternoons with Max and Keegan, sunbathing and pretending not to look over when she passed by.

Every time they went out for dinner, they sat at opposite ends of the table, pretending to be invested in conversations that barely held their attention.

When they went to explore the nearby cliffs and hidden beaches, they naturally split into smaller groups, Lando ending up with the boys, as usual, taking the off-road buggy trails that wind through dusty hills, while she tagged along with a few of the girls. They didn’t walk near each other. Didn’t even end up in the same group photo.

But the glances were a constant, and all of them have carried them both here, almost at the end.

There’s a bizzare quiet in the air tonight, the kind that only the sea can create — so deep, violent, and alive at the same time.

After soaking in her own heat for hours, she decides to step out of her cabin for a breath of fresh air.

They’ve ordered seafood for dinner, and her relationship with it is not exactly good. A small breeze brushes across her face, lifting her hair slightly, carrying with it the clean scent of salt. The boat rocks gently beneath her, and the stars above are strewn carelessly across the sky like spilled sugar.

The second she steps into the dark of the corridor and turns toward the small galley, her heart skips a beat. For good reason. Lando’s already there, barefoot and shirtless and deep in thought in the low light, leaning against the railing like he belongs in the night. One of his hands is resting on the cool metal, while the other is wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.

His head turns when he hears her cat-like steps, eyes catching hers in the dark.

The only sounds are the gentle hush of the waves against the hull, and the occasional creak of the boat. Neither of them says anything, as if they don’t even know how to speak to each other after throwing cutting words at each other, all those months ago. The silence between them doesn’t make them feel awkward. Maybe just a little guarded. However, it’s very depressing, really, not having anything to say to the person who once knew absolutely everything about you.

It would be very easy for her to turn on her heels and walk back into her cabin, avoiding Lando, just like she has done all these days. But then she hears his whispered voice, and his mellow intonation is enough to make the entire planet stop from spinning.

“Everything okay?”

She swallows, caught in the stillness of the night as if she’s a thief. “Yeah,” she whispers back, even though it sounds more like a question than an answer. “Felt a bit sick.”

He nods slowly. “The shrimp?”

“The fucking shrimp,” she agrees.

Lando shrugs. “Ew.”

His reaction triggers a wave of warmth that washes over her, forcing a smile while thinking about the past. The memory flashes rudely uninvited. Still, she weclomes it with nothing but nostalgia in her heart. They were eight, crammed into a bed on a family vacation, and she’d eaten her weight in shrimp and clams at dinner, proudly declaring herself a seafood queen. Hours later, she threw it all up, right there, in bed, all over him. Lando woke up screaming, drenched in the smell of stomach acid, fish and betrayal and, ever since, he couldn’t even stand near a fish without gagging.

Cautious, she edges forward, bracing her arms on the railing only a couple feet apart from him, eyes fixed on the black stretch of sea. The moon paints a silver path across the water, waves shifting like oil under its light. For a few minutes, they just stand there like two ghosts, side by side, watching the view, but probably stuck in different memories.

“So, I’ll go back inside,” she says a little unsure.

His voice cuts through the quiet, “Stay,” says Lando without hesitation.

It’s not just the gentle plea that catches her off guard, but the way he says it. Like he means it more than he means anything else right now. Possibly more than he meant anything else ever.

Awkwardly, she moves forward, letting herself lean closer to him. That’s how she finds out that physical distance means absolutely nothing when it’s the emotional distance that kept them apart. More than that, there are many things left unsaid that fill that void.

Out of sheer curiosity — or plain stupidity, she’s not sure yet — the girl begins to walk uncertainly towards the edge of the space that separates them.

“You remember New Year’s?” she asks, the words coming out softer than she expects.

There is no trace of hatred or resentment behind her voice, which surprises her. She understands that she has, without realizing it, moved beyond their most tensed moment so far. And all that’s left now, besides her curiosity, is the fact that no matter how much time has passed, the two of them still know each other on a level they haven’t reached with anyone else.

Lando doesn’t look at her, but his jaw flexes. “Hard to forget.”

“I threw your jacket at you,” she continues with a small laugh.

“And stormed off like you were in a romcom.”

“To be fair, you were being a dick.”

He chuckles then, and the sound is gentle yet painfully nostalgic. “I probably was.”

“You talked like you knew everything. It was…” she hesitates, fingers tightening slightly on the rail, “A bit cruel. Even if it came from a good place.”

Lado nods. “I know,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know how to talk without sounding like some immature tantrum just because I was missing my friend.”

She glances at him then, studying the curve of his profile in the moonlight. The familiar slope of his perfect sculpted nose. The way his curls fall just a little longer then she remembered. The way he speaks but seems so deeply forgotten in the memory of that winter night.

“I broke up with him the next day,” she admits.

He turns, his eyes searching for hers. “Yeah,” says Lando, “I figured.”

Even though she tries her best, she can’t read his demeanor. He seems tense, even though their conversation isn’t hostile in any way. Not yet, at least. Still, Lando looks as if he’s bracing for some sort of impact that she’s not aware of. There something softer in his expression, though. Something hesitant that encourages her to keep him in that memory.

“I think about it sometimes,” she continues. “That night. All of it.”

He nods again. “Me too. ”

She looks over, eyes wide and cautious, but Lando doesn’t look away.

“But,” he continues, “I won’t apologize for what I said. Because I wasn’t wrong. You do deserve better. And maybe I had no right to say it the way I did, but I’d rather have fought with you than keep watchig you shrink yourself for someone who didn’t even appreciate you.”

His words hit like the waves, tightening her throat. “I get that. But in the moment, it made me feel…” she begins, eyes filling up with tears, “Like you stopped respecting me because of him. And I felt stupid for being so blinded that I lost sight of all the things that were the most important to me.”

The way Lando looks at her now makes her heart sink. Not with pity. Not even with regret. Just a dull ache, like he’s been carrying it with him for months, and he’s too tired to hold it tightly anymore.

“Come on, you know that’s not true,” he says. “I was just irritated and drunk. Watching you disappear like that wasn’t easy, and I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding like a selfish prick. I should’ve just said something,” adds Lando. “Instead of sulking and keeping score and acting like you betrayed me for living your life,” he looks away then, back to the endless sea, eyes half-lidded like the movement of the waves might offer him something easier to face. Anything but this.

He had time to think and weigh his actions. But it all came down to those last few minutes, when it suddenly became too much for both of them.

“I missed you, Lando,” she confesses after a while, letting the words out in a small voice.

The silence that follows is no longer heavy with avoidance, but an intimate warmth that somehow infiltrates under her skin. It merges with all the sadness caused by the time they spent apart and, together, they create a new kind of feeling that she doesn’t yet know how to name. And, for some reason, she’s in no hurry to do so.

Uncertain yet courageous after hearing her admission, Lando’s hand finds hers along the railing and, to his surprise, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she threads her fingers through his, like she was already waiting for it. For him.

It’s weird, she thinks, how their hands fit together like the end of a sentence that finally makes sense. So she keeps it there, feeling his pulse in her palm like it’s the most normal thing in the world. They can’t look at each other, though. And suddenly, the waves are so much more interesting than the mess they’ve created, their soft undulation bewitching them both, mirroring their feelings in a sick, twisted way; tamed at the surface, yet storming somewhere deeper.

In the chaos of her mind, she can feel the gentle way his thumb brushes the side of her hand. The way he squeezes her afterwards. Like a promise. And she knows, without either of them saying it, that this was always going to happen. That they are inevitable, like gravity pulling them toward the center of each other.

“Are we gonna go back to being cold in the morning?” he finds the strength to ask, voice barely above the hush of the tide.

Truth is, she doesn’t even know what the next few minutes will bring, let alone the next morning.

The girl turns her head slightly, her cheek pressing to his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know how to be your friend nowadays,” she admits, not to make him feel bad, but because that’s the only thing she’s sure of. Her truth.

Lando sighs, “Yeah, that’s not quite us anymore, hm?”

It takes another crushing silence before Lando turns to her completely. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter they can’t be friends anymore, because they’re way past that. Lando is way past that. All he wants is one chance to show her how much it means to him; every word, every touch and every single thought that’s been haunting him for days on end.

He looks like he’s on autopilot when he brings his other hand up to brush her jaw. After his movement, she takes the next step and leans into his touch. She opens her mouth, maybe to say his name, but the words don’t get the chance to get out, because Lando grabs her firmly and pulls her toward him. Hard. Like he can’t take the distance anymore.

His mouth crashes into hers without any warning. It isn’t careful. It isn’t sweet. It’s the result of months of silence, of aching, of watching and wanting and never having. It’s teeth clashing, breath catching, fingers curling so hard into skin that it’ll leave marks.

She gasps into his mouth, as if the ground is crumbling beneath her feet, but at the same time, it’s the most exciting feeling she’s ever felt. Her arms are instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer like she’s been just as consumed by what they didn’t say. Lando fists a hand in her hair, the other gripping her waist tight enough to bruise. He’s all fire, hot and desperate, and there’s not enough water that surrounds them to cool what’s raging in his chest.

He gives her the kind of kiss that says I missed you too and I’m sorry and I never stopped thinking of you all at once. Her hand constricts around his bicep, grounding herself in the feel of him: his salty lips and the way he exhales with a relieved sigh like she’s air after being underwater for far too long. It’s impossible not to feel how much he needed this, because there’s nothing left unsaid in the way he holds her. The truth — his truth — was always there, waiting for the moment they’d both be brave enough to let in.

The kiss deepens before either of them realizes what’s happening. And it’s her who leans in a bit further. That brings him back to the present moment, not because she is just as desperate, but because of how much she means it. How much she wants this. It’s right there, in the way her mouth moves over his, open and urgent, like a need that’s been burning for too long. It makes Lando groan silently when her teeth graze his bottom lip, her tongue flicking against his like a dare. A dare that he answers to, meeting her halfway, teasing, then licking into her mouth with a skilled confidence that makes her head spin.

Oh, he’s a good kisser.

Dizzy from the sudden intensity, she clings to his neck, tilting her head as he takes control, his hands finding their way back to her waist after roaming up and down her body, guiding her back a few steps until her spine presses lightly to the railing. The breeze kisses across her bare legs, her thin nightdress doing nothing to hide the way her body shivers. Or how hard he gets against her. She feels it instantly, like a sharp contrast between his swim trunks and her body, and it sends a jolt of heat right between her thighs.

Her breath hitches once they stop, glancing up at him, caught between amusement and want. “What are you so excited for?”

Lando meets her gaze with an innocent grin twitching at his lips as he shrugs, “Sorry.”

She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation she finds herself in. Loud. The kind of laugh that throws her head back a little and makes her cover her mouth when she realizes its heat.

Lando just watches her, enchanted by her mere existence. And, without thinking twice, he asks, “How can anyone be embarrassed by that laugh?”

The sudden comment silences both of them. Lando, because he just heard himself saying it out loud. And her, because of how sincere he sounds. How tender.

Still grinning, he lets his forehead fall against hers. They may never encounter such a moment of peace again, so neither of them hesitates to take it where it’s supposed to go to: her tiny cabin. The narrow door clicks shut behind them, and the space is barely big enough for one person, let alone the two of them tangled in something so close it’s hard to tell where tension ends and need begins.

She backs into the bed, and Lando follows, eyes fixed to her like she’s the only girl ever. When they finally collapse onto the mattress, it creaks under their weight. Their knees bump. Shoulders brush. Lando’s arm wraps around her waist in an instant, and she fits there like it’s hers. That grip. Him.

Somehow, he’s bigger than she remembers. Or maybe she’s just never noticed how broad his chest is, how his legs stretch past the foot of her bed, how small her frame feels when she pulls him into her. And now, in the closeness of their embrace, it’s impossible not to feel it.

It intimidates her, but she keeps her hands all over him, warm skin meeting her palms. Her eyes roam without shame, wandering from his abdomen up to his pecs and then stop on his freshly kissed lips. Her fingers trail along his arms, feeling the strength carved into muscle by years of racing and tension. She watches the way goosebumps rise under her touch, and when her hand flattens over his chest, just above his heart, Lando exhales heavily, with a slight shudder.

He doesn’t look away, though. He doesn’t have the heart or enough willpower. He simply looks back at her, eyes burning, as if seeing her underneath him like this is the only normal thing in their messed up lifes.

“I need to know where’s your head at,” he says, his long fingers brushing the outside of her thigh.

She closes her eyes for a moment. Mostly because she finds it hard to pay attention when her childhood friend — the skinny little boy who used to be blown away by the slightest breeze — is now on top of her in the flesh, displaying groups of muscles she’s never seen on his body before, let alone touched.

Her hand stays on his chest, “Am I ever going to get my best friend back?”

His hearts breaks a little, because he realizes that both of them know the implications of her question. The answer, too, but she still wants to hear him saying it, because that’s the only thing that’ll make it true.

Lando’s eyes search hers for a moment too long, and something in him rearrange, the muscle in his jaw tightening before he leans in. “No,” he simply replies.

She figured. Still, it is not necessarily the answer itself that makes her emotional, but the way Lando said it, as if it is torture for him to even admit it.

“I can’t ruin myself over and over again, pretending that what I feel for you is small. It never was.”

She nods, lifting her hand to the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him down until their lips are barely brushing. Lando’s hands are pulling at her, slowly sliding the straps of her dress down. He takes his time, undressing her like he’s unwrapping a present he’s waited far too long to touch. And when she’s standing there, bare and warm and only for him to see, he sits back to stare and take as many mental pictures as he can.

“You’re…” he starts, voice nearly breaking, “So fucking beautiful.”

She presses closer, hands moving to his shorts with urgency. Lando lets her, barely breathing and, when the last layer falls away, she looks down at him. All of him. His golden skin that glows in the dim light filtering through the porthole, muscles tightening under her hungry touch.

Impatient, his hand slides between her legs while maintaining eye contact, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin at her inner thigh before he presses just lightly against her entrance. The reaction is immediate, a sharp breath followed by a soft whimper that catches in her throat. Her hips instinctively lift toward him, and his own breath wavers at the sound.

“So wet,” he breaks off, almost spiraling from the realization, from finding out just how much she wants him. Just like he wants her.

For a moment, there’s something feral in his gaze, something that won’t let her move her eyes. Like he’s balancing on a tightrope of restraint, and she’s the drop waiting to pull him under.

“It kills me,” he admits. Then he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, “But you need to be quiet, darling.”

She nods, her breath still uneven, knowing it’s going to be anything but easy.

Lando presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone before he continues, “Even though I love it when you’re loud, you’ll have to save that for later.”

Just the thought of her, waiting for his next move all warm and wanting, has his cock already pulsing in his palm. He strokes himself slowly, gaze locked on her as she shifts beneath him, spreading wider with a shaky inhale.

As curious as ever, she glances down between them, eyes filled with want, and he watches her bite her lower lip at the sight of him, so hard and ready. The gap between them closes quickly, suspended in that final moment before everything changes. Her fingers curl into the sheets, watching Lando lining himself up, just barely brushing against her clit. Then, he pushes in with a whimper that sounds like it’s been clawing at his throat for months. Like this moment has been sitting just under his skin, waiting to become real.

“Fuck,” he pants, silently. “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Right now, all her senses are inhibited by him. The weight, the stretch, the warmth, the way his hands frame her hips like she’s the only thing keeping him in check, and she’s the only reason why Lando isn’t unleashing hell yet. Her legs wrap around his waist, holding him close, as if her body already knows what her heart won’t let her say.

Lando. Lando. Lando!

But he shakes his head, his voice going lower than normal, “No, baby, Let me.”

The bed is laughably small, making Lando huff out a frustrated breath, one arm sliding under her thigh as he shifts them both, gripping her firmly to guide her where he needs her. It’s not graceful in any way, but there’s something about the way he manhandles her, lifting, adjusting, controlling the angle until it’s perfect, that makes her head fall back with a gasp.

He exhales through his nose, lips pressing in a thin line to avoid making sounds that could get them both into trouble. “There. That’s it.”

She lets him move her, pliant and trusting, her breath getting heavier when their skin brushes in all the right places. Every thrust is slow at first, drawing soft moans from her mouth that only make him harder. The way her body reacts only fuels him, encouraged by the way her lashes flutter, and the way her hands slide into his hair when she can’t find the words. She couldn’t say it anyway. Can’t give voice to what’s blooming and breaking inside her.

But Lando feels it in the way she moves with him, and how her body opens like it was always meant to. That pushes him to thrust harder, feeling like the entire boat shakes at the force.

“Easy. You’re gonna break the bed,” she says against his jaw, her voice a breathy laugh.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve broken over you,” he mutters back, but there’s no malice in his tone, except a dangerous affection that’s always lived under his skin when it came to her.

It makes her curious to know what he means, but just as she’s about to ask, Lando finds that angle where their bodies align like puzzle pieces that should’ve never fit but somehow do. He rocks into her so sweetly, and that’s enough to silence her. The answer is in the way her breath stutters. The way her fingers grip his arms. The way her body pulls him in and clenches around his length like it’s never known anything else.

“Shit. Again, please,” Lando breathes wetly against her skin. “Do that again,” he repeats, already buried to the hilt, grinding against that perfect spot inside her, that once he found it, it’s impossible to stop. “Mhm. Let me make it right.”

“You said you can’t,” she challanges him, barely able to speak. “So stop taking your sweet time, Norris,” she pants, breathless but defiant, smirking even as her thighs tremble around his hips.

Lando lifts his head, curls damp against his forehead, eyes dark with a sudden annoyance. “Yeah? That’s how he’s had you all this time? Quick, in and out, job done?”

Her smirk drops into a scoff, her hands pressing against his chest like she might shove him off. But she arches into him instead, loving the way her back rubs against the mattress with each push.

“If anything, he had the balls to be honest with me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he thrusts deeper, making her gasp mid-retort. “Stop defending him, will ya?”

The sheets are already half off the bed, twisted and forgotten, heat pulsing like a heartbeat between them. Lando starts moving inside her with a relentless rhythm, as if trying to erase anyone who came before him with every shove. But she won’t give him the silence he craves.

Not anymore.

Her head tilts back, sweat glistening at her collarbone, but her eyes are sharp, ready to catch his reaction. “No wonder you drive like that. Always trying to prove you’re better than the last guy, aren’t you?”

His hips slam forward, hard enough to make her gasp again, fingers bruising against her waist. “That’s rich coming from the girl who settled for someone who didn’t even know how to fuck her, let alone treat her right.”

She bites her lip, not in surrender but to hide the moan that slips out anyway. Her nails dig into his back, dragging down like a punishment until he grunts. “You’re such a coward,” she snaps. “At least he didn’t treat every conversation like a race he had to win.”

All of a sudden, Lando slows his movements, grinding deep, making her eyes roll before he fucks back into her harder than before. Only to make a point. Only to see all the places he takes her to.

“‘Cause he had the habit of abandoning before it even started, isn’t it? How many times did you have to fake it?”

Her eyes snap to his, speechless, but Lando doesn’t blink. He grins at her, knowing he is waiting for an answer he’ll never get.

She kisses him then, hard and angry, pouring all the emotions she never thought Lando, of all people, would ever awaken in her. Then she pushes him, her legs squeezing around his waist, her action emphasizing the duality of the thoughts going through her mind.

“Just so we’re clear. You’re not the first to try and fuck me into forgetting,” she finally replies.

At that, Lando stops for a breath, not from exhaustion but from the way her words claw straight through his big ego. He slams into her again, smiling at her, hand catching her thigh to spread her wider. “But I’m the one who’s going to succeed.”

She’s so close, he can feel it in the way her body aches to keep his cock inside and how her insults start to blend with moans. What amazes him, though, is the strength she has to continue their little argument, as if they’re not in the middle of something else right now.

“Never thought you could be such an asshole, it’s unbelievable.”

Lando doesn’t even blink when he speaks again, “He made you cry on New Year’s,” he growls, voice sharp, like a blade slipping between her ribs. “And I’m the asshole?”

Before she can throw a retort back, he tilts his hips, changing the angle, and drives into her so sudden that it knocks the breath from her lungs. Her back arches, while her hips are lifting to meet every punishing thrust.

“Lando,” she moans his name, arms winding around his shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life.

She can feel him in places she didn’t even know could feel. He’s fucking her with such intensity it turns into a blur of slick skin and strangled whimpers, the bed creaking beneath them.

The banter dies somewhere along the way, and all that’s left behind is the heat, the pounding rhythm, the kind of pleasure that makes thoughts disappear and stars dance behind their eyes. Her brows are scrunched, eyes glazed, and she realizes she’s about to scream. Actually scream.

Luckily, Lando places a hand over her mouth just in time, muffling the broken sounds pouring out of her throat. It takes her by surprise, realizing how well he knows all her signals without ever telling him. But it’s easy for him. Especially when he sees the way her body’s trembling under his weight, and the way her eyes plead and challenge all at once.

He nods, hips pistoning into her, watching her come apart beneath him, a quiet, shaking mess.

“Yeah,” he grunts as quiet as possible through gritted teeth, “That’s it. Just me now.”

The words hang in the sweat-soaked air as she comes around his length, clenching so tight it nearly takes him with her. Lando doesn’t stop moving. Instead, he talks her through it, his voice breathless against her ear.

“That’s my girl, let it all out. So fucking perfect.”

Her nails sink further into his back, riding the aftershocks with his cock still buried deep, stretching her in all the ways she was craving. It brings him right on the edge, and with a frustrated cry, Lando pulls out, the head of his cock flushed and swollen as it rests hot and heavy against her thigh. He lets himself go at the sight, thick ropes spilling messily onto her skin. Sticky. Warm. Heavenly.

“Lan,” she breathes, half a protest, half a moan, reaching up to drag him back on top of her.

Lando can’t resist the pull. Not when her touch unravels him with every glide of her fingers over his skin. He used to dream of it, but the reality is always better. He kisses her again, softer this time, letting the moment stretch before his hand finds the curve of her breast, fingers teasing with just enough pressure to make her arch against him. Patiently, his thumb sweeps over her nipple, circling, pressing, feeling it harden under his touch.

It makes her whimper, her hands fisting in his hair. Lando’s lips find the column of her throat then, biting gently just beneath her jaw. Her sounds light him up like the fireworks they didn’t witness that night. He trails his kisses down to her collarbone, one palm flattening over her stomach before traveling back up.

Somehow, the chaos has slowed, but the heat is still there.

Their bodies are tangled in ways that no one could tell where she starts and where he ends, the mess between them so satisfying. When their eyes meet again, he sees her flushed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and her chest heaving. Her eyes are so vulnerable as she looks back at him — her Lando, stripped down and completely wrecked.

And without a single word, he slides back in.

No sharp words, no angry breathing. Just the sound of their pants, the wet glide of his cock moving inside her, the weight of emotion that neither of them dares to name. Every thrust is unhurried this time around, his sweaty forehead resting against hers, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of her walls fluttering around him, the way her thighs lock around his waist with each roll of his hips.

It’s not just sex anymore. Is so much more than that, something that will linger for a quite some time after they part tonight. And they both know it.

When the pressure builds again, it’s different. There’s less fire. More ache. She blinks up at him, and her lips tremble. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes, not from physical pain, but from the overwhelming closeness of it all.

Lando sees it, and kisses them away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

And when he comes again, it’s with a quiet groan right against her lips, buried deep as her body pulls him in, taking every drop of his pleasure and keeping him as if he belongs to her from now on. All of it. All of him.

The silence that surrounds them afterwards feels too full. She lets him stay there, wrapped around her, her fingers idly tracing his back. But her gaze is distant, fixed on the ceiling, already somewhere else.

For now, at least, they can coexist in the same world, breathing each other in until the reality will catch them from behind.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow morning.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[joelsmochi]

honeypie - joel miller

summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!) warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive wc: 2.6k a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓

series masterlist | main masterlist

-

“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.

Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.

You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.

You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.

“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“

Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.

Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.

“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.

“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.

“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.

“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”

“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”

Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”

“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”

“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”

♡

“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”

You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.

He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.

He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.

But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.

“Good,” you answered.

Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.

“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”

“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”

You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.

“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.

“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.

“It’s just so weird,” she whined.

“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.

You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.

“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.

“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”

“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes at her.

“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”

♡

“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.

He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”

“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”

“Uh, no?” You said.

Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”

“So if we’re not together then what is this?”

You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”

Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.

You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.

“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.

“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.

“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”

Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”

“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.

“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”

“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.

“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”

“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.

Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.

“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”

“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”

“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”

You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.

“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”

You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.

Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, why?”

“You see the older man on lane twelve?”

He looked and then nodded.

“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.

“Fifteen,” he negotiated.

“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”

“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.

“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.

You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.

But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”

By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.

Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.

And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.

A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.

“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.

“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”

“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”

Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”

Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.

“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”

He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”

Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.

“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.

He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.

“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”

You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.

Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.

“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.

“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.

“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”

He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.

He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.

Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.

You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.

He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?

Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”

He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”

“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.

“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.

“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”

An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.

“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”

“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.

Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.

“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”

“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”

He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”

Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”

Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”

He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.

“You love me,” he mumbled.

“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.

“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”

[redocity]

Hiii i love your writing!! Currently keeping me alive 😩 im begging for some angst hurt to comfort. Maybe something involving abby but ultimately a happy ending?

MOVING ON - E.BUCKLEY

buck was finally taking the step to move out of abby’s apartment, except it’s not exactly that easy.

WARNINGS: buck has a minor breakdown oops, minor abby slander, happy ending

buck x fem!reader II hurt/comfort Il 2.3k Il requests open!

a/n: thank you for the request! і love writing angsty stuff

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Buck had finally decided that he’d had enough.

He wasn’t going to wait for Abby to come home anymore. He needed to move on. It’d been almost five months since she’d left, and five months of the team trying to convince him she wasn’t coming back.

He’d given up trying to convince them all that their relationship was just ‘unconventional’ by now, and after a particularly lonely Friday night he decided it was time to make a move.

"Can you believe it? After five months? I’m finally moving out of her apartment." Buck lugs a half filled cardboard box over to the dining table, dropping it down with a thud.

“I’m proud’a you,” You tap his shoulder with your hand as an indication for him to move, laughing with a roll of your eyes. “Glad you actually got to this point,”

He makes no resistance to your silent instruction, shifting to lean his back against a clear area of the table and watching as you rifle through the box to properly organise his horrible packing job. "I know you were all sick of me moaning about her. I still can’t believe she just up and left me like that."

“It was definitely a dick move, but if we’re being honest here she didn’t deserve you anyway,” You wave off his unspoken apology for talking your ear off for the last few months with your hand.

“I just thought we were really something you know? Then she up and leaves out of nowhere,” Buck sighs. He was sick of her, he was sick of the fact she’d left him with nothing but a half-arsed explanation and an empty promise of them staying in touch.

But sometimes he can’t help but reminisce on how she used to make him feel and believe that maybe she really was going to come home. “She was supposed to be the one, I can’t believe I was so stupid."

“Unfortunately Buck,” You reach over the table to grab the packing tape, it making a harsh noise as you rip off a piece to tape the - now neatly organised - box. “That how real dating works,”

"No, this wasn’t ‘real’ dating. Real dating doesn’t involve her leaving after she said I could move in, she didn’t even say a real goodbye, I had to find out that she wasn’t coming back from an Instagram post of her kissing some random guy in Thailand." Buck’s voice plainly displayed his emotional exhaustion.

He didn’t want to think about Abby anymore, but it was just so hard to get her out of his head when he really thought that their relationship was going somewhere.

“Head up mister,” You tap your middle and index fingers against the underside of his chin with a sigh. “There’s plenty more fish in the sea,”

Buck laughed exasperatedly. He hated that quote, it always felt so insincere. Then again that was probably because he’s used it so many times in the past when turning down his previous hookups who wanted a more serious relationship.

Now he was on the other end of it, and it just felt ironic.

“You just don’t get it, we were a perfect match for each other,” Buck exhales dramatically, turning his head up to the ceiling. "She was beautiful. She was kind. She was smart. Our sex life was perfect, she was exactly who I was looking for but she left. She just up and left."

“It happens unfortunately,” You shrug your shoulders slightly. “Especially with someone who was dealing with so many personal issues like she was,” You give up on your organising for now as you entertain Buck’s want to get everything off his chest.

“Looks like you finally got a taste of your own medicine hey?” Your attempt at lightening the mood a little is met by a roll of Buck’s eyes and a sigh.

You had a point to an extent, he’d never really dealt with a real breakup before even though he’d been with plenty of other women. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s gotta experience heartbreak at some point, it’s part of your character development,” You mirror the way he’s leaning against the dining table yourself, pressing your lower back against the wood with your arms crossed.

"I don’t think I needed that character development," Buck sighed once again, "I wish I wasn’t experiencing it right now. I just wish she’d call me or even send me something, anything. Tell me she’s not coming back properly you know?"

He’d probably try to convince her into a long distance relationship if she did call him. But he wasn’t going to tell you that part. He was supposed to be moving on.

“I deleted her number from your phone so… she’s not going to,”

“You did what?” You could hear the immediate hurt in Buck’s tone at your confession, demonstrated further by the way his eyes turned to you in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, you are trying to physically move on,” You gesture towards the cardboard boxes that are littered around the apartment containing Buck’s belongings. “But you haven’t mentally moved on, you need both otherwise you’re gonna crash,”

Buck hated that you were right.

You were always right.

You always knew what was best for him when he didn’t even realise what was best for himself.

"I hate that all you do is say the right things at the right time."

“It’s a talent of mine,” You nudge him gently with a smile, again trying to lift up the mood a little.

Sometimes he hated that you were so kind too.

Some twisted part of him wished that you would do something wrong, that you would say the wrong thing and give him an excuse to let out all of his pent up frustration without feeling bad about it afterwards.

But you never did. And he didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse.

Then he started thinking about Abby again, of course he did. She was like a parasite that had burrowed a little cavity in his brain and wouldn’t leave no matter how many times he hit himself over the head.

He’d never had a truly vulnerable conversation with her when they were together. Not without the sole focus being on her or her mother’s health. He couldn’t remember a conversation that they’d had that was actually about his problems.

He couldn’t hate her for that. Of course not. She was going through a lot. But it really put into perspective who was the primary giver of their relationship. And it’s starting to make him question whether it was authentic in the first place.

Did she see it as a proper relationship like he did? Or was she using it as a distraction from all of the stress she had looking after her mother all the time?

He didn’t even realise he was tearing up until a drop of water hit the back of his hand.

“Are you alright?” You turned your head towards him after noticing how he’d gone quiet, his head lowered to a point where you couldn’t fully see the expression on his face.

“I don’t know-” His words said one thing, but the way he shook his head said something else. He was very clearly not okay.

“Buck…” You sigh softly at his tone, sounding a little forced as if he was scared of his voice breaking halfway through his sentence.

“Can I have a hug? Please?” He asked his question hesitantly, no longer trying to hide the wavering in his tone. He felt stupid for feeling like this over something that was seemingly so trivial to him in the past, but right now he didn’t feel like doing anything but crying until he physically couldn’t anymore.

He felt even stupider acting like this in front of you of all people. You’d dealt with enough of his baggage already, and he didn’t want to do to you what Abby had done to him in essentially using you as a human diary.

You don’t hesitate in your answer at all. “C’mere,”

You barely even open your arms before the space is filled by Buck, his head hidden against the shoulder of your t-shirt to hide his expression from you.

You lean your weight fully against the edge of the table as you envelop him into a hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back in your best attempt at physically soothing him as he lets out a soft cry into your shoulder.

A fully grown man crying into the arms of someone half his size because he couldn’t handle a breakup. Who would’ve thought?

The longer you held him the less he felt like he had to be embarrassed about it. Somebody had his back, and he didn’t ever want that to end.

“You’re gonna be alright,” The hand that wasn’t gently rubbing soothing lines over his back cupped the back of his neck, holding his head securely against your shoulder.

You knew he was going to break down eventually. You were just glad he had someone present during it.

"Thank you," Buck whispered to you as he began to calm down, "Thank you so much."

Embracing you felt like home, the first time in a long time that he’d felt like he had support. Like he could be himself.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let go, and for the first time in a while he felt as if everything would be okay.

“Don’t mention it,” You make no move to pull away from the hug once he’s calm enough to speak to you again, content to wait until Buck was comfortable enough to pull away in his own time.

He didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon.

“Can we just stay like this forever?” Buck’s voice is muffled against your shoulder as he speaks, and he links his arms together behind your waist. “That would be nice,”

You laugh shortly at the question, your shoulders shaking slightly as you do and in turn jostling Buck slightly in your arms. “I think my legs would give out after a while, you’re heavy you know,”

"They’d get stronger eventually," Buck muttered, "We could work out together. I could train you."

Buck was enjoying this more than he wanted to admit but, as usual, his mouth spoke before his brain had a chance to control it. He was just glad that you hadn’t actually pulled away yet.

“You can’t train me to do anything if you won’t let go,”You continue to laugh softly at his proposition as your hand scratches gently at the hairs at nape of his neck.

“You can just hold me then,” He drops the idea almost immediately under the favour of staying securely in your arms.

He’d never hugged any of his friends like this before, although he supposes he’s never actually wanted to. But here he is nonetheless, and it was probably the most comfortable he’d ever been in his life.

He just wanted to stay in the little cocoon your arms provided him away from reality for the rest of his life, maybe longer than that. The only question was whether you’d entertain his idea of abandoning everything productive you were supposed to be doing so that he could satiate his desire to stay exactly where he was.

“Not standing up,” You shake your head against the side of his with a small chuckle. “My legs are already starting to hurt,”

“On the couch then? We can watch that movie you were talking about,”

“We still have packing to finish Buckley,”

“Tomorrow,” Buck shakes his head as he makes a move to separate himself from you, although not fully as his hands still lay carefully positioned on your sides. “I genuinely cannot do any more packing today,”

You raise an eyebrow at him and he tilts his head at you with a sigh. “Come on, humour me here I’m emotionally vulnerable,”

He slips one of his hands towards your wrist and gives it a small tug, his grip loose enough that if you wanted to pull your arm away from him you could do so with minimal effort. You don’t of course, allowing him to tug you forward until you’re not leaning against the table any more, your weight fully supported on your feet. “We can watch that movie, order a pizza and I can wallow in my emotions for a few hours until I’m mentally fit to continue packing,”

“Sounds like you’re just trying to procrastinate,” You furrow your eyebrows accusingly, but the smile on your face betrays your feigned scolding, just grateful that he was sound enough to joke about his own misery now that he’d actually had the chance to vent his emotions.

“Oh I definitely am,” Buck’s smile mirrors yours emphatically, and he starts towards the living room with your wrist in his hand so you’re ‘forced’ to follow him. “I hate packing, it’s boring and everyone always tells me I’m doing it wrong,”

[mylovesstuffs]

Jin version !

Request: May I pls request jealousy headcanons for BTS members? reader (she's not famous and has a normal job) thinks of them as just friends, cause she never thought they would have a crush on her but they do.Then one day they get jealous when she ignores them for her guy best friend (whom she has a crush on) so they force her to leave but can't confess because they know she only likes them as a friend? unfortunately I am not very good with handling angsty stuff 🥹 so it will be great if you could write some fluffier headcanons about my request

A/N: This is the first post of the series, I hope it's not as bad as I say 😭 it's not the best I know but I'll try my best to improve. I don't know why it didn't turn out like I hoped for.

series masterlist

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Jin always tries to be the reliable friend—the one who makes you laugh, gives great advice, and checks in after a long day. But lately, he’s felt like second place to your guy best friend.

He notices how you light up when you talk about your best friend. It stings more than he’d like to admit, but Jin tries to brush it off with jokes like, “Oh, should I start taking notes from him?”

You’ve canceled plans with Jin a few times now, always saying, “I promised g/bsf I’d help him with something.” He plays it cool but spends the rest of the day eating snacks in front of the TV, sulking and grumbling under his breath.

Jin’s jealousy doesn’t make him angry—it makes him hurt. He wonders what your best friend has that he doesn’t, or why you’d never think of him as more than a friend. Am I just not boyfriend material? he mumbles to himself. (Jin, my love, you're not boyfriend material unfortunately instead... you're a husband material)

He gets extra clingy the next time you hang out—offering to cook your favorite dish, teasing you more than usual, and even pulling out his dad jokes just to get your attention lmao.

When you’re with your guy best friend in Jin’s presence, he turns into the ultimate performer. Suddenly, he’s louder, funnier, and more dramatic—ANYTHING to distract you from your best friend.

One day, he snaps when you ignore him mid-conversation to reply to your best friend’s text. Jin blurts out, “Do I have to be him to get your attention?” It catches both of you off guard, and he immediately regrets saying it. *insert skeleton emoji here TT*

Feeling cornered by his emotions, Jin suggests leaving early from your next hangout. “I just remembered I have to be at the studio,” he lies, not wanting to see you fawn over someone else anymore.

He tries to convince himself he’s being selfish. She’s happy, he tells himself. That should be enough for me. But it’s not, and the ache in his chest doesn’t go away.

Jin throws himself into his work, making himself busier than usual to avoid thinking about you and your best friend. Other BTS members notice his uncharacteristic silence and try to pry, but he just brushes it off with a laugh.

One day, you sense something’s off. Jin has been distant—short replies, fewer calls, and even declining an invite to hang out. You confront him, worried you might have done something wrong.

Jin doesn’t confess outright but hints at his feelings. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not important to you,” he says with a sad smile. It’s the first time he’s ever let his guard down like this, and it leaves you speechless. (Obviously)

You spend the next few days reflecting on your friendship with Jin. You start noticing the little things—how he remembers your coffee order, how he texts you to make sure you got home safe, and how he always seems to know when you need cheering up.

The realization hits you like a truck: Jin isn’t just your friend. He’s the constant in your life, the person who makes you feel safe and valued in a way no one else ever has.

The next time you see him, you decide to test the waters by spending the day with just him. Jin is hesitant at first, worried you’re only there out of guilt, but your warmth and attention slowly ease his nerves.

1By the end of the day, you find yourself looking at Jin differently... like your feelings have finally been reciprocated. When he makes a lame joke, you don’t just laugh—you admire the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. When he cooks for you, you realize how much love he’s poured into every detail.

Jin doesn’t push you to admit anything, but the shift between you two is undeniable. It’s in the lingering glances, the subtle touches, and the way he prioritize you in his noised life. Neither of you says it out loud, but for the first time, you feel like you have a chance.

Closure: It ends with hope. Jin doesn’t need grand confessions; your actions are enough to show him you’re starting to see him the way he’s always seen you. And for now, that’s all he needs...

Now that you’ve started seeing him differently, Jin becomes even more attentive. He insists on cooking you meals, saying, A love as great as mine deserves a feast. He also gets flustered when you sneak up behind him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around him. His ears turn red, but he plays it off with a smug.

Jin loves teasing you about your newfound affection for him. He’ll smirk and you roll your eyes, but your shy smile gives you away every time, and he EATS IT UP.

He’s a natural flirt but doesn’t even realize it half the time 😭 Like when he adjust your necklace, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. It leaves you breathless, and he definitely notices.

He runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, but the way his touch lingers on your shoulder or arm feels a little more intentional these days.

Jin doesn’t try to be sexy—it just happens. Like when he’s focused while rolling up his sleeves (I'm sorry but I'm drooling) or wiping his hands on a towel, you catch yourself staring. He notices your lingering gaze, smirks, and says, “Like what you see?” (OF COURSE WE DO!!?!?!!!!!!!!!?!!)

Mornings with Jin are pure fluff. He’s sleepy and cuddly, pulling you back into bed if you try to get up too early. He mumbles, “Five more minutes,” but those minutes turn into hours because he’s so warm and inviting you can’t resist.

Now that he knows you like him, Jin is more physically affectionate. He’ll casually rest his hand on your lower back, tug you closer when crossing the street, or kiss your temple as he passes by. It’s subtle but so Jin coded.

Honestly, nowadays his cocky side is very attractive.

Jin in cozy sweaters is a problem. When he’s lounging at home in a soft, oversized knit, you can’t help but want to curl up next to him. He teases you for staring, but secretly, he loves how smitten you are.

He doesn’t openly flaunt it, but there’s something undeniably attractive about the way he carries himself. Whether it’s his low, rumbling laugh or the way he looks at you across the room, there’s a quiet intensity that leaves you flustered.

Kissing Expert™: Once you’re comfortable, Jin’s kisses go from sweet and soft to take-your-breath-away levels of intense. He’s got this way of cupping your face and pulling you in like he’s waited his whole life for this moment.

Jin being Jin, he’ll occasionally get dramatic about how much he loves you. “I’d battle an army of chickens for you,” he declares one day, and while you laugh at his comment, the sincerity in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

Even when he’s being playful or teasing, Jin’s actions always make you feel safe and cherished. Like holding your hand in a crowded place or softly humming a song while you’re together, every little thing he does says, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

[heliads]

Hi!

I love your writing so much!

I would love to request an angsty Strollonso fic where Lance gets into a crash and the team doesn’t tell Nando how bad it was and he finds out later from another driver and freaks out and goes to the hospital to see him. Maybe Lance has to calm him down and keep him from going after his dad or something.

This is my first time requesting so I hope it’s okay lol.

If you don’t get to it, no worries! Thanks!

'didn't get the call' - fernando x lance

masterlist

It’s race week. Things always get real during race week.

One would think that a couple decades of seasons of Formula One racing would prepare Fernando Alonso for the frenzy of a long weekend spent overseas, but he’s had ample time to determine the contrary. Sure, he’s gotten better at shaking off the nerves a little, sloughing off like an old scar the urge to run or lash out, but part of it still remains inside his lungs, rattling the tissue more than he feels is necessary. It’s race week. What’s the worst that could happen?

That same sentiment, however, doesn’t seem to apply to the rest of the paddock. Everywhere Fernando goes, he seems the same sort of tension bubbling to fury underneath everyone’s skin. The few gazes that dare to lift to his are strained, the undereye bags larger than usual. Even his race engineer seems skittish, and after a year of dealing with Fernando watching live race broadcasts while making overtakes and other various misdemeanors, Fernando has assumed that nothing could shake the guy.

Fernando tries to think about what could have possibly gone wrong to demand this level of response, but nothing comes to mind. In the end, it was, truly, just another weekend. Fernando had done reasonably well– a fourth place result, while frustratingly shy of a podium, is still a good result. Aston Martin as a whole has been down as of late, and even though they would rather appreciate the points boost of a podium, fourth position is still better than the points of sixth, or eighth, or not even getting points at all.

All in all, it had been a relatively decent race from Fernando’s point of view. He’d had some good overtakes, and provided some good defense against the challenging Red Bulls until they passed him like they do against every other car on track. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t mediocre, either. That’s Aston for you. That’s life.

In fact, Fernando had even felt so satisfied after the race that he’d gone ahead and asked how Lance had fared while he was turning his car towards parc ferme. It’s been a little indulgence that Fernando has allowed himself out of late, caring about his teammate. Call him overly cavalier, but this is, actually, quite a sign of change in Fernando, especially after the past two years at Alpine. Fernando hasn’t always been in the business of viewing his teammates as more than obstacles.

Perhaps that’s just a sign that he’s getting old, Fernando thinks fondly as he meanders towards his driver’s room. The apparently advanced age of entering his forties is making him sentimental. How charming. Then again, it’s something altogether different when one’s teammate is, well, Lance.

Lance.

Fernando had been careful when he first arrived at Aston Martin. Lance was the boss’ son, for one thing, and Esteban’s close friend, for another. Of course he would have to be careful. It’s not as if Aston Martin would be dramatic enough to fire Fernando if he let slip a critical comment of his teammate in yet another drawn-out press conference, but they’d probably retaliate with something below the belt, like a pay cut.

So he’d watched his tongue, and watched his temper. The only thing Fernando hadn’t kept in check was his heart. Maybe that was because he assumed he wouldn’t have to, that years of experience would have made him as cold as his teammate’s home country, but as it turns out, even a two time world champion can be wrong on occasion, and Fernando was wrong about Lance.

Fernando isn’t quite sure that he could put into words what Lance means to him. He’s not sure that he wants to try. Some things are best kept secret, hidden under the protective cover of supposedly forced team bonding and aggressively proud post-race interviews. Overcommitting to an overtake before you know you’ve got it can ruin a race. Spelling out in precise, heart-stopping red syllables what Lance Stroll means to Fernando could ruin his whole enterprise.

Even still, small things slip through the self-imposed barrier. Fernando squeezes Lance’s shoulders when they run into each other in the media pen and pretends he doesn’t notice how Lance’s entire body wracks the second Fernando touches him. He certainly doesn’t store that information away for later use. And, his latest vice, Fernando keeps asking his race engineer how Lance has done in the race, making it public that Fernando is interested. People know now. How daring.

This time, though, his race engineer had been surprisingly tight-lipped, mentioning only that he would have to get back to Fernando on that front. Usually, the background chatter from the pit wall is quiet so as to not distract the driver, but this time an uproar of static had cut through the engineer’s words, making it more difficult to make him out. There had been rumors of a red flag coming out on the last lap, but as it happened most cars would be able to clear without trouble, so nothing had been mentioned. His race engineer had also been silent on that front.

Who is Fernando to worry, though? If something bad had happened, he would have been informed. Fernando makes it a habit to stay aware. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be his teammate, and thus Fernando’s capacity for caring is significantly limited. He’ll put out a somber Instagram story later if his PR agent reminds him. All will be well.

The further he travels through the Aston Martin motorhome, though, the more uneasy Fernando feels. Everyone is rushing around, all speaking to each other in terse whispers that he can’t quite pick up. Fernando feels as if he’s the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by restless whirlwinds of deep green water.

This doesn’t make sense. Eventually, Fernando’s impatience gets the better of him and he stops one of the trainers, who’s been parked in a corner of the room and frantically texting so he doesn’t get in the way. The man practically jumps out of his skin when Fernando nudges his arm, he’s so keyed up. Strange. Also unsettling.

“What’s going on?” Fernando asks. The confusion makes his voice terse, it sounds like he’s a soldier out on a battlefield. He doesn’t even feel that worried, not yet, but from the way everyone else is acting, he feels as if he should be.

The trainer avoids his eyes. “Nothing,” he says evasively.

“Oh, and that’s why you look as if someone just shot you in the leg?” Fernando deadpans.

The trainer grimaces. “Alright, but I’m not supposed to tell you. Lance, uh, got in a crash. Last lap of the race. The engineers wanted you to focus on reviewing your data so you aren’t supposed to know about it.”

This is the part where Fernando should assure the trainer that they’re both on the same page and of course he won’t say a word about it, but a complete blankness has settled over his brain, erasing the ability to think anything at all other than the same question over and over again:  Lance crashed?

“What happened?” Fernando asks. He hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. “Was it bad?”

“Not bad,” the trainer says, but he’s still not looking directly at Fernando. “We’re still checking him out, obviously, but he should be good to go for the next race.”

He coughs pointedly, and this is when Fernando knows it’s time to move on. He’s been assured that his teammate will be fit to race next weekend, and as a hardened driver, that’s all he should care about. Still, as he walks back down the hall again, Fernando can’t convince himself to let it go. Would everyone really be this worried if it was just a small collision? They would tell him, surely, if it was worse. They would have to tell him.

Maybe they just don’t know yet, Fernando reasons with himself. Maybe they legitimately have no clue until Lance returns from medical testing. Even the most insignificant fender-benders can have lingering damage if your hands aren’t in the right place or something else goes wrong. Everyone could just be stressing until they hear back for sure that everything is fine.

Fernando returns to his driver’s room and shuts the door. He sits down absentmindedly in a chair. After about five minutes, it registers that he forgot to turn the light on. He’s not in total darkness, a window is half open, but Fernando can’t quite convince himself to try and flip the switch. Lance was in a crash. Lance is hurt, maybe.

It unravels Fernando down to the last stitch. Lance had been in the bike accident in January, Fernando is not unused to being in a situation in which Lance is hurt, but for some reason this feels far, far worse. He doesn’t like knowing that Lance isn’t alright. It unnerves him, like a car running with a mismatched tire. All of Fernando’s systems are off-kilter.

His phone pings by his side, and now Fernando’s the one who feels like he’s leaping several centimeters out of his chair. Running an absentminded hand through his hair to calm himself down, Fernando reaches for his phone to check the notification, but the message he reads does little to steady his spirit.

Mick Schumacher.

Why aren’t you at the hospital?

Fernando responds immediately.

What are you talking about?

Mick’s answer is swift and to the point.

Lance.

Instantly, Fernando’s blood chills.

They told me he was fine. Why is he in the hospital?

This time, Mick takes a while. Unable to take the pressure, Fernando gets up and starts pacing back and forth in the confines of his driver’s room. At last, Mick responds.

Bad crash. He’s been unconscious but just woke up.

Fernando is out the door before he even finishes reading the text. He’s still in his disgusting race suit, but the sweat will just have to keep cooling, because there’s no way Fernando is sparing so much as a second for anything but getting to Lance. He manages to ask Mick what hospital Lance is occupying while fishing around for his keys, and then he’s off, breaking what he’s sure are several speed limits and a myriad of traffic violations while he’s at it.

Fernando bursts through the door, feeling eerily like a guy out of a rom-com his older sister, Lorena, used to watch. He’s buff enough for the role, certainly, but nothing about this is movie material. Real life is ugly. People get into crashes and don’t miraculously walk out. Beautiful boys with dark eyes lie unresponsive in hospital beds and no one talks about it until it’s too late.

Mick is already in the waiting room and stands up when Fernando arrives. He takes in Fernando’s bedraggled appearance with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I did ask you to get here fast, but I appreciate your dedication to it.”

“Of course,” Fernando says distractedly. “How is Lance?”

Mick nods, again, the raised eyebrow. “He’s been asking for you. There are a couple of Aston Martin guys here, but they just kept ducking the question whenever he brought up where you were.”

Fernando makes a low, ugly sound in the back of his throat. “They did the same thing to me.”

Some of the tension leaves Mick’s face. “They really didn’t tell you, did they?”

“Not at all,” Fernando makes out. “Where is he?”

Mick tells him the number and points him in the right direction. “Be careful,” is all he says before Fernando is too far gone to hear him.

Fernando hurries down the hall. Some of the nurses make an attempt to stop him, but he just ducks around their questioning gazes until he’s knocking on Lance’s door. He can see a vague silhouette through the half-closed blinds, but it’s not until a faint, groggy voice tells him to come inside that Fernando can decide for sure that yes, this is Lance, and yes, Fernando should have been informed of this immediately.

Fernando shuts the door quietly behind him. He walks quietly to the chair, and he sits quietly, breathing quietly, looking quietly, until Lance rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not going to die if you act normally, you know.”

Fernando relaxes a little bit. “Who said anything about dying?”

“Not me,” Lance says, that smug smile starting to surface even despite the IV in his arm, the bandages across his chest, the–

“Stop looking at those,” Lance says unexpectedly, cutting off Fernando’s train of thought. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Fernando looks at him askance. “You sound like half your car is lodged inside your ribcage. Is that fine?”

Lance pulls a face. “Okay, I’m a little less than fine. It’s alright, though.”

“Tell me what happened,” Fernando says. He didn’t think it came out as an order, but instantly Lance straightens up even despite the constraints of the hospital bed and starts speaking, a faint blush on his cheeks. Interesting. Another thing to remember for later.

“There was a crash,” Lance begins somewhat uncertainly.

“So I’ve heard,” Fernando says, somewhat bemused. Humor is easier. It distracts him from the fact that Lance is lying here, practically lifeless, looking no more likely to move a muscle than get up and start running laps. It kills him, the inability to do anything other than sit here and crack jokes. This is not who he was supposed to be. Nothing about this is right.

Lance looks at him, playfully annoyed, and then continues again. “There was a crash. I don’t remember most of it. I was coming out of a series of turns, I think. Someone hit me. I don’t know who, steered right into me. Not their choice, I’m sure, but it took both of us straight into the barriers.”

His face contorts with confusion as he attempts to remember what happened. The lapses in memory startle Fernando more than he would like. “You must have gotten a serious hit to your head,” he says, unable to keep a grim tinge out of his words.

“That’s what the doctors said,” Lance confirms, grimacing. “I don’t really remember a lot between the crash and waking up here. They said I was out for more than half an hour.”

Fernando presses a hand to his face, dragging it roughly across the skin to try and wake himself up out of this terrible nightmare that has somehow become his reality. “All of this, and no one saw fit to tell me?”

Lance’s brow furrows. “Dad was going to make sure you knew. He told me that himself.”

All of Fernando’s grief leaves him a swift rush, replaced with blind fury. “Lawrence said that?”

At last, he has a culprit for why so much time passed before Fernando heard about this accident, and it was Lance’s own father. Disgraceful. As if Fernando hasn’t spent all of his time at Aston Martin trying to get in Lawrence’s good graces to promote the wellbeing of the team. As if he hasn’t held back on what he really wants with Lance in the name of good faith in the face of the team owner, and now this? Well. Maybe Fernando should have pulled his favorite card and simply done what he wanted in the first place.

He stands up before he realizes it. “Where are you going?” Lance asks, confused.

“I’m going to have some words with your father,” Fernando announces.

Lance’s face falls, and he starts trying to pull himself more into a seated position on his elbows. “Wait, no. He didn’t– he wasn’t trying to hurt you, Fernando, he just didn’t want you to worry.”

“The only thing I want to do right now,” Fernando informs him, “is worry.”

“Charming,” Lance says, then, in a voice verging on panic as Fernando nears the door, “Seriously, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“What wouldn’t be?” Fernando asks, deceptively calm despite the inferno boiling between the bars of his ribcage.

He’s already at the door. Fernando can see Lawrence talking on the phone in the waiting room, where Mick is eyeing him icily– he’s on the phone while his son is in the hospital, what an asshole– and he’s about to go out there and tell Lawrence exactly what he thinks of this, bystanders be damned, but then Lance’s voice comes again, soft and quiet, and Fernando stops, fingers resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Stay with me. Please.”

That’s all it takes to slow Fernando’s insatiable temper, as it turns out. Who knows how many managers and PR officers would have killed to get that information, and they’re only four words. Four words spoken by Lance Stroll, which makes the difference.

Fernando returns to his seat by Lance’s side. Lance looks distinctly pleased with himself. “I didn’t know you were so open to receiving instructions. I think I’m going to remember that.”

“You’ll forget this by tomorrow. Strong painkillers do that sometimes,” Fernando insists.

Lance’s lips curl into a catlike smile. “Sure thing, Fernando.”

Maybe he’s right after all. Fernando thinks that he might not ever forget the peace of a room when it’s just the two of them, how the heart monitor sharply upticks when Fernando reaches over to take Lance’s hand and both of them pretend they don’t notice it. Lance will be alright eventually. Wounds will heal, scars will fade, and a ferocious driver named Fernando Alonso will accept that the biggest chink in his forged-by-fire armor is a young man named Lance Stroll, and there is nothing wrong about that at all.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[orcasoul]

We Don't Talk Anymore

This is just a quick angsty drabble that sprang to mind late last night and I just had to write it down.

Summary: Din is struggling with his feelings for you, the woman he hired to be Grogu's carer. He never expected to fall for you, but he did and he fell hard!

Warnings: Angst, pining, use of Y/N. The Razor Crest has been replaced by a new one.

Word Count: 1,952

"For maker's sake, will you just talk to me Mando!" You didn't mean for your voice to come out so loud but frustration got the better of you. Standing in the cockpit of the Razor Crest with your fists clenched and throat constricting from fighting back the tears threatening to spill, you wait for his reply, any reply but instead all you got was a tense, towering wall of Beskar, unshifting, motionless apart from the rise and fall of his chest plate. Sometimes it seemed as though this impassive Mandalorian was just an extension of his ship, cold metal like the walls surrounding you. But besides his stoic display you know there is a man with feelings under all that armour. You've seen that man seep through the emotional armour he often resides behind when Grogu was in his care.

Gentle touches, soft chuckles, warm words and an endless amount of adoration for his little foundling revealed to you the real person Mando tired to suppress. After a while his aloof conduct towards you began to dissolve slightly too and you found him becoming more receptive to conversations, sometimes him being the one to initiate them. But recently he seemed to have retreated back into his armour and no matter how hard you tried to talk to him, to get him to open up, he would not allow even the slightest crack to materialise. "Have I done something or said something to upset you?-" "Of course not," he cut you off quickly. "Then what is it?" You pled, voice cracking. "You never talk to me unless you have to. Ever since our last visit to Nevarro you've been..... different." You exhale tiredly on the last word and hang your head as if you've been mentally defeated.

Din noticed how you deflated, he notices everything about you. How your eyes light up when something excites or amuses you, the little creases between your eyes when you frown, the gentle sway of your hips when you walk, and your laugh..... stars, it sounds heavenly to him! You are ingrained into his very soul. He's never been in love before but he knows without a doubt that this is the real thing. You are his everything. And that's the problem. He doesn't know how to tell you how he feels. He doesn't know if you would feel the same or if you would reject him. Din found it easier to ignore his growing affection for you while you were looking after Grogu. He was the priority for the both of you and having a shared responsibility made it easier for you both to connect.

Over time he noticed the conversations between you two had gone from being just about Grogu and his next quarry to more personal and private discussions (well most of the personal discussions were about you. He did share some of his childhood memories about his parents, and his early years with the covert but he never delved too far into his past). He enjoyed learning more about you, and the more he learned, the more his love for you bloomed. He hated seeing you hurting like this now and the worst part for him is knowing he's the one causing you this pain. But he doesn't know what to do or say in this moment. Should he reach out to comfort you? Should he just shrug your reaction off and tell you you're being dramatic? Dank Farrik, he doesn't know how to speak to you now that it's just the two of you with no distractions to occupy his mind.His thoughts drift back to that day on Nevarro...

Din watched you in the distance flitting from stall to stall, eyeing up all the local produce and bespoke clothing and jewellery while he sat outside a nearby cantina with Cara Dune. "So how's the little guy doing?" She asked Din while sipping her Spotchka. Din turned to her, a wistful smile breaking under his helmet. "He's actually doing very well. Last I heard he's managed to wield the force without it exhausting him." He couldn't help the pride emanating through his words at what his little one has accomplished in such a short time. "And I see Y/N is still with you," Cara smirked as she pointed to you. "Yep," Din replied casually, looking back over to you to make sure you were still in sight. When he turned back to look at Cara she still had that smirk plastered across her face. "What?" Din asked with a hint of confusion. "Nothing.... just thought you would have told her by now...." she trailed off while smiling into her cup.

"Told her what?" He knew what she was getting at but decided to play oblivious anyway. Cara rolled her eyes and let out a playful huff, "Oh come on, anyone can see how you two feel about each other." "I don't... she doesn't..... it's not like that." Din has never stumbled over his words before and he hated how small it made him feel. "Haven't you noticed how she looks at you? Seriously, can't you see it?" she pressed. "It's just.... it's not a good idea," Din huffed. "I hired her to care for Grogu. That was the agreement, temporary employment-" "And yet she's still here," Cara clarified. Din was silent for a moment. He hadn't thought about it that way. Why were you still with him? You've had plenty of opportunities to settle on a safe world, yet you seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He felt a spark of hope ignite from the fact that you stayed, and after what Cara had just said. Cara's next words brought a nervous lump to his throat. "You need to tell her, before it's too late." After a moment Din simply nods at her. She's right, he knows she's right but how in the kriffin hell would he even go about telling you that he's in love with you?

Looking up at Din with glassy eyes, you know what you need to ask, and you're terrified to in case the answer you get is the one that'll break your heart. But you have to know now. "Do you want me to leave? Is that it?" you questioned with a shaky voice, while Din's posture became even more rigid. "It's okay if you want me to leave, you only had to tell me. I know this arrangement was temporary. I understand if you want your home back." Din couldn't believe what he was hearing. Of course he doesn't want you to leave! If he had his way he would have melded your bodies and souls together, the two of you existing perfectly in unison for eternity. He opened his mouth to speak but words failed him, instead a strangled "Uh..." was all that escaped. The response was all that was needed to confirm your worst fear. He wants you to leave, he just didn't have the heart to tell you sooner.

Your mind told you it's perfectly understandable, after all you were only here to do a job but your heart cried out in anguish. You'd fallen hopelessly in love with this hardened Mandalorian and the thought of now having to adjust to life without him left your stomach in knots. You could almost feel your heart literally breaking apart inside your chest. Now you know what it means when they say love hurts. You had hoped he would stop you, cut you off with a declaration of love... oh you felt so foolish now. "Okay," You whisper sadly. "I'll get off at the next planet. I'll just...I'll go pack my things." Before Din could react you'd turned away and made your way down the ladder to the hull of the ship where your makeshift sleeping quarters are to collect your belongings. His fingers twitched anxiously at his sides while the rest of his body remained frozen to the spot. He can't let you go, not like this, not without you knowing the truth. Taking a deep breath he forced his legs to carry him forward, to where you are. He realises it's now or never.

As he descends the ladder he can hear the faint sound of weeping and sniffling. His heart aromatically constricted, replacing his blood flow with the need to console you, protect you, make everything right, just so he can hear that exquisite laugh of yours again. He never wants to hear or see you in such distress ever again, and you won't be if he can help it. Your back is turned as Din approaches from behind. He knows you can hear his footsteps and are deliberately avoiding him, focusing on packing away the last of your clothes into your backpack. "Don't go," Din begged quietly. "Mando..." your voice sounded exhausted. "I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore. I can't stand this constant silence between us." The tears were flowing freely now, your voice betraying that fact. "Please just listen to me. I can explain everything-" "Oh now you want to talk?" you deadpanned while turning to him. You didn't realise how close he was standing, his tall frame making you look up to meet his visor. "What could you possibly want to talk about?" Din's gloved hand slowly made contact with your cheek, the soft leather of his thumb brushing away a single tear.

"Us," he stated simply, yet at the same time his gentle caress told you there was so much more to his meaning. Your heart skipped a beat and you dared to hope. "Us?" you asked, perplexed. "Yes.... that's if.... if you want there to be an us. Because I do, Cyar'ika." You gasp and for a moment you thought you must be dreaming, but no this is real and the joy you feel now is enough to make you want to burst. Din's unexpected confession had instantaneously erased all of your sorrow and anger, like a wave washing over fire. You look lovingly into his visor and tiptoe to gain a little more height. You gently press your hands to both sides of his helmets' cheeks and bring his forehead down to meet yours in a keldabe kiss. You know exactly what this gesture means to him after he told you all about Mandalorian customs. It was Din's turn to gasp now, the sounds etching out a wide grin on your face. "Of course I do," you burst, while reaching for his hands. Din let out a shaky breath as you pulled your head away and you could tell he was smiling like a fool under his helmet, much like you are doing.

"I'm sorry Cyare. I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, but I will try for you and I want you to know how much I love you." You close your eyes and sigh in contentment, knowing this is the start of something amazing. When you open them again you ask softly, "What do those words mean? Cyar'ka, Cyare?" "Darling, sweetheart, beloved," Din cooed stroking your hair. "I love you too, Cyare," you repeated his native word back to him. Din felt a gush of pure ecstasy ripple through his body with your reciprocation. "Din," he breathed into your ear. "What?" you asked him with a confused smile. "My name is Din Djarin." Your smile quickly grew into one of affection and adoration. You know he doesn't usually give people his name and for him to give you this piece of himself just shows you how much he loves you. "I love you, Din Djarn," you purred passionately. "I love you too Y/N Y/L/N."

[azuredragoonterra]

Alright fuckers time for the most cursed shit you've read today.

Sonic characters replacing the Berserk cast.

Its litterally just Berserk but instead the characters are Sonic dudes. Fuck my brain for coming up with this.

(Also to clarify, I'm not trying to draw meaningful parallels between the characters here, I'm just tossing them into the fiction blender and setting it to 10)

Alright so Guts=Shadow is so fucking obvious I don't even have to say it. Who the fuck else is gonna be that angsty and tragic.

This means logically we need to make Griffith=Sonic. It might hard to imagine the blue blur in such a villainous role, but like, he's pretty hard-lined about his ideals of freedom and independence. I could see him wanting to build a kingdom outta that. (Also he was voiced by Jason Griffith like c'mon this shit writes itself)

Casca=Amy is probabaly hella controversial but hear me out. She needs to idolize Sonic but still be able to form a strong emotional connection to Shadow. Take the badass leader role she took up in the IDW resistance/restoration and she fits like a glove. (Before you ask, I'm not writing this to ship shadamy, I'm just sick in the head.)

Ok so Rickert has gotta be Tails right? Like we've got our little inventor fox, idolizes Sonic, but ultimately has to find his own strength. Oh and can you imagine the slap?! Oblitetate that blue twink you funky lil fox!

Nearly forgot Puck! Initially I thought all the elves would just be Chao but then I realized... he's Chip from Sonic Unleashed. Chip as Puck is nearly 1 to 1 honestly.

E-123 Omega can be Zodd, why not. Big murder man who wants a good fight...

Shit wait maybe he should be Zavok... fuck that makes so much sense...

The Godhand are all just gonna be various eldritch super sonic bosses. Chaos, Iblis, Dark Gaia, etc. Make Void=Infinite for bonus irony points in the name.

The idea of evil is The End

Femto will be played by Neo Metal Sonic. I love the idea that Griffiths transformation made him cold, inhuman, not himself. While still obviously being who he always was underneath. Also keeps with the rest of the godhand being final bosses. Jumping forward a bit, I think when he reincarnates he oughta appear as super sonic constantly.

Ok we got the ever-green characters outta the way let's get granular.

The band of the hawk as Sonic bitches

So I don't wanna put too many iconic characters in the band and the actually relevant characters are sparce so real quick...

Corkus can be Fang/Nack. Cus he's a weasley little bitch (affectionate)

To that end let's keep team Hooligan connected and have Pippin be Bark the polar bear.

Gaston as Bean? Dude I got nothing gaston was kinda just there

Judeau however? Espio. Knife throwing.

While we're in the golden age...

Minister foss is Orbot

Charlotte's uncle, the guy Guts assassinates? Dr. Starline

Queen of Midland... Rouge? I deadass have nothing else for Rouge.

You can probabaly guess who the king and Charlotte are but they are at the bottom of the list for dramatic / comical /gross out effect.

Guts JRPG party as Sonic bozos.

Farnese shall be Blaze. They've got an affinity for fire, confidence issues, noble status, and a religious affiliation (blaze as guardian of the Sol emeralds, close enough)

Serpico is definitely Silver then. His close relationship to Farnese/Blaze as well as somewhat whimsical attitude all line up well. And Silver's telekinesis lines up well with Serpico's eventual wind powers.

Speaking of religious affiliations, Azan can be Knuckles! Hes goofy but strong and devoted to his cause.

Isidro has gotta be Charmy Bee. No not JUST because hes an annoying little shit... also cus his bee stinger subs in well for a dagger.

Shireke is gonna be Cream the Rabit. Mostly this is an in-joke on Creams high power in gameplay, and it also let's her elf Comapnion be played by Cheese the Chao.

By extension to the above. Flora ends up being Vanilia. I ALMOST decided skullknight would he vector just to continue the milf-hunter crocodile joke but came up with something better.

Ok if you've survived this far let's get into the dumb shit cus ohhh I've got some dumb shit.

SkullKnight is Big the Cat. I want all of his ominous warnings in the dopeyist voice possible. Also when he pops his helmet open to eat a Behliet (chaos emerald) it turns out it's actually just froggy in there.

Eggman is the King of Midland, SAGE is Charlotte. I'm sorry for all of the mental images this may have conjured.

Speaking of awful mental images, Gambino is Gerald Robotnik tortured over the death of his Granddaughter Maria when she caught the plague after taking in Shadow. This of all things is the one thing my brain automatically re-writes to make less weird. They ain't fucking.

That said? Gerald did make a deal... a transaction one might call it, with a certain Black Doom in sonic itself... I'm not elaborating yall can figure it out, yuck.

Elaine, aka broken Casca, is mid 2000s Amy when she had no good character traits. (Except elaine is still somehow like a million times better.)

The moonlight boy is a sonic Chao

[inventedfangirling]

What goes on inside Pat's head in eps 6/7?

Or what happens when the brain rot takes over.

Alright so without further ado let me get into the fact that i can't believe this is the first time im seriously thinking about it but what the hell must have all been going through Pat's mind during that gap between their first kiss, their bet on the beach and even beyond that up to that post curry-feeding kiss after his dramatic re-entry as Riam?

What was all going through his head? We know he's confused and hurt and frustrated, but he also doesn't want to push too much, but he also wants to know what goes on in Pran's head real bad and then the resolution he gets is that Pran clearly seems to like him too, like a heck of a lot, and his extreme backtracking so far back they cant even have a conversation ironically goes to prove just how much Pran was going though and now they have a bet and on the other end there is a relationship....

....there is a relationship right?

We know pat is sure of his own feelings. He likes pran. He wants to be with Pran. He wholeheartedly wants to go all in. And while he knows Pran likes him back, he knows that pran isn't sure (at that point) if he wants to even go in, let alone ALL in. So then what must have been his mindset while being the goofy boy who was constantly on teasing mode?

What was behind that smiling exterior, because one thing that the usually confident Pat is insecure about is when it comes to Pran and especially given what happened after the kiss, he must have become at least a tiny bit more wary? (Not really though cos we know Pat is a simple straightforward guy, and he knows that nobody not even his Pran can kiss like THAT without feelings, a guy who goes for what he wants and often acts before he thinks but for the sake of my spiral lets pretend) So then behind that exterior what was his best case scenario? They start dating. But what was his worst case scenario cos for pran, we know he chose the worst (in terms of their relationship) way out cos that seemed like the only one until pat refused to leave without talking about it.

But Pat won't make that choice to cut off ties (why the heck would he) and now that Pran is ready for the bet, Pran wouldn't either right? But what if pran decides to call off the bet in between? He wouldn't but what if pat randomly has that thought...in some lonely/ insecure moment what if that is one of the horrifyingly depressing thought he has...what if pran likes him more than everything and even that isnt enough because he just can't bring himself to take that step somehow?

Where does that leave him? Did he even have a backup plan for what would happen if their bet didn't work out? If pran didn't come around? What was he gonna do? Were they going to ignore each other? Not talk anymore? Not play around any more? What if each time he comes to play, underneath all the mischief and fun what if there's that underlying fear of what if it's the last time?

What if it's the last time i'm in his room? What if it's the last time he offers to feed me curry? What if it's the last time I get to help him out with something? What if it's the last time he makes me dinner? What if it's the last time he comes close when i ask him to? What if it's the last time he traces hearts on my face? What if it's the last time i get to touch him? What if it's the last time he looks at me like that?

Are we even comprehending the level of angsty mess Pat could have been that whole time? But he wouldn't be the Pat we (think we) know and love. He loves and he loves loud and he isn't thinking too much beyond their competition and getting Pran comfortable enough to get into a relationship (i could write whole essays about the level of emotional intelligence Pat shows when it comes to Pran especially in episodes 6 & 7, thats not what this is about tho) BUT we all have bad days and negative doom spirals.. who is to say Pat didn't!

Of course it probably wasn't as bad or dramatic as i am making it sound like cos Pran does reciprocate and Pran is not at all attempting to hide (in the same way we see pre episode 6) his feelings for Pat or his investment in the bet but still as long as the bet was on, nothing was set in stone. And also let's not forget just how much it must have hurt when wai came to hand off Pran's guitar. Pran's guitar that Pat had saved and polished and kept safe for him. The one he ran after him, holding. The one he kept safe in his home. His one piece of Pran that he held onto those 3 long depressingly lonely years. And Pran just gave it away to Wai like that? Wai? WAI!??

Look at my poor baby sitting there all alone with his thoughts, his heart breaking little by little and even then staying silent just so that he won't create trouble for Pran. Who is gonna answer for all of that!??? huh?

* Ooh boy and here come those heart squeezes again I CANT DO THIS ARGHHHH *

And despite all that he kept a mostly cheery exterior, trying to keep it fun and light for pran as much as possible?!?

Not all undermining the fact that patpran did have a heck of a lot of fun during their bet era, several essays worth of fun and meanings to unpack but that's not the point of this post

Like i'm sorry but there is simply no better man (boyfriend). But also no cos 1. he's fictional duh, there is NO one like pat irl, he's just an impossible version of a man cos despite all his flaws he really did what he did and 2. its actually not healthy what he's doing is it? Repressing his anxieties and radiating joy, equally bad as repressing joy and radiating anxiety like pran was doing, but (argh to sweep it all under the rug the way i usually do unlike patpran who talk shit though and therefore ofc they ended up happy)...

Because of course despite their anxieties both of them knew they could trust in each other and in their feelings for each other, and yes they built that trust over the years but it also was especially given impetus during the bet era so the bet was eventually going to have only a happy outcome but human brains can be weird and can play tricks on you and i was just thinking of the possibility of a time when pat's brain may have tricked him into a whole spiral and what if the bet wasn't as fun for pat as i initially thought it was and now here we are.

[emmerrr]

Ooh, fooled around and fell in love sounds intriguing for the WIP game 👀

@toast-the-unknowing also asked for this one! i feel bad because it's not a pynch one, it's for aftg which i don't think either of you are in the fandom for(?). and it's not even a popular ship in that fandom!

but anyway, it's a kevin/allison fic that i'm going to make so much longer and more dramatic and angsty than it has any right to be. it's gonna sprawl many years -- within the fic, i'm hoping it's not gonna me years of my real life to write lmao -- and there'll be ups and downs, etc. i have fun with it every time i add to it.

anyway here's its very rough beginning:

Pinpointing beginnings can be difficult.   Was it just the flick of a switch, off to on? Or was it simply always there, simmering below the surface? How long were the roots in place before anything began to flower? Maybe it started and then stopped a thousand different times in a thousand different ways. Or maybe it started here, in a cabin in the mountains, Allison leaning dangerously over a railing and drunkenly pointing an accusing finger at any of her coupled up companions. “No fucking where I can hear it. It isn’t fair to those of us who aren’t getting any.” “Maybe if you ask Kevin very nicely,” Nicky said, his smile saccharine sweet.  Allison made an immediate audible noise of revulsion in response, but she didn’t miss the equally scathing look that crossed Kevin’s face at the idea. In her drunken state, she felt mightily offended, and was still scoffing even as Renee herded her towards their room. “The fucking look he gave me!” she blustered, grabbing her washbag to search for her make-up remover. “He should be so lucky.” “Mm-hm,” Renee hummed soothingly. Dan had followed them in. “Who should be so lucky? Renee, can I borrow some toothpaste? Me and Matt both forgot ours.” Renee nodded and passed it over. “Kevin, apparently.” Dan snorted. “Like you’d even ever want him anyway.” “Of course not,” Allison said dismissively. “I’m just saying, he didn’t need to look so disgusted at the idea, y’know?” “In fairness,” Renee said diplomatically, “you hardly reacted in a particularly…complimentary way either.” Allison pointed a finger at Renee in the mirror without turning around. “Whose side are you on?” She held up her hands. “I wasn’t aware there were sides.” “Allison, you’re drunk, you don’t need to fixate on this, it’s only Kevin,” Dan said, shrugging. “I know it’s only Kevin,” she snapped. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so irritated. In the mirror, she saw Renee and Dan exchange a look, equally knowing, although Renee wore hers with vague amusement, whereas Dan’s was vaguely horrified. Renee clasped her hands together. “Do you think,” she started slowly, “that you’re protesting just a bit too much? Overcompensating, perhaps?” Allison turned around in her chair and narrowed her eyes. There was no point in pretending she had no idea what Renee was implying. “Listen. It’s never gonna happen. Not in Kevin fucking Day’s deepest, darkest, wildest fucking dreams.” Dan let out a small sigh of relief, but Renee just smiled. “Sure,” she said. “But what about yours?” “When hell freezes over,” Allison said. “Maybe not even then.”

thanks for asking guys! sorry if it's for a fandom you don't care about, i should've written what they were for on the list!

[respheal]

Sadly I don't have much that's really Twilight-centric in my reading list, but here's my current list of recs (with Tumblr accounts where I can find em) in no particular order! I'm a big fan of a couple ships, Legend/Ravio (of A Link Between Worlds) and Four (Vio)/Shadow (of Four Sword Adventures), so several of these include those ships.

A Dark Among the Lights by @luckylectio (In progress) - Dark Link joins the Chain! Fucking hilarious narrative voice

Alterity by @toyouhellohowareyou (Part 3 in progress) - The Chain winds up in Legend's first adventure and meets Baby Legend (aka Lore), which turns into them figuring how to solve Four's upcoming Bad End

Fourfold by @gurlgallade (In progress) - Four post-adventures but pre-LU trying to figure out how to…not be a godsdamned mess. Very good character study!

The Wondrous Sword of Legend by @imperialkatwala and @polynomialpandemic - Hyrule found a very special talking sword when he was a kid :> (very very good Legend & Rulie content, the twist hits like a truck, def a fave)

An Emerald Ring by @not-freyja - Mutual pining between Legend and Ravio but they're disasters. Same continuity as This is an Adjuration

Faerule and the No Good Very Bad Road Trip by @imperialkatwala and @polynomialpandemic - Hyrule meets the Chain but he's stuck as a fairy at the time

The Scientific Method by @floof-writes (In progress) - Four, Legend, and Hyrule experiment with magic and accidentally invent Life Transference. And Hyrule gets stuck casting it. I'm currently going insane over some of the worldbuilding

A Curse of Blood by @tashacee - Hyrule's blood curse gets REAL BAD when not kept under control.

Links in a Chain @tashacee - The second fic, Untarnished, had me sobbing. The third fic is a fun little time loop murder mystery in Clock Town, and the fourth fic (in progress) just popped off in a big way and I've very here for it. Twilight also has some excellent moments and I ship him and Shad now.

willow bark and chamomile by @ssschrodingers-cat - Legend has never been more prepared for something in his life when the rest of the Chain get trapped in dreams. Dramatic character study but also there's an excellent running gag with linguistics

A Piece of Heart by @shearlin - Gift giving as a love language :'3 Very sweet. One of the fics that turned Legend into my blorbo

Doppelgänger AU by @starlight-eclipsed - post-LU Legend (Legato) rejoins the Chain in the middle of their adventure. He's fine :)

His Stolen Heart Still Beats - The Fierce Deity Mask is empty, and Time slowly pieces together why. Angsty!

Just Add Water @cheshire-cait-sidhe - Very interesting take on the curse of the mermaid's tail. Also angsty in a similar vein to the previous!

A cave like a net (and a spilled secret) by @lennsart - Legend gets trapped in an underwater cave, which would be fine except the mermaid curse progresses a lot more than it should

My Heart's Forsaken Me by @sisters-sideblog - Time accidentally picks up the Four Sword and gets split along his timeline

This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja - The damn fic that awakened the hyperfixation. Holy fuck crimes against the timeline. Ravio has a conspiracy board. The whole damn thing is a timeloop. What the FUCK is going on with Vio.

comma flirting by @caramel-catss - Mailed correspondence between Rav and Leg over a developing romance :>

A Pear and a Portal - Wind meets the Chain, but he's possessing a seagull at the time.

Fortuity by @toyouhellohowareyou and @whitewinterstar - Four gets caught in a ritual to resurrect Ganon and Shadow gets revived. Sweet lil Four/Shadow fic

Like a Bayonet Against my Throat by @silverne-nonsense - Platonic soulmates AU where a handprint appears on a person's body where their soulmate first made physical contact. Four's handprint is wrapped around Legend's throat (this ends up soft AF I promise and so so bittersweet).

Shadowed by @gia-d and @not-freyja - Something is very wrong(?) with the new guy, Four, and Wind is extremely sus about it.

Kisses and Shells (and the Sickness from Hell) by @cluelessmoose - A good sickfic! Legend catches a merfolk disease and it takes waaaay too long for the rest of the Chain to figure it out.

Heartbreaker by @cheshire-cait-sidhe - Legend/Ralph (of Oracle of Ages). Short fic of Legend and Ralph being absolute bisexual disasters

I'm also currently reading Steel Can't Carry Me Now by @elle-rosewater, which is Warriors-centric kiiind of pre- and post-LU but the rest of the Chain is haunting him (in a good(?) way). It's very good but it is long (which is why I haven't caught up with so many subscriptions ahahaha)

Fellow linked universe fans.. I am brand new here (as well as a brand new legend of zelda fan, as the only experience I had with LOZ really was the Nintendo Land mini games on the Wii U), please please share with me your favorite fics. It’s been almost a week since I stumbled in here and have like 6-7 pages of fanfic i have saved on ao3 that i’ve read through but I’d love some recommendations if you don’t mind 🥺

Currently playing through twilight princess for the first time rn as well and DAMN, I just got turned into a wolf for the first time im obsessed with this game.

[sunnyx07]

Hello I have a request for BSD about them having a dead s/o and they are like a ghost who can float and do stuff ghost can and stuff if that makes sense if you can good day/night <3

Request?: Yes Summery: Characters having a dead S/O Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi, Akutagawa Genre: Fluff, slightly angsty (mostly Dazai's and Chuuya's part, Mentions of death (Atsushi), be warned spoilers of Storm-bringer!)

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I had lots of fun to write this request ^^ Hope you enjoy it and I'll see you next time! <3

Dazai Osamu:

holy hell will this man make you help him with his pranks on poor kunikida-

like for real, this dude will grab u by the waist, look at you with the brightest puppy eyes and you can't help but to cave in.

He finds it so interesting you have the exact same traits as a real ghost, and for a ghost, you are the prettiest person he has ever seen.

He sometimes beg you to scare people by going through the wall and exit like you never existed (You also love to scare people its honestly very funny-

When you do it to him though, He'll dramatically scream like a little girl, making you embarrassed and him very amused (Cocky bastard-)

He does, however, when you two are alone in his apartment, Looking at you all admired as he hears all kinds of stories of people you meet.

If he told you about his past, He will slowly but surely give hints to let you know that he wants to know about Odasaku

You always smile gently while talking about Odasaku and what he told you to pass onto Dazai.

He will be very grateful to you if you ever did that.

Chuuya Nakahara:

Just like Dazai, He will be very interested into seeing you suddenly float around the mafia headquarters and see your ghostly powers in action

You tried scaring him once, did not end to well Poor boy legit broke his favourite wine glass, You had to fly away if you didn't wanna be a ghost twice-

He gently strokes your hair, even if it goes straight through, he really doesn't care at this point

Your ghost kisses always makes him chuckle

He does however, wonder about his friends, if you could see them too. He's to stubborn to ask though, but at some point, you figure it out and leave little things behind for him to find, Giving it as a signal that they are always with him and supporting his every decision

He always smile softly seeing those messages, making a mental note to Thank you for your hard work

Atsushi Nakajima:

This boy finds it so sad-

He loves you very much, but he just gets sad thinking you died cause of some stupid asshole or accident that caused your death.

He does however, always try to make you the happiest you've ever been when you were alive

You do help him out with missions, He doesn't get worried about you getting hurt since everything can go through you, so you always go first, Looking around the area if he's not in danger by any sort of threats.

At home you guys always talk about whatever you want to talk about, It sometimes leads to Atsushi Falling asleep while you gently tucks him in.

This boy has a whole lot of love in store for you

Akutagawa Ryunosuke:

Honestly, would be slightly surprised you would date him, and more surprised you would stick to him even when your dead

Little cold in the beginning, doesn't trust you too much. but slowly he warms up to you, trusting you a little bit more in life

But he definitely hates you when you scare him

His ability would've killed you by now if you weren't a ghost-

Besides that, he would ask you to check on anything that isn't suppose to happen, and you happily obey

Besides his cold Façade, you saw his sadness about you being dead, but luckily for both of you guys, You always had each other

He loves you, in his own stubborn way.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Shenanigans 7

(Alternative universe part 2/3)

Part 7 (or Alternative Universe 2/3)

Bakugou Katsuki and the case of the missing Menace

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Author’s note: the part got too long so I separated them to 2 parts! The last part will be out in a week, it’s already finished!)

If you are new to the story, start here!

The alternative universe chapters can be read without knowing the full story, start here, if you are interested, it’s really fun! It’s going to be a 3 parter.

Warnings: Foul language, reader’s thoughts get a bit angsty at one point, one inappropriate joke, Bakugou makes fun of gay people, but he’s a massive supporter so he’s allowed.

16+ for safety (just like everything I write.)

Summary: Mr. Katsuki is “NOT” worried about the Menace (you) being gone. Reader gets to know Bakugo, Deku, Todoroki and Kirishima in the new world, where quirks are non-existent.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Meanwhile in the real world…

“This is all your fucking fault, Deku!”

“Kacchan, calm down. Let’s go with the police to get some information about his quirk.”

“I’m not fucking moving from this place. Y/N can come back any moment!”

“So you do know her name after all…”

“Shouto, you are my best friend, but if you say a single word from now on I’m going to Texas smash you in the balls.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Deku?” You mumble incredulously, eyes wide, mouth open. You gawk at the blonde nerd on the other side of you; you are met with crimson eyes you know so well.

“Bakugou Katsuki?”

This is ridiculous. This can’t be real. This guy can’t be…

“Do you know us? Are we friends? Please, tell me you are Kacchan’s wife from the future!”

“You rewatched Back To The Future without me, you shitty nerd!” Complains the blonde, clearly offended by his traitor of a friend. “Also, are you my wife from the future? I hope you are.” The blonde sighs.

“Kacchan…” Deku pats his friends back apologetically, and Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t pull away.

What the hell is going on.

Honestly.

“I’m … not your wife, I’m afraid. More like the opposite.” You stutter. “You kinda hate my guts.” You sigh. “But wait… why are you not freaked out?”

“Well…” Deku is about to start rambling, but Katsuki is not having it. At least, something didn’t change.

“This fucker is the biggest conspiracy theorist the world has ever seen.” Sighs the blonde, his arms resting on Deku’s shoulder in case it’s not clear that he’s the culprit. “When he hears a weird story, he shuts himself off for a day and does a full research on the topic like a freaking pervert.” Bakugou answers while nodding to himself. He makes it sound like he’s moaning, but his facial expression is also proud; it looks like he’s actually really happy to have such a weirdo as a friend. You find this so adorable, you start giggling; but for your surprise, you are not being told off this time.

“There is a theory about another world.” Butts in the greenette with an enthusiastic face. “I found several stories about people turning up in random places, not knowing anything about the current president, our celebrities or anything, but they did know some people in the area by name, even though the other person had no recollection of knowing them at all. These people looked traumatized, like they’ve been in a fight or something, rambling about their ‘quirks’ being gone.” Deku rambles while Bakugou yawns dramatically. “These people usually disappear into thin air after a day, then we never hear about them ever again.”

A day…?

“So you mean… if your research is right, I’ll go back to my world in 24 hours, automatically?” You ask with sparkling eyes, clearly excited about the fact that there is an easy way to go back “home”.

Needless to say, if being far from home is already terrifying for some, being in another dimension is down right horrifying.

“By my research, every single person disappeared after 24 hours, yes.” Answers Deku with a serious expression on his face. “But keep in mind, these aren’t official statements. I don’t know which story is real and which one is a lie made only to get famous on the internet.”

“I’m glad you are aware of how much crap you are reading every day, Izu. I thought you went completely bonkers, but seems like there is still a tiny bit of brain left in that empty head of yours.” Smirks the blonde and gives you a hand to help you up. “Let’s sit down properly, being seen with Deku is already a big enough hit on my non-existent reputation, knowing my stupid classmates, I’ll be a ‘sexual offender’ the next time I step in class if they see us like this.”

Oh, so Bakugou isn’t the coolest guy in the class in this world? Wow.

“Yeah, god forbid someone thinking I’m actually straight.”

Deku said the word “straight” like it’s the biggest slur the world has ever seen, and you can’t help but laugh out loudly.

“You are so funny, Deku.” You giggle as you make your way to the nearest picnic bench. By the look of it, you are in the middle of a University lot.

“Am I not funny in your world?” Asks the green nerd with a bewildered expression on his face.

“You are not funny. You are just gay.” The blonde rolls his eyes, but there is no edge to his voice.

“You are rather adorable, I would say. And less… uhh… gay.” You ramble awkwardly. Is it okay to disclose this information with these people? Technically, it should be fine as you are in another world, not in the past, so TECHNICALLY, it’s shouldn’t harm anything.

Or…

Can this conversation change their future in some way?

Fuck, you have no idea.

“If you tell me I’m a closeted gay virgin at my humble age of 25, I’ll leave with you and smack myself in the face with a pink dildo.” Deadpans Deku while sitting down on the bench on the opposite side of Bakugou. You sit down next to the blonde, who can’t stop giggling like a child. Would it be rude to take this adorable Bakugou with you and ask the villain to send yours to this world forever?

“I’m also coming then. I need to see that.” He declares.

“If you wanted to see me smacking people with a pink dildo so much, you should have just asked.” Teases Deku with a mischievous look on his face.

“Thanks. Now you ruined it.” Bakugou suddenly stops laughing, his face contorted into a frown. Now he resembles your boss so much, you kinda start to miss him. But only a little bit.

“Why are we talking about pink dildos when the sun is still out?” Deadpans a new person from behind you. You look up at the new arrival.

“Todoroki-kun!” You greet the newcomer.

“Who is this lady and why does he know about my existence?” Deadpans the guy and makes his way to Deku’s side; he plops down EXTREMLY close to Deku with a glint of possessiveness in his otherwise cool eyes.

“Shou!” The nerd beams like the fucking sunshine, looking at the other like he is the best thing that have ever happened to this world.

“Jesus, get a room.” Mumbles the blond, clearly not fond of the cheesy interaction. Deku starts blushing like a tomato and moves away from his… boyfriend? Crush? Friend? You have no idea.

“I do have a room, it’s next to yours. Are you okay, Katsuki?”

Okay, this guys is even more clueless than the one in your word, and that’s terrifying.

“So you guys live together?” You change the subject; your heart can not take more of their shenanigans right now. You will never be able to look at Deku and Todoroki without shipping them like a bad fujoshi.*

* Fujoshi (腐女子) is a Japanese term for female fans of manga, anime and novels that feature romantic relationships between men.

“Hell no!” Comes the answer from the blonde, but he sighs when he sees your confused face. “We are living in the dorms here, at UNI. So technically, yes, we do live together.”

“Still studying?”

“We didn’t go to UNI right away and went to America for 2 years to piss off Shou’s asshole father.” Deku grins at you with a proud expression on his face. “Shou and I went to a different gay bar every week and posted about it on Instagram.” Deku continues and you can’t help the smile on your face when Todoroki looks at Deku fondly, clearly in his own world, reminiscing about the lovely memories.

“The guy is a massive homophobe.” Explains the blonde.

“It’s okay now. My parents divorced and I haven’t heard a single word about the old man for 10 years now. I can also study the way I want and do whatever I want…”

“And whoever you want.” Giggles the greenette and Todoroki blushes aggressively, clearly not impressed by Deku’s stupid joke. “Oh, by the way, what is a “quirk?”

So this is why you have no power in this world… because there isn’t any.

The more you hear about their world, the more sorrowful you get; seeing these people all giggly and happy with zero trauma in their lives makes you do a double take on how “good” it is to live in a world full of powerful people.

Deku in your world is so busy saving people and being the world’s best hero, he probably never even gave his romantic preferences a thought. Todoroki was severely traumatized as a child which made him emotionless and empty; and while the person sitting opposite of you resembles the hero you met in your world, this version of him is much more caring, much more himself, much more open to others… he’s free and happy, surrounded with friends he’s fond of.

You don’t even want to think about Katsuki right now; seeing this version of him only makes your heart ache for the hero and it makes you understand him a little bit more; with no quirks in this world, he had no reason to be so cocky and so full of himself, hence why he still has Deku close by his side, one not a whole without the other. With Deku’s constant presence in Bakugou’s life, and Bakugou actually caring about the other’s opinion, he ended up growing up nicely; he still wears his emotions up his sleeves, but there is no reason for him to be untrusting and angry at the whole world.

This version of Bakugou wasn’t corrupted by the fucked up hierarchy of your world; where weakness is a deathly fault, and the one born weak is nothing but a cockroach for the powerful people to step on.

As someone who was born with a great power, the ugliness of your world this didn’t really sink in… until now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Meanwhile in the real world…

“24 hours.” Says a calm voice in the receiver.

“You are fucking kidding me, you half and half bastard.” Sneers the blonde, still not able to do anything than to stare at the empty space in front of him.

“Katsuki, I fucking tried to freeze his balls to get some intel, and this is what I got. Even if there is a way for him to bring someone back sooner, he’s an absolute dumbfuck, as you would say. There is no way he’s able to bring her back before the time ends.”

Katsuki has never heard Todoroki this mad. Never. He’s not even sure it’s him talking in the receiver at all.

“Where is she now?” Katsuki grumbles under his nose, because he’s already shown enough emotions to feel like an absolute weakling, he’s not going to dig his own grave deeper than that.

“By the previous witness statements, she is safe. It seems like his victims were sent to an alternative universe, to a world without quirks. All of the victims had the same experience.” Shouto’s voice goes back to his usual, unemotional tone, head clear, mind calm. “The quirk itself is harmless and was only used to make the battle easier by getting rid of the leader or the strongest person in the enemy team. The biggest injury in the statements was a bruised rib and a backache from falling down on a hard surface.”

“Kacchan, 2 hours has already passed. We will come back in 20 hours and wait for her to come back, okay?”

Of course, fucking Deku is worried. Of course he have to make him feel like a child in the middle of a tantrum.

“Don’t fucking baby me.” He grumbles and stands up from the floor; even when walking back to the car, he can’t peel his eyes away from that empty spot on the floor. “Fucking menace and her fucking shenanigans…” The hero mumbles under his nose as he moves further and further away from the battlefield. “Can we stop by a pet store?”

When the menace comes back, her work attire will get an upgrade; a shock collar, and a leash.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“What made you so sad all of the sudden?” Bakugou’s hand on your shoulders jerks you out from your thoughts. You don’t know when you started tearing up. Bakugou’s fingers slowly caress your cheeks in an attempt to clean up your messed up face, but the soft touch only makes you cry harder; suddenly, you are reminded of your hero in the real world, who’s nothing but rough touches and aggression, but under his strong facade there is this man hidden; the man who cares about everything and everyone and has biggest heart the world has ever seen.

“Oh no, Bakubro made the pretty lady cry!” A familiar voice joins the conversation again. This time, it’s a bulky guy with a basketball in his hands, his hair black with red highlights. He looks familiar, but…

“Not now, Ei.” Shouts the blonde, his arms on your shoulders protectively.

“Kiri…?!” Your mouth was suddenly covered by the blonde’s other hand, his gaze encouraging you to… well… shut the fuck up.

Okay.

That’s weird.

But it’s okay.

“Well, sorry for disturbing then.” Kirishima steps back, not wanting to poke the sleeping bear too much. He’s a clever boy. “Are you okay, tho? Do you want to leave?”

Even if he barely looks like the Kirishima from your world, he’s just the same personalitywise; always there in the time of need, caring and full of smiles, a real hero in the world without any.

Bakugou’s hands leave your mouth, so you are able to properly answer this time.

“I’m okay. I just had a bad day. Nice to meet you though!” You give him a wobbly smile, which is reciprocated right away.

“Don’t mess this up, she’s a cutie.” Kirishima fake-whispers then winks, and for your surprise, Bakugou’s ears turn red in only a few seconds.

“Oh fuck off, hair for brains!” He snaps at the other, who’s not even trying to hide the massive smirk on his face.

Is Kirishima… bullying Bakugou?!

“I’m going, I’m going!” He laughs loudly, but makes his way to the other side of the outside area. “Oh, and I love you too, nerd! Don’t forget the movie night on Friday!” The jock yells from far away, making Deku giggle.

“Yes, boss!” The greenette yells back.

Bakugou looks at you with trepidation.

“Please, tell me I’m not friends with this fucker in your world as well.” He sighs, ready to have his heart broken. Oh, poor boy.

“You are best friends, actually.” You answer, your hands scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. The blonde sighs into the distance, already done with his life after the terrible news.

“How did I end up with him from all people?”

“Shared trauma.” You answer easily, not even thinking twice before the sentence is out of your mouth.

“Sounds lovely.” Chimes in Todoroki, with a smug look on his face. “I guess that leaves this green potato as my best friend in your world?”

Oh, so that’s what the smug face was about; he doesn’t even care about the fact that Deku is having an absolute meltdown next to him after the news.

“Kacchan is not my best friend…” he mumbles under his nose, his eyes looking more like the eyes of a dead fish than an actual human’s.

“You are still close in your own fucked up way. And yes, Todoroki and you are really close to each other.” You try to ease the tension, but by the look of it, you just made it worse. Bakugou sighs again, his face on the table, looking like a zombie, Deku bites his nails with a face of a lunatic, and speaking of lunatics, Shouto looks at you with the face of a psychopath; his eyes are huge and hungry for more snippets of his other life.

“How close?” He asks, his eyes staring into your soul in a really creepy way.

“I can’t do this, jesus fuck.” Bakugou tries to knock himself out of his misery by constantly banging his forehead to the hard surface of the picnic table.

“Best friend kind of close?” You’ve never been this terrified in your life, to be honest. His look is almost predatory until your answer reaches his ears, then there’s nothing in his eyes but pure disappointment as he slowly goes back into his old, emotionless self.

As the time goes by, the guys decide to continue the talking in their shared dorm; they decide to use Shouto’s massive bedroom for today’s the pajama party.

Cuz that’s what this is for them, apparently. A fucking pajama party with this random lady from another world.

-> Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I’m so excited for the next part, guys! It may or may not contain a slightly drunk, slightly over sensitive Katsuki 😂 💜

Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai @nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

[ahundredtimesover]

The Love After (01)

01: The Love Taken Away

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex!Yoongi x Reader

Genre/Tags: werewolf au; beta!jungkook x human!reader; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: minor character death, grief and loss, depression, thoughts of one’s own death, animal attack, descriptions of wounds and injuries, use of sex to cope, sexual content (first times; fingering, breast play, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 21.4k

Mini-Series summary: Every werewolf has a fate, interpreted by Amma and guided by the Moon. In this world, there are 2 Supreme Fates fully determined by Her - serve in the Wolf Warrior Clan or find your True Mate. You and Jungkook have neither. You both lost the loves of your lives to live out their Supreme Fates and it’s why you both hold resentment towards the mating system. Until the Ceremony happens and you and Jungkook are fated to each other, connected only by heartbreak, pain, and the long lost belief that you could ever love again.

A/N: Hii it’s here! This was a challenge to write but this long ass fic with dramatic situations werewolf story that’s heavy and angsty more than anything gave me so much satisfaction and much to reflect on. This first part sets up the background and history in between conversations so apologies if there’s a lot to process! Should you choose to read it, thank you. It heavily deals with loss and grief and if you’re someone who’s experienced it, I’m sending you lots of love.

Series Masterlist

Your grandfather loved reading you tales when you were a child, especially the ones about the lovers and the dreamers. He thought they were the greatest of stories; he believed in the great love that everybody was destined to.

He was a romantic that way, and you knew it had everything to do with your grandmother and the love they shared when she was still alive, something he still nurtures and lives out, he said.

As you grew up, you understood; you were able to live through the beginnings of your great love story with the man you knew was the love of your life. 

But you wish your grandfather also read you tragedies, though; that way you could’ve been prepared for the real world outside of your storybooks. Not everyone is destined for a great love story, you’d learn, or it doesn’t last long. Not for you, at least. 

To know love and to lose it - perhaps there’s no greater pain than that.

You fold your last remaining sweater and tuck it in the luggage bag with the rest of your things, good enough for what you hope would only be a week-long trip back to your hometown. 

It’s a place you only go to once a year, at least ever since you left for the city 3 years ago. You’re glad that your family visits you here every few months, although not because they fully approve of your move, but more because they miss you; life isn’t the same without you there, they’d said.

As you zip your bag, you hear the bickering outside of your tiny studio apartment, and that’s how you know they’ve arrived. You go to the door once the bell rings.

“Hmm, you’re on time,” you say, unamused. 

“Driver Taehyung at your service,” your friend bows at you. “I couldn’t let the guy who drives so slowly nor the girl who’d fight every car that overtakes her take the wheel,” he says, cocking his head to the right then left, referring to Jimin then Mi-rae.

This earns you a hushed laugh, although the other two aren’t that delighted.

Jimin, your cousin, approaches you for a hug. “Glad you’re at least ready and packed on time this time,” he smiles, eyeing your things. “No delaying tactics anymore, I see. Is this progress?”

You roll your eyes at the subtle jab, although you don’t refute. You’d welcome any delays of going home, whatever they may be.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jimin. Watch her take her sweet time at the cafe on the way later; you know she’d push it,” Mi-rae, your best friend, laughs as she hugs you, too.

“This happens every year, get used to it,” you grumble, taking your bag and getting ready to leave.

“Did you have a guy over?” Taehyung stops your movement.

You stare back at his curious eyes. “What did I tell you about not using your superhuman ability when you’re here?” You scowl, referring to his heightened sense of smell because, well, that’s one advantage he has as a werewolf over you, a human. 

“___, I merely had to tilt my head to see a man’s boxers hiding underneath your bed,” he corrects, prompting you to turn towards that direction. “But yeah, well, I can smell him, too,” Taehyung continues, sniffing the air. “He doesn’t smell that nice.”

“He smells like sex, Tae,” Mi-Rae, also a werewolf, sniffs out your room. “You act like you don’t know what that smells like,” she smirks, flustering her boyfriend.

“Yeah, but he smells like the city, is what I mean,” he explains. “How can you manage that, ___?”

“Well, I can’t smell him the way you two can, obviously,” you groan, scooping the undergarment with a plastic bag then tying it. “That jerk really thinks he could leave this shit here and come back for another round.”

“Well, will he? Will you let him?” Jimin asks. 

“No, he was alright. The guy the other night was better,” you shrug.

“There was another one?!” Taehyung shrieks, as you all head out and you throw the boxer-filled plastic bag in the garbage bin outside your building. 

“You don’t have to act appalled,” you roll your eyes. “Plus, what’s wrong with it? It’s literally like my bachelorette party or something. I’m enjoying my possible last few days of freedom because who knows what’s gonna happen when I get home? I might not have this kind of fun ever again.”

You all enter the car and the three already know where this conversation is going, but they let you continue anyway. Aside from knowing that there’s nothing they can do to change how you feel about the Ceremony, which is the only reason you take the 6-hour trip back home once every year, they also can’t blame you for it. 

“I’m not appalled. I just…” he trails, getting a look from Mi-Rae saying not to push it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

You brush him off, saying he doesn’t need to apologize. You get where he’s coming from, though. As a werewolf who never spent more than a few hours outside of the town where his wolf pack and your human clan reside, and as one who found his mate before they even knew they were mates, Taehyung has a different approach to things.

The four of you grew up together. Jimin is your only same-age cousin, who’d gone to your town’s community school with Taehyung where your mother still teaches. Mi-Rae’s family came from a pack that dispersed and they were welcomed to your town and into Taehyung’s pack 12 years ago. She was your neighbor, and you were a quartet of 13-year olds then who enjoyed running about in your large garden and occasionally venturing out to the nearby town to watch movies and play arcades.

Taehyung and Mi-Rae grew close, the latter’s playfulness a perfect match to the former’s innate curiosity and innocence. It wasn’t a surprise when 2 years ago, they were matched during the Ceremony of Fates, an annual gathering of the town composed of your clan and the wolf pack where Amma, your great leader and Interpreter of the Moon, announces those who are fated as mates.

Your two friends hadn’t known love and intimacy outside of the other, hence Taehyung’s reaction to you having sex with the men you meet, surprisingly, at the library where you work at. Your friends had known this for a while, something you brought yourself to do after a year of living in the city - it was your way of coping, you’d said, and well, loneliness and heartbreak could do that. 

It was never serious, though. You never kissed them either. They were a warm body, a means to sate your needs. But deep down, you knew they were more of a distraction, or maybe, a reminder that you were still capable of feeling anything other than anger.

Perhaps it’s the idea that you’d been doing it days before the Ceremony that Taehyung is uncomfortable with. You’ve been attending since you were 18, as all werewolves and humans in your town are asked to, since it’s the age where both creatures are said to have reached the level of physical maturity for the act that mating would require, although you’ve never heard of anyone being announced as fated to a mate at that age. 

Emotional maturity is an altogether different thing, you’ve been told, as one must be ready to spend the rest of their life with someone. You agree to a certain point, although you don’t think you’d ever be emotionally ready for a mate, not again, at least.

You mentally shake your head, not wanting to think much of it. You know at the end of the day, Taehyung respects you and your decisions. Jimin and Mi-Rae have always understood, supported you when you needed them to, even if you know deep down, they want you to give in, to surrender to the ways of your people, no matter how much it hurts you. 

You don’t actually oppose it - this has been a practice for centuries, rooted in history and has proven time and time again that it works. You’re a product of it, so are Jimin and most of the town’s residents. But it’s that same practice that broke your heart and left you shattered, so it’s difficult to have faith in it again. 

And as much as you want to argue that it’s all a hoax, you also know that’s not true. Your being is tied to that practice - it’s why you all exist in the first place.

Centuries ago, your ancestor clan - forced out of their land by colonizers - looked to the Moon for guidance, and found the land nestled at the foot of the mountains. They built the town and was one with nature, revered the Moon for its beauty and enlightenment, and took what the land had to offer, and gave in return. 

Led by a matriarch - Amma - who embodied wisdom, physical strength, love, and leadership, the town thrived. When a wolf pack that was on the verge of annihilation due to human hatred approached the town because the Moon guided them there, the clan accepted them, took them as their partners and their children to mask them from the hunters. 

The wolf pack settled in an area nearby, keeping their distance from the humans, but not long after, a disease hit the clan, leaving Amma close to death. The pack Alpha, who’d been unable to return to his human form because his wolf had taken over out of anger and hatred, felt pity. 

He respected Amma and wanted her to continue to lead, so he bit her for immortality and healing, something only Alphas hold and can pass to others. Staying in his wolf form, the Alpha stood as her protector, as they led both pack and clan to make up the town that sits far away from the dangers of human greed.

Because of how everything fell into place, the belief and trust in the Moon strengthened and Amma felt a stronger connection, as if the Moon speaks to her, and she interprets what the Moon says. 

So every year, on the 10th month of the year when the cold starts rushing in and the trees start turning burgundy and gold, on the night when the Moon is at its brightest, the Ceremony of Fates happens - mates are blessed, regardless of who they are. With both species losing many of their own, this custom ensured balance and that their populations would live on, something you’ve heard only your town practices. 

And it’s why you’re here, why you’re all here. The practice has never failed. The Moon is never wrong, you’re always told. 

Doesn’t mean you never question it, though. 

“Not that I think Amma is wrong but what if the whole belief is just… I don’t know, antiquated?” You speak up after half an hour of driving has passed and everyone has settled in.

“Why do we have to be with someone? Why can’t we just live alone and die alone and just have pet birds or something?” You ask.

Jimin doesn’t miss the hint of longing mixed with bitterness of your voice. 

“You can. I mean, you left and no one stopped you. Well, Mi-Rae tried but that was out of selfishness,” he continues, earning him a pinch from her place at the passenger seat. 

“Not even Amma requires you to attend the Ceremony but you come anyway. You can always leave for good and never come back, but you do anyway. Why is that?”

Something always pulls me back, you don’t say, but you don’t need to. 

“Something feels missing or lost, doesn’t it?” Jimin answers for you, knowing you too well. “Like a part of you hurts when you’re away too long - from us, the land, even the Moon - and that’s why even if it aches, you return.”

You sigh in agreement, not wanting to verbalize it. The fates, much as they remind you of what you lost even if they’re meant to gift you your mate, bind you to the land, to nature, to your existence. 

It hurts, all of it - the memory, the loss, the future you could have, but oddly enough, it’s home that somehow soothes it. 

“Looks like my plan has been working though,” you say after a while. “I’ve managed to not be matched for 2 years now. It helps when you’re not around and Amma can’t actually see you be with anybody.”

It’s a trick you learned from your uncle who runs the library you work at. He left at a younger age than you did, the life in the city much more exciting for him. While not being around merely delayed his matching with a mate, it was still time he had for himself. 

You think that’s what you need more of - time to heal, to accept, to move on. Maybe then you could be ready because you don’t think you are, so it’s a safe bet to make that you’d leave after this week unscathed - unmatched and ready to head back to the city to go about your normal, very ordinary life.

“That’s true,” Mi-Rae confirms. “I mean, she interprets what the Moon says, and Amma lives with all of us, feels the connection between people; she sees us, she sees love.”

It’s why you think the practice was easily accepted by your clan. Unlike with the werewolves where mating is at the core of who and what they are, it’s not the same with the humans. It’s not in your DNA as a species as much as it is in theirs. The matches are meant to affirm love that is—or could be—there, you’ve been told, because the journey of finding and nurturing it is fate, too, they said.

Amma, through the Moon, also blesses that love, that’s why everyone treats it as a celebration more than anything.

“I’ll probably survive another year then,” you smile at the thought. 

“Yes, not unless you have a Supreme Fate, then you kind of have an escape,” Taehyung casually says, earning him a slap from his girlfriend at the reminder.

The thought of the Supreme Fate causes your heart to throb, something that happens a lot more than you’d like to admit. 

Supreme Fates are rare; they happen once or twice in a century, and unlike the regular fates that match mates, these aren’t interpretations. 

The Moon appears to Amma in a dream, telling her of the Fates that have been predestined before all of you came to be, as if written in stone that nobody questions, meant to protect your clan and the pack. It is believed that it was Fate that the pack had met your clan, that Amma was the destined leader, that you would all continue to live under her guidance to ensure the existence of your species. 

One of those Supreme Fates is finding your True Mate - a match so powerful and unyielding, and you’ve heard such declarations have only happened thrice - the last time was last year. 

Jin-Ae, an orphan found in the forest and whom Amma took in as her own, was discovered to be the last direct descendant of the clan’s ancestor. She’d been fated to Namjoon, the direct descendant of the pack’s first Alpha, and now stands as the leader. As True Mates, the first mixed one, they’re destined to lead you all. 

The match was a blessing; it was another sign of you all being children of the Moon, of wolf and human fated to lead, a reminder of the complementarity of the species, two halves of a whole that’s spent centuries looking out for each other, protecting each other. Loving each other. 

It was an unbelievable moment; you remember the shock that quickly turned to celebration, of song and dance that was more emotional than ever, as it validated your very existence. There was no dry eye during the Ceremony. Well, except for yours. 

You rejoiced for them, but the Ceremony just stands to remind you of the man you lost to the other Supreme Fate, one that took him away to serve as a member of the Wolf Warrior Clan.

Your heart shattered 3 years ago at the pronouncement. And while you knew it devastated Yoongi, your lover and best friend, because he had to leave you behind, you also knew he would never turn back on his duty, one he’d had for the rest of his life. It’s an honor for anyone, you’ve been told as a consolation; not just anyone is destined to be the protector of the wolf species. 

There was no one to blame. It hurt him to leave you; it hurt you to agree to his request not to communicate. 

But you’ve since resented the Moon, the practice, and the Ceremony altogether. An event that you once looked forward to, imagining one day being called with Yoongi at your side because you were both sure it would be you, is now something that leaves you feeling empty.

The world is cruel sometimes. It can let everything fall into place to give you joy, but it could also tear you apart and cause you to lose faith in the things you’d believed in - like love, happiness. Like home.

“___. ___,” Jimin nudges you. “We’re at the cafe. Let’s go before the sun sets.”

You’re broken out of your thoughts at this, clutching the bracelet that Yoongi had given you before he left, the charms of all the things you love soothing and breaking your heart at the same time. 

You nod at your cousin and head inside the cafe, your only pit stop on the way to your town. You order your usual - hibiscus tea and walnut cookies, and you know you’re close to home.

“Two hours away and I can already smell your grandfather’s walnut pie, ___. I can’t wait for that,” Taehyung smiles.

You indulge your friend, knowing he gets excited for your return for this specific reason. Your grandfather’s pie is quite the scene stealer. He passed down the recipe to you; comfort food, you could say. 

“Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us, okay? I mean, he is making it for me,” you respond. 

“I promise,” he raises his hand to show he’s serious, his boxy grin making you forget sometimes he’s a warrior-ranked wolf, tasked to fight threats to the pack and protect the town, a rank Yoongi held as well. “I won’t embarrass myself in front of your family again, not like they haven’t seen the worst of me, anyway.”

You all laugh, reminiscing about your childhood days playing in your family home’s garden, climbing the walnut trees and flying kites. When Taehyung and Mi-rae had grown, they’d have you and Jimin on their backs, running against the wind in their wolf form to one of the many nearby rivers in town. 

When your relationship with Yoongi turned romantic when you were 18, that became something you both did. There was something intimate about you riding on his back, he’d said, as he’d felt you so close, so free, so accepting of who he is, loving him for all that he is. 

Your phone ringing breaks through your memory, and your mother scolds you when you say you’re still 2 hours out, claiming that the food will be cold by then if you don’t get moving. You groan through her nagging, but you won’t deny the longing in her voice every time she does this. 

You’re back on the road, with Jimin and your friends distracting you, knowing you tend to be melancholic the closer to home you get.

The hours fly by, and it’s not long after when the familiar scent of the mountains wafts through the open-window car and the sight of the pine trees peaking just as the sun sets causes that pang in your chest. 

Your welcome home is like how it’s been the past years - your close relatives and friends enjoying grilled meat, salads, and sweet potatoes cooked in 10 different ways, and of course, your grandfather’s famed walnut pie, in your garden. The Moon is almost at its brightest, and you could already hear the wolves howling in the distance, paying their respects.

“They’re celebrating early,” your father remarks, sipping on his rice wine. “Seems like it will be a night of matches tomorrow.”

“I wonder if we’ll be celebrating for any of our children,” your mother says, smiling warmly at you and your sister, Baram, 3 years your junior. 

Your mother had been very heartbroken with how Yoongi’s departure affected you. She’d cooked your favorite food everyday for those 2 weeks you moped in your room, held you close on the nights you’d be riddled with fear of what would happen to him, cried when you decided to leave for the city because home reminded you too much of him. 

She hurt for you, she’d said, and you learned to hide much of your pain so she would stop worrying. She does enough of that with the dozens of students she teaches at the community school; she can’t be constantly concerned about her 25-year old daughter mending a broken heart.

“Patience, my dear,” your grandfather turns to your mother. “Baram is too busy learning medicine and ___ is barely home. We'll be happy whether they get matched tomorrow or not.”

He looks warmly at you and your sister. “Keep going, keep living your lives; your mate would just be there. You’re bound to find them when you need to.”

For a town of two thousand humans and werewolves, that might take a while. But you smile at your family, assuring them that you understand, that you respect the practice, that you won’t turn away from your clan, even if it seems that way with you barely coming home. 

“I’m sure I will,” you manage to respond, though the thoughts linger in your mind.

Who’d want a broken-hearted woman who can’t let go of the only man she’s ever loved? And who would I ever want after him?

You watch the fog clear up from your back porch, quilt over your lap and hot tea warming your hands. The birds are chirping, the early morning sun is shining over the trees and flowers, and the scent of the cool breeze is helping you relax. 

You could stay like this all day with your favorite book and feel accomplished; you could even lie down on the grass just watching the sky and feel fulfilled. You don’t have these back in the city, where rows of buildings and the sound of cars honking make you forget who you are. 

There’s no time for quiet there, no time to think, no time to feel. Perhaps that’s why you chose to leave this place. And why you chose to stay.

“Good morning,” Jimin sits on the chair next to you, his morning eyes and puffy cheeks a sight you miss. “Coffee?”

He offers the iced store-bought drink he got from your refrigerator. 

You shake your head. “Made my drink from the basil plant over there,” you respond, cocking your head to the left.

“Right. I forget you complain about the city air tainting the herbs you grow at your apartment that you can’t make tea,” he chuckles. “For all the talk of not wanting to come home, you’re quite attached to it.”

“It’s an odd feeling, resenting and loving something at the same time,” you admit. “It’s almost like, I don’t know who I am outside of this place, but being here takes a big piece of me every time.”

“Losing a great love in a place you love can do that to you, I guess,” Jimin says, grinning at how the sun shines over the pine trees decorating the mountains. “Doesn’t mean it’s the only great love out there.”

“You’re quite the optimist,” you sigh, wanting badly for that to rub off on you, with everyone around you seemingly feeling the same way. “I wish I was enthusiastic about life like you guys are.”

“You used to be, though,” he reminds you. “Even if it was just a stroll to the bakery or riding our bikes down the dirt road, you always enjoyed them. A puffy cloud, the taste of rain, a pale blue sky… You marveled at the ordinary, ___. That’s what made you, you.”

“I still do that,” you huff, trying not to show how much his observation affects you. “I’m here, watching the sky with my tea, humming to myself before you came. That’s still me.”

“Yeah, but you just keep it all to yourself now.”

“I used to share it with him all the time,” you say after a while. “Yoongi and I loved the ordinary. We thought we’d live it. Live through all this - a cozy house with a porch, a nice garden, baked sweet potatoes and eggs in the morning, reading books cuddled next to each other while lying on the grass… Wasn’t too much to ask, right?”

Jimin wants to tell you that you can still have those, that Yoongi being far away and living out his Fate doesn’t mean you get to stop living yours. But Jimin stops himself as he sees the look in your eyes, knowing at some point, you’d stopped trying. You’re too young to feel like there’s no other great love out there, but he knows you. You love deeply; it’s why the cut runs just as deep, too.

“He could’ve at least let me still call him. They can do that, right?” You wonder. “Or at least let us write to each other. He left me with a bracelet instead. I see him in it, but it just feels so one-sided.”

“But it’s all the things you love,” your cousin reminds you, prompting you to look at the charms of a bird, a book, a cloud, the sun, even the moon. “Maybe he didn’t want you to forget that.”

You mindlessly trace your fingers over them. “Maybe he didn’t want me to forget him, too.”

Mi-Rae places the last baby’s breath pin on your hair and smiles excitedly at you, proud of the look she put together that wasn’t met with resistance, as in the past. 

It’s the same long-sleeved lace dress you’ve been wearing the past few years; the way it flows down your form just right above the floor makes you look more feminine than usual. It’s the hairstyle and accessories that change every year. At least, that’s what your best friend tries.

The year after Yoongi left, you wore the dress uncaringly - unpressed and wrinkled, your hair tangled and mussed, as you’d slept that whole day. The year after, the dress was more presentable and your hair was at least in a ponytail. You’d left the necklace and earrings that Mi-Rae placed on your dresser, and just like the Ceremony before when you briefly congratulated your best friends on being fated then headed home, you went through it in a daze.

This time is quite the step up, she chimes, as you didn’t fight her off when she sat you down and did your hair. The simple layered necklaces added to the charm, but the dangling earrings felt too much, so you left those in her bag for another time, since you’re convinced there will be.

“My gorgeous angels,” your grandfather coos, as you and Baram walk down the stairs and greet your family in the living room. 

Mi-Rae had dressed up your sister, too, and that was a much more pleasant affair for the two. 

Baram loves the Ceremony, finding the magic and realness of it all so inspiring, she’d said once, how someone is out there is your other half, sometimes with neither of you knowing.

It’s a lot more symbolic between human mates, your parents always tell you. As mortals, there’s beauty in recognizing and accepting your finiteness; you’re given this one life that has an expiration date and you get to spend it with the person that the universe conspired for you to be with. The moment when humans become one is many things, and the recognition of their limitations as beings makes the act feel transcendental.

For werewolves, it’s a lot of many things, too, but stronger. Finding a mate is a part of who they are as a species, and they’re bonded with their mate for life, for however long that may be. They literally become one with their other half, feeling their emotions, their pain and strength; werewolves are said to lose themselves without the one who completes them. 

Your sister finds this all so purposeful. She’s always been drawn to them - the grandness and meaning of things. She’s always enjoyed your grandfather’s stories about the lovers and the dreamers. 

So did you, but you outgrew them. You became more drawn to the tales of the ordinary - people, creatures with not much to offer to the world. Living is enough; there’s purpose in that, there’s joy in that; that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“How do you sustain the excitement every year?” You ask your family. “I could literally not find my mate in the next 10 years and you’d probably still send us off merrily.”

“The Ceremony reminds us that we are all guided by something far beyond our human capability,” your grandfather smiles, “just like the werewolves do. We are children of the Moon, just like they are. Our fates will be forever tied in one way or another; both wouldn’t have existed without the other.”

“I know, it’s just…” you trail, unsure of what you mean to say, because deep down you understand all this - you believed in all this. 

You just resent the fact that you thought you’d found your mate - that’s what being with Yoongi was like. But he wasn’t made for you; he never was. He loved you deeply just as you did him, but you weren’t meant to seal that, to live that love, and that just hurts so much more than not having a mate at all.

Your mother, bothered by the sudden somber mood, gives you and Baram a hug, ready to send off her only children to find out if they’d been matched. She takes photos, as she does every year since you were 18, and she never seemed to mind that she’s been doing this for years. You can’t imagine how the waiting feels like for your family, too.

Jimin and Mi-Rae take their scooters and have you and Baram sit at the back. Your house isn’t far from the gathering spot, the location where those waiting to be mated, their guests, and their families would convene before the Ceremony.

You get there in no time and the place is buzzing; it’s always a festive season during this time of the year. It’s where love is recognized, blessed, and paraded. Everyone’s bound to be elated.

The four of you walk the paved walkway, meeting friends and other familiar faces awaiting their destiny. 

The gathering spot is like a massive garden. Dining sets lay out perfectly with lantern string lights hanging overhead. There are long tables that will hold the food being cooked in Amma’s residence not far away. Spread across are animals roasting from the earlier hunt - deer, wild boar, and rabbits. 

Everyone is preparing for the Ceremony and the celebration right after. Guests talk with each other against the soft background music, wish their luck, and send their goodbyes. You recognize many of them. Those awaiting their fates are easily distinguishable, as you all wear white. Everyone but you seems to be excited, though.

“There you all are!” Taehyung greets, walking closer to the four of you. 

He has on his boxy grin that usually makes you smile, but the nerves mixed with displeasure of going through this again is keeping you from even faking it.

“Hi,” you finally say. “Aren’t you supposed to be on guard?”

As one of the already fated warrior wolves, Taehyung is tasked to patrol the clearing where the Ceremony will take place. With the full moon out, wild animals tend to hunt their prey and sometimes wander in the area, the energy being expended somehow pulling them in, too. 

“I am, but I had someone cover for me quickly. Just wanted to check on you all and wish you luck,” he responds, smiling at you, Baram, and Jimin all dressed in white. 

“We’re all good, Taehyung,” Baram says. “Buzzing with excitement over here. Look at my lovely sister! She definitely can’t wait to find out if tonight’s the night that she turns another page of her incredibly thrilling life.” She cocks her head towards your unamused face.

You scowl at her sarcasm, something she’s used to, the way you’re used to her teasing that she says is out of tough love - an injustice, you claim, given the years you spent braiding her hair and knitting clothes for her dolls. 

“Just because your life is fun doesn’t mean you get to drag me into it. I’m perfectly fine being a perfectly normal and boring and unloved human,” you say dryly. 

She gives you a pained smile. “You’re far from being unloved, you know that right?” 

Your sister hugs you from behind, squeezing you as she likes to do, and everyone laughs as you yelp once she starts tickling you so you could wipe the scowl off your face. 

She quickly straightens herself and flips her hair over her shoulder, her mischievous smile being replaced by a sweet one. You cock an eyebrow until you see the cause of it in the form of one auburn-haired werewolf named Hoseok, his bright smile and charisma even from several feet away making you understand why your sister is a lot more optimistic about the Ceremony than usual.

You only know him from her stories told over the phone - a lone wolf from the south whose pack was hunted and he couldn’t save them. It’s why even as a warrior-ranked wolf, he spends a lot of time in the town’s hospital - where Baram interns - learning how to mend the wolves’ wounds. He arrived only 3 years ago; you stopped caring about many things then.

Adopted by the pack and having proven himself worthy, he’s decked in all white, awaiting his fate tonight. Baram is convinced they’re fated for each other, claiming about a certain connection she feels when she’s with him. 

You reprimanded her, claiming that the pairing of mates is more than that. You and Yoongi were strongly connected but it wasn’t meant to be. The Moon decides regardless; Baram should spare herself the heartbreak and not hope. 

She didn’t push it, knowing you’re right, but also keeping in mind your unique case. Your connection with Yoongi was unmistakable - you could have even been fated to him, but the Supreme Fate is unquestionable, one that Amma also only finds out during the Ceremony. 

It would’ve hurt either way, and this convinces you that you’re not fated to another human or a werewolf - you’re fated to pain.

Hoseok and one of the Betas, Seokjin, someone you’ve known since you were a teenager as Yoongi’s trainer, approach your group, hugging everyone but you. 

“Hi, ___. It’s nice to see you again,” the Beta greets. “I’m glad you still get to visit town for the Ceremony.”

“Uh, hi,” you awkwardly wave. “And yeah, my family’s into this thing so I can’t really miss it. Daughter duty and all.”

You internally smack yourself for being insensitive, knowing that the Ceremony is one that their kind reveres because finding mates is at the core of who they are. 

“I see why you’d think that,” he responds, with the tiniest hint of bitterness in his voice. “But we’re all here for a reason; we find our mates for a reason. Life is too precious to be spent alone. I think it’s beautiful that the Moon ensures that we don’t.”

You let his words sink in, knowing he’s not saying them out of comfort like your friends or family do, but as a belief that all of the people here share. You’d given up on this thought all those years ago, and it had been hard trying to believe in it again.

You merely smile in response, and just as you’re about to excuse yourself, you hear a deep voice calling for Seokjin and Hoseok. You turn and feel the commanding presence of the werewolves in front of you.

“Alpha, Luna,” you bow, startled that the rest don’t join in.

“Ah, you’ve been away too long,” Namjoon laughs. “We don’t use titles here, ___. Please, just call us by our names.”

“I agree,” Jin-Ae smiles warmly at you. “We all still grew up together in this town; Fates don’t change that.”

“Well, you two are kind of the once-in-a-lifetime ‘it’ couple of our generation,” you reason. “Just felt right to pay my respects.”

“You act like you’ve never slapped me overdue charges for the books I returned those years ago,” Namjoon laughs, reminding you of the times he’d shyly go to the town library you used to work at before you left, his dimpled smile and crinkled eyes uncharacteristic of his position. “I’m still that same guy who forgets, and Jin-Ae is still that same girl who’d run screaming when Amma’s chickens chase her.”

You all laugh at the memories. 

Your town, tucked away in the northern mountains, is a small one where everyone knows everyone. All the markets and stores are in one area, all the cafes and restaurants are in another next to a row of entertainment establishments, and all the town offices in another; the community school isn’t far away from there.

But the heart of the town is where you all are, a vast area with pavilions and gazebos around for people to gather. The pack house and Amma’s residence are nearby, open for others to visit. It’s always symbolized the balanced and complementary relationship between the species, and it’s a place where the residents spend the most time in, outside of their homes and places of employment.

You, not so much, especially once you hit 18 and you rather spent it with Yoongi in one of the many rivers you discovered or at the meadow not far from your home where you drew over the sky and made stories out of clouds. Even then, this place represented parts of your childhood, of your joy and innocence, which you’ve lost touch of over the years.

Jimin and Taehyung are narrating stories from your growing up years, and you all get immersed in them until someone’s low voice cuts through the moment.

“Namjoon, Amma’s ready. She’s calling for everyone to settle in.”

“Oh, right. The Moon’s just about to reach its peak,” Namjoon responds.

The man nods and turns to the group to greet them back. He looks at you, his eyes lingering then widening, then he turns away. 

“Ah, ___. Do you remember Jungkook?” Namjoon asks, perhaps picking up on the man’s shyness.

You scrunch your brows and try. 

“She was in your mother’s class for 2 years,” Mi-Rae helps you, prompting you to recall seeing him during the times you picked your mother up at the community school after arriving from the school you attended in the lowlands where they taught more subjects. 

“Ah, right,” you say. “I guess I remember him more when I used to see him at Amma’s, always around her and Jin-ae.”

You see Jungkook look a bit flustered and focus his eyes on the ground.

“He was the Beta assigned to guard both of us,” Jin-Ae informs you. “We kind of grew up together.”

You want to say that she basically grew up with everyone, but you keep it to yourself. Thinking about this now, it doesn’t surprise you that she’s the Luna, given the bond she’s developed with the wolves and humans, having lived at the center of it all. Like Amma, everyone just seems to feel warmth around her. 

“Well, you’re lucky you grew up with one who seems more pleasant. The werewolf I grew up with wouldn’t shut up,” you motion at Taehyung, earning you a pout from him and laughter from everyone else.

You feel somewhat less tense, and you smile at Jungkook in greeting, even if, ironically, he's the one you know the least. You see his lips turn up the tiniest bit and he turns away again, and you assume he’s just a naturally reserved person who doesn’t warm up easily with people he doesn’t really know or aren’t comfortable with, and you don’t fault him for it. You tend to be like that, too.

He’s quite the shy one - a little unusual for a Beta who’s meant to be the second-in-command of the Alpha and primary protector of the pack, but seeing as there’s two of them - and that he’d been Amma’s guard before - you’re assuming that he’s the protector and Seokjin is the deputy.

This is confirmed when Namjoon goes over safety measures with Jungkook as you start to walk, but you don’t miss how his gaze lingers on you, but he turns away again when you try to meet his eyes.

You don’t let it bother you. Maybe he’s nervous - he’s in white and eligible to be fated, too. You don’t want another thing to think about; the Ceremony itself is enough to make you feel uneasy.

Mi-Rae stays behind while the rest of you move towards the clearing right by the entrance to the forest, which is where the Ceremony will take place. There are benches where all those waiting to meet their fates - werewolf and human alike - are to sit. You take your seat next to Baram and Jimin, with Hoseok and Jungkook not far away. 

There’s many of you here, as you expected, and the countdown to when this ends begins in your mind. You can’t deny the tranquility surrounding you though, even with the murmurs and muted giggles of the others, all awaiting for what’s to come. 

Despite your resentment towards the practice because of what it took from you, you still acknowledge the meaning of it, as well as the power of such gathering in the first place. You’re in a large space filled with werewolves on the night when the Moon is brightest, and there’s not one part of you or anyone who is afraid.

Contrary to what many believe - based on the numerous films and shows you’d come across - the full Moon doesn’t trigger the beast in them. In fact, it’s the opposite. The full moon doesn’t make werewolves aggressive, or hungry for blood, or more inclined to mate. It's when the wolf and human in them are most balanced, when they’re most calm, something that they get from the Moon herself.

This is when the connection between the earth and its mystical elements are strongest, hence why the Ceremony takes place during this time. You look around, for the first time in years, wondering how many of those present here will walk away with another hand in theirs.

And it’s also at this moment when you mindlessly trace your fingers on your bracelet’s charms, the biggest what if in your life flashing through your eyes again.

“If I wasn’t a werewolf and could survive without meat, I could probably eat your pies for the rest of my life,” Yoongi had said as he laid on your lap after devouring half of the pastry dish that was supposed to last him another 3 days. 

The spring breeze was perfect that day, as you leaned on the tree in your garden and savored the chill of the weather against your lover’s innate warmth. You had a book in one hand while the other was combing through his silver hair. You smiled at the compliment, and you looked down on his face and saw he was doing the same. 

“That would mean you don’t have a choice but to be with me for the rest of your life, then,” you teased, suddenly anxious about his response. 

“More like, that would mean I’d choose it everyday,” he closed his eyes with a smile still plastered on his face, his fair skin glistening under the sun and he looked absolutely beautiful.

He said the words so casually, as if he didn’t just take your heart on a roller coaster ride of emotions. 

But he did, and it was a good one. That’s when you knew that you didn’t want anybody else to spend the rest of your life with, certain that your fates weren’t just intertwined, they were one. 

You shake your arms at the sudden shiver down your spine, the vivid images making them feel more like you’re reliving them than they are a memory. 

“Everything okay?” Jimin asks from next to you, visibly worried at your sudden anxiousness, which should be more acceptable than your usual indifference.

“Yeah, just remembered something,” you say dryly.

Your reliving of the moment seemed to have lasted quite a while, as you look to the front towards Amma’s right where 3 matches have already been made, their beaming faces a usual sight during nights like this. 

It’s taking longer than usual for the next person to be called, and you’re just about to zone out again when you hear a familiar name.

“Jungkook,” Amma’s tender voice calls out. “Come here, child.”

You watch the man you’d seen earlier shakily walk towards the mat, his face the same anxious and uneasy one that should be typical of any shy person, but not so of the protector of the pack.

“Do werewolves know when they’re about to be fated?” You ask your cousin, feeling as if maybe that’s why Jungkook seemed quite flustered and nervous earlier.

“Nope, their senses aren’t strong enough for that,” Jimin answers. “Why?”

“Nothing, he just seemed a little off,” you shrug. “I mean, I barely know him, but we’ve obviously seen each other a few times, yet he kept looking at me as if it was the first time he’d ever seen me.”

“Well, he’s always been a shy kid. Really strong and quite the force in wolf form, though. Maybe he’s just curious about you because you’re not exactly a staple in town anymore,” Jimin  reasons.

“Yeah but. It was more like a look of recognition on his face, just like… like how he’s looking at me right now,” you trail.

You look forward, meeting his gaze.

Jimin’s words get stuck in his throat as he comes to a realization.

“Maybe he’s—”

“___, please come in front.”

The world seems to stop at the sound of your name, and you could swear your ears are playing tricks on you. 

But the clearing is quiet, save for the sound of the river not far away, and it’s no longer Jungkook who’s looking at you - it’s everyone but him.

“___,” Amma repeats, perhaps feeling your shock from all the way in front. “I shall declare your fate with this man.”

Her voice is calm, comforting, as it always is, but you don’t feel either of those right now. You feel lightheaded, like bile is stuck in your throat but nothing would come out. It also feels like your world is shattering for the second time in your life.

Jimin and Baram look at each other then slightly push you off the bench to get you going, so as not to further delay the rest of the Ceremony. 

You’re not like them who are friends with everyone; you know people and they know you by association, but not closely. Regardless, you’re sure that they know that you and Jungkook barely interact, as you’ve never really done so for others to see.

They seem startled, as the joyous smiles you know should be on their faces are not there. 

They’re a little confused, but it’s also because of how you and Jungkook are acting. Normally, fated mates are elated - shy sometimes, with flushed cheeks and bright smiles, but always contented, always accepting.

But you look horrified and somehow, Jungkook looks sullen, apologetic, even.

Your feet drag you to the mat up front where Amma sits and you shakily sit next to Jungkook. Your wide eyes say everything, the way your mate’s bowed head says the same.

Wise as she is, Amma knows how all this would play out, but you could tell that right now, neither you nor Jungkook knows how it will. 

She cups his cheek and lifts it to turn him towards her, the Moon shining brightly on his face. 

“The Moon is never wrong, my child. It wasn’t wrong then, it isn’t wrong now,” she says knowingly, comfortingly. “You’re strong; you don’t have to be afraid.”

You see Jungkook nod, his eyes a little glassy and you’re almost offended that he seems quite upset at this, even if you are, too. You at least don’t show him that you’re close to tears.

She cups your cheek as well and stares at your eyes, perhaps hoping to quell the million things reflected in them. You’re transparent that way, but right now, you wish you weren’t. This woman stands as your guidance, yet you seem to be questioning her at this moment.

And she knows it, as she caresses your face and utters, “it will make sense one day.”

It doesn’t do much to ease your racing heart, and maybe nothing will, and somehow that scares you even more - feeling that uncertainty, that disbelief, that lack of faith in your mate is quite the burden to carry. Yet you can’t bear yourself to trust all this. 

Your heart has been broken once already; this has just crushed the remaining pieces of you that’s left.

Amma takes both of your right hands and places them in each other, positioning them to represent balance and equality. She takes one of the cloth pieces by her side, soaked in an infusion of dahlia and lilac flowers in lavender oil that’s been dried and blessed. She lifts it against the Moon’s light and lightly wraps it around your joint hands. 

“May the Moon bless this bond and may you live and grow in love, peace, and prosperity. May you learn to listen, to forgive, to understand, and to respect each other for all your days on this earth.” 

She looks up to the Moon before she looks back at both of you. “You may now untie the cloth,” she says, which you both nervously do, then she folds it and lays it out for one of you to take.

It’s Jungkook who does.

He gets on his feet and offers his hand out to you, helping you up then letting go as you stand. You both slowly walk towards the bench to the side where the other fated mates are, their clasped hands and glimmering eyes a complete opposite to your distance with Jungkook and the sullenness on your faces.

You can’t bear to look at the crowd and meet Jimin’s and Baram’s eyes, afraid of how your expression would give away all the emotions that you’re feeling, none of which resemble what the rest of the people here are.

“A-are you cold?” A low voice whispers next to you after you’ve sat.

“What?” You turn to Jungkook.

“Are you cold?” He repeats, looking at your hands that you realize are shaking.

But you don’t feel the cool air prickling your skin even if it’s cold out, and you’re suddenly aware it’s more from shock than anything.

“No,” you say. “I’m okay.”

More names are called and everything else is noise, as your body demands you to listen to your racing heartbeat and all the questions floating in your mind. You clasp your hands together the rest of the Ceremony, head bowed down to try to make sense of what just happened and how your life will be like after this. 

It finally ends, and all fated mates are led out to the garden as a presentation for the guests. You see your family’s faces, now with Jimin and Baram who had not been called, painted with joy as they see you walk out with Jungkook next to you.

You manage the faintest smile you can muster so as not to worry them, and feel the slightest touch on your back, which happens to be Jungkook’s hand, guiding you towards the table where you’re supposed to sit. 

He stays across from you and begins putting food on your plate as you absent-mindlessly stare at it. 

“It’s fine, Jungkook. I can do it myself,” you sigh.

The beef is marbled, the rabbit stew smells heavenly, and the roasted sweet potatoes are just how you like them, but no part of you feels like eating nor celebrating, as you hear the music start and some people are already dancing their way to the center. You manage about 3 mouthfuls of food and nibble on an egg tart that you don’t finish.

You look at Jungkook, a werewolf, whose appetite you know equals to five times of a normal human’s, yet he’s eating slowly, carefully, as if afraid that the way he does would offend you.

“I’ve seen werewolves eat, Jungkook,” you say. “I’m not gonna judge you or anything.”

He nods but continues his slow pace, his eyes darting to you then the food then you again, so you decide to excuse yourself and head to the bathroom, telling him you’re not in danger when he tells you to be careful.

“You could at least act like your life isn’t about to end,” Mi-Rae stands next to you as you wash your hands in the sink. “You’re scaring your mate. And a Beta werewolf at that.”

You turn towards her, your frown a contrast to her playful giggle. 

“I’m so transparent. It’s not even his fault,” you sigh.

“It isn’t, so don’t make him feel like it. Jungkook’s a good guy, and I can see he’s trying.”

You nod, knowing that your best friend’s right. She opens her arms and you fall into them, and you don’t realize just how much you’ve been needing this since your name was called earlier. You try to stop the tears but a few of them fall, which you quickly wipe off. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” she comforts. “I know it’s scary but—”

“He’s not the one I want to be with. You know that,” you say softly.

“I know but ___, Yoongi isn’t here. He’s out there being a hero for all of us and this… this is your life now,” she turns to face you and wipes your tears. “We all leave here scared somehow but always hopeful that in finding our mate, we learn more about life, and that we aren’t alone anymore. Jungkook may not be who you want now but he’s who you have, he’s who you’ll be with until the end.”

It’s hard to express more, even if she’s your best friend. This is part of who she is but she’s also found her mate whom she happens to actually love, so she can’t possibly understand what you’re feeling. But you nod and put on a brave face; you don’t want your loved ones being worried about you.

You both head back and separate once you near your table, and you catch Jungkook with a mouthful of food and a shy look on his face. The plate of beef and bowl of stew in front of him that used to be full are now wiped clean, and you see 4 empty bowls of rice next to him.

Jungkook sees your lips resemble the faintest of smiles, and he can’t help but mirror it. 

He’d been starving earlier, given his last minute hunt in the afternoon because there didn’t seem to be enough food. But you looked so distraught, so bothered at being fated with him that he couldn’t focus; all he wanted was to make sure you were okay and that you wouldn’t feel scared or uncomfortable.

He knows you’re friends with Taehyung, a warrior-wolf he’d trained at one point, and Hoseok hasn’t shut up about your sister since they met those years ago. He doesn’t know much about you, as you usually keep to yourself, especially when he’d heard about you and another warrior-wolf that Jungkook actually admired - Yoongi. 

It had been a meaningful and emotional night when his Supreme Fate was announced, but Jungkook barely remembers much. He hadn’t even thought about how that must’ve affected you until he found out later on that you’d left for the city and didn’t plan on coming back. 

But you’re here now, as his mate. And everything about it scares him. 

His appetite even for a werewolf is massive, and he held out on eating and breathed a sigh of relief when you excused yourself. 

As the Beta tasked with protection, he’s more brawn than he is brain, and having known of the warrior who is a master tactician with a level of patience and maturity that rivals even their own Alpha, he can see why someone like you - smart, loyal, and independent, as he’s heard - would love someone like Yoongi. 

Nothing scares Jungkook. He’s the feared one, yet here he is, afraid to show the wolf in him to you. 

You take a seat and yawn and you suddenly feel exhausted. 

“The dancing will start soon. We can leave after if you want,” Jungkook tells you.

He wasn’t expecting much, but he was still the tiniest bit disappointed when you agreed, even more so when you both meet with your family - all smiles and beaming with joy and pride - and he notices the absence of any luggage with them.

“I really didn’t expect this,” you say. “I didn’t pack my things. I’m thinking maybe I could just go over to your place tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jungkook bites his lips. “That’s… that’s okay. I can just pick you up then.”

You nod and are about to head out when you hear Namjoon call your names.

“Congratulations, you two,” Namjoon exclaims. “This is quite the pair, I must say, but I truly am happy for both of you.” 

You see the sincerity in his smile and you almost feel bad for him.

“He’s right,” Jin-Ae pipes in. “I’m glad you’ve met your mate, Jungkook. And you’re a lucky woman, ___.”

Her smile mirrors her Alpha’s and you manage one yourself.

Namjoon notices the distance between you and Jungkook and how you’re clutching your mother’s arm.

“Aren’t you two heading to Jungkook’s place?” He asks, motioning towards the mountain on the left.

“Oh, I didn’t get to pack my things. I’ll head there tomorrow,” you mutter.

“But… it’s customary for the mates to spend their first night together,” Namjoon informs you.

This is a fact but also something that’s not mandatory. Regardless, you weren’t ready to spend the night with Jungkook, neither are you looking forward to it, but being called out by the Alpha is not exactly a good feeling. You’re about to apologize when Jungkook answers for you.

“It’s fine, we agreed on it. I didn’t actually finish cleaning my place so more time to do that would be nice.”

“Okay then,” Namjoon replies warily. “We wish you well and a happy life together.”

You express your thanks and so does Jungkook, whose shy demeanor is back again. You say your goodbye to him and take the trip back home where later in the night, Jimin enters your room and hugs you to sleep as you silently cry.

Jungkook stands by your front door the next afternoon, ready to pick you up. He’d finished cleaning his place before the Ceremony yesterday and spent the rest of last night wiping everything again in case he missed a spot. He cleaned the sheets this morning, which he changed yesterday, too.

He eyes the two luggage bags on the floor next to you, wondering if that’s all you really have, something you pick up.

“Most of my things are in my apartment in the city. I plan to go back and get them,” you say. 

“Oh, okay. So, uh,” he picks up your bags and sees your parents behind you. “Nice to meet you again, Mr. and Mrs. ___. Please know that I will take care of your daughter.”

“We know you will, son,” your father exclaims. “We hope you two come by every once in a while.”

“I will, don’t worry,” you say, and give them final hugs, with a promise from your grandfather that he’ll bring you some pies every week.

You head out the gate and are surprised to see a vintage-looking black pickup truck with Jungkook next to it. 

“You drive a truck,” you state, unamused.

“Uh, it helps with work,” he replies, not saying that he was also expecting more luggage from you.

You nod and enter. You look out and avoid any sort of eye contact, not much interested to engage in conversation. Today isn’t exactly a day you’re looking forward to. You’re fated to a man whom you don’t know much about and you’re going to live in his house. 

Not that you think he’ll do anything wrong - your entire family basically vouched for him and how kind and thoughtful he is, yet incredibly strong and dominant when he needs to be. 

But you’ve always been a private person who likes to keep to herself. It’s why you and Yoongi got along well because so was he. You lived in your own world and were always content there. This is all new and you don’t know how you’ll manage. 

Just the thought of being fated with someone makes your skin crawl because this is not what you had in mind, and you’ve spent the better part of last night and this whole morning expressing your frustrations to Jimin. He didn’t know what else to say, he’d admitted, and his listening ear seemed enough for you then. 

The road to Jungkook‘s house is an unfamiliar one. He takes the backroads towards one of the mountains, but they’re smooth and lined with more trees than you’re used to, and all you hear are the sounds of the woods.

You’re told that the location of his house is strategic, as it gives him a good view of the town below, making it easier for him to spot any intruders or predators. It’s also right before it goes deep into the forest, and he’d set up traps in the vicinity to keep the wild animals away. Still, it’s a relatively safe place with a lot of space, Taehyung had said.

You don’t feel the elevation much but you do feel the temperature drop the higher you go. You know this isn’t an issue for Jungkook who has an endless supply of body heat, but it sure is for you.

“This might be too much for a bike but a scooter will be fine,” Jungkook says.

“I’ll borrow my father's until I can afford one for myself,” you reply. 

Jungkook nods in response and no more words are said until you reach his cabin, the bareness putting you off. The exterior is plain, lacking any color or charm. 

He leads you inside, worried eyes always looking to you, and he drops your bags on the floor, ready to tour you. 

“It’s not much but I’ll fix it up when I have the time. I wasn’t really expecting this, too,” he apologizes.

There’s a large barn door to your left right as you enter, which leads to the only bedroom of the house. A small hallway leads to the living room, the couch facing the TV and window that looks out to an area with more trees than you imagined for a woodland. You can already gauge the little sunlight this place gets, and the lack of a garden with your walnut trees is suddenly making you feel homesick.

There’s a small dining table to the right and an entrance leading to the kitchen, which doesn’t seem that spacious for you to use. There’s a door to the back area, and you spot a garage where you think he does his work, whatever it is.

You’re surprised with the pleasant scent of the house. Werewolves have a certain smell when they’re in wolf form that they bring home with them, yet this place smells freshly of flowers and clean linens, and the air purifiers you spot might have everything to do with that.

Jungkook says a bit about each room, pointing out where the things are, how to operate the laundry machine, the oven, the TV, but you’re unable to fully process them. You eventually make it to the bedroom, and you immediately notice the one medium-sized bed in the middle.

“You… you only have one bed,” you state the obvious.

“Yeah, uh. The other one is for my wolf,” he says, motioning towards the nest-like cushion on the floor. “I, uh, I’ve always lived alone and just thought that as mates we would—”

“Do you have any other mattress I can sleep on?”

You see Jungkook’s face drop and you regret being so harsh. He hasn’t done anything wrong, you remind yourself, and he’s willingly giving himself to you like you deserve it, like everything is okay, as if you can just go and live as mates normally like you’re not strangers.

“I mean, I… I’m just not used to sleeping next to someone,” you trail, looking at him and hoping he sees the apology in your eyes.

“It’s okay, I get it,” he faintly smiles. “Unfortunately, I don’t. My couch is too small and well, I doubt you’d want me sleeping in my wolf form here. But I can call someone I know for a mattress. I’ll make the bed frame and—”

“No, it’s fine,” you sigh, not wanting to inconvenience him even more, given that you’re the one staying in his place because you don’t have your own and he has a duty to protect your town and you don’t.

“Don’t bother yourself. We can uh, we can share the bed.”

He nods and leads you to the bathroom, spacious and clean, and he shows the closet that he emptied for your things. 

You take in the cabin - his home, and how he did what he could to accommodate you. He’s making space for you and everything feels so overwhelming again, if it wasn’t already. He’s willing, open, and ready for this, for you, and you’re nowhere near that. 

Jungkook notices your silence and he could only hope it’s you starting to imagine yourself here.

“Is there else anything you need?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you huff, turning towards him. “I need answers.”

You see the tinge of content in his eyes turn into apology.

“Don’t you want them?” You wonder.

“Only the Moon has them.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

You’re met with silence, irking you a little; the way his readiness and submission to all this has been rubbing you the wrong way.

“We barely know each other yet we’re supposed to what, grow and live in love? Does that not bother you?” You ask incredulously. 

“The Moon is never wrong, ___. We have to—”

“Can you give me a genuine answer that isn’t plucked from whatever shit they make us believe?” You snap. 

His eyes widen in shock but he tries to answer.

“You’re right, we don’t know each other,” he sighs. “We’ve lived in this town our whole lives, I mean, your mother was my teacher. But we’ve never spoken to each other, I don’t know anything about you that I didn’t learn from your sister or your friends, and I doubt you know anything about me, either.”

His eyes are obsidian, deep in color that seem to share so much yet so little about himself, about his emotions, his worries. You see the faintest bit of hesitation, of concern, but also of understanding.

“I don’t have the answers, and I understand wanting to know them. We deserve that, I guess, but so many things are far beyond our capability, ___. Just because I don’t understand it yet - and I may even doubt all this - but it doesn’t change my acceptance of it, of you,” Jungkook explains, voice calm and sure, it almost makes you want to believe him. 

“You’re my mate, and regardless of how we got here, we’re here. And I have a duty, a promise, to protect you always. You don’t have to return it. I just… I just hope you’ll let me, and that you’ll stay.” He turns away, as if unable to see your desire to reject him at this moment.

“Okay, then,” you respond, his sincerity assuring you somehow. “I’ll let you, but like you said, I don’t have to return it. I’ll stay. I’m your mate, and I, I’ll try.”

He smiles, and it’s a soft one, like there’s warmth and affection, and somehow all that does is scare you.

You don’t know what you meant when you said you were gonna try, and a part of you is unsure you truly meant it, but you have enough people in the form of Jimin, Baram, and Mi-Rae telling you that you aren’t actually trying. 

Dinner with Jungkook on that first night was had in silence. Being in your pajamas and sharing a bed felt so awkward that you stayed so close to the edge and barely slept, afraid you’d fall off or unknowingly wander close to him. This repeated for the next 4 nights, so did your daily visits to your parents’ house. 

You reasoned that you just missed them, and they let you stay around, but you aren’t sure if they believed you or if they thought it was better for them to pretend that they did. They always let you bring home food so you and Jungkook wouldn’t have to prepare them, though, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to work your way around his kitchen, knowing you’d need to ask him where things are or how to operate the rest of his outdated appliances.

You also barely talked to him, not having anything to say that isn’t about your resentment for this arrangement, and you don’t think you could hold yourself back, so you thought it was better to shut up.

Jungkook seemed to understand, as the only things he ever said to you were that the water was heated for your bath and that he was going to be out for a hunt so just scream when you feel you’re in danger. He also always asked if there was anything more you needed before you both went to bed, and you always responded with no. 

It’s been a week since your arrival and you’re up at dawn for a trip back to the city to retrieve the rest of your things. You’re not surprised to wake up to an empty bed, as Taehyung had mentioned that Jungkook gets up at twilight for a quick patrol of the area before he sets out for a morning hunt. 

You’re surprised though, when you exit the bathroom and see him dressed, luggage in hand.

“You cleaned up quickly after a hunt,” you say, rummaging your bag.

“I’m skipping that today. I, uh, I plan on driving you to the city to help you get your things.”

You stop what you’re doing and look at him questioningly. You told him about your plans only last night, given that your usual drivers suddenly couldn’t make the trip with you so you planned on just taking the train to the city and then the bus back here. You didn’t want Jungkook to worry, but perhaps going alone just made him so.

“It’s a long drive, Jungkook. I still need to pack my things and that will take a while. I’ll be coming back tomorrow,” you respond.

“The more I should be with you then. And it’s better than you paying extra for the bus ride home to accommodate all your things and uh, I wouldn’t have to worry if I was with you,” he looks away. 

“It’s fine, really. Aren’t you needed here? I can manage—”

“You’re my mate, ___. I can’t let you go on your own.”

Mate. The word rings in your head all the time, you now detest it. 

“We’re not bonded, Jungkook,” your voice gets louder again, catching him off guard, and like the first time you snapped, you regret this one, too.

“I mean, there’s no other connection there,” you try to recover. “You’re worried because you think you should be, not because it’s me. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You grab your bag and head towards the door when a hand on your wrist stops you. You’re caught by surprise at the gesture but more so, the gentleness of it, and you briefly meet his pleading eyes, a contrast to his strong built and obvious strength.

“Please,  ___? I won’t bother you about anything again, just… just let me go with you.”

You think about how hard the trip will be for you, between using public transport, carrying your things, and being alone. You think about the major inconvenience, and not the way your Beta mate is practically begging you to let him drive the 6 hours there, pack your things, and drive another 6 hours back here. All because he’ll be worried.

“Fine,” you huff. “But we’re not taking your old pickup truck. That thing is uncomfortable.”

You see his lips turn up a bit as he walks you out the door and you see, to your surprise, an SUV that would definitely be able to carry your things.

“It’s Seokjin’s car,” Jungkook says. “I borrowed it last night.”

You hum in response and head inside, sitting comfortably with your eyes focused on the road, just as the rays of light have started to spread throughout the sky.

You’re asleep for most of the trip, save for the drive thru for breakfast and the quick lunch at a side street kiosk near your apartment. You don’t have many things to pack but they’re enough to fill 5 big boxes, one of which are just books, another one full of random things and trinkets, and the last 3 are all clothes and shoes and blankets. 

It takes you a few hours, though, and you’re spent by the time you have dinner, which is just convenience store food. Silence envelopes you and Jungkook again, the same way it did on the way here, and during the time you were packing. He followed your instructions and didn’t ask about any of the things he was seeing, although you did notice his lingering looks at your photos, books, and potted plants by your window.

You’re asleep on your single bed, and Jungkook sighs as he lays on your couch that’s almost half his size, and he’d insisted this was fine for him and you were too tired to argue. You’re hugging a pillow and there’s another one in between your legs, and you feel so comfortable, nothing like your stiff fetal position on the edge of his bed that he’d seen you do every night.

He’s more hungry than tired and you’re the other way around. But you’re peaceful when you’re asleep. There are no perpetually furrowed brows or pursed lips and clenched jaw making him anxious, no far away eyes making him wonder what else is on your mind, no tension in your body making him wish he could be more of what you need.

You’re worried because you think you should be, you’d told him earlier, and he doesn’t know how much of it is true. 

All beings have mates, the other half of their whole, whose hand they search for, whose warmth makes them feel like home, whose touch can set a fire within them and make them love life. He’d been told all this, about werewolves and humans alike. 

But while your kind can get through life without finding that half or even wanting to - not out of weakness but out of strength - it’s not the same for his. What superhuman ability werewolves have is balanced by the need for the other being that makes them complete, that makes them survive. It’s that innate ability of theirs to know what’s missing, and the Ceremony had, for centuries, helped them with this. 

Mates are fated, but the connection is created. This is all determined by destiny, as everything that happens leads to the road of finding your other half.

But while two beings can have that connection, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re fated for each other, as what he’s learned. He’d felt it before, so have you, but it hadn’t worked out.

Much as he wanted to resign thinking that there was no one out there for him, as he always felt unable to truly forge connections with others and lost the only person he felt it with, he saw you that night at the Ceremony and something changed. 

He’d seen your eyes then, and he’d seen pain that he recognized, a smile that was forced, ignorance that you feigned. But he’d seen your strength, too, felt it when your hands touched, something that matched his. 

You were shocked. He doesn’t blame you for your disbelief or resentment, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect him. You’re his mate, his other half, but you don’t think the same; perhaps he’ll resign to think you never will. 

And while accepting is one thing, wanting it is altogether different. Your indifference has made it difficult, but he tries hard to want it because he knows there’s meaning to all this, and for the occasional moments he wishes it wasn’t you, he reminds himself of Amma’s words - this was meant to be, as all things from the Moon are.

He worries, though - if you’re cold, if you’ve eaten, if you’re well, if you miss your family and your life here in the city where you’re less reminded of what you’ve lost. Perhaps it’s the protector in him, the part that needs to know you’re safe; it’s the mate in him that needs to know you’re happy.

He’s seen that happiness briefly - when you hugged your family goodbye last week, when you’d bring fruits and pies from home, when you make your tea, when you step out the cabin and feel the tinge of sunlight on your face, and earlier, when you neatly packed all your books in the box and flipped the pages and traced your fingers over the covers, as if reliving the stories. 

He felt something then, too - this desire to see that smile, that gentleness in your eyes, and that huff of contentment. He’s been with you barely a week and he knows those live in moments. 

There’s no other connection there, you’d said, and maybe you’re right, but he’d felt it. Even if it’s pain that links both of you, it’s still something worth feeling.

The long ride back to town is still a quiet one, save for your munching on biscuits and sipping your hot tea. 

After you turned over the apartment to the landlady in the morning, who somehow still didn’t remember your name after 3 years, you and Jungkook went to the supermarket where he insisted on buying you the snacks and other items you wouldn’t normally get back home. It had been another tense conversation but you’d won, having only bought your biscuits and tea with your own money, insisting that you can provide for yourself.

You also passed by the library where you work to say goodbye to your uncle. He’d given you a set of books you’ve been waiting to go on sale, and handed Jungkook another set to give to Namjoon.

“Congratulate your brother for me,” your uncle had told Jungkook. “He called the other day and asked to buy these books through you but I said I’ll give them as a gift.”

Jungkook merely nodded then, his pursed lips and shy smile a signature look already, and you didn’t bother to ask more. Namjoon does a lot of things; your uncle could be congratulating him for a number of reasons but it’s not like it’s your business. You’re thinking now it would be, though.

You finish your tea and are craving for its warmth, as you sniff the onset of chills you’re feeling. You were never great with the cold; it’s why you love your quilts and blankets and usually walk around your house with one. You’d left most of them at your apartment but now that you’ve retrieved them, you don’t even think you can use them, given all the cleaning it would require. 

The temperature has started to drop and the cabin is higher up in the mountains; winter is coming in a few weeks and you’re not sure how you’ll survive. Being mates with a werewolf should be a good thing, if only you actually liked being close to him.

You sniff again, prompting Jungkook to crank up the car’s heater.

“You have your blankets now. Hopefully you’ll sleep better at night,” Jungkook says, eyes focused on the road.

“I sleep fine,” you mumble.

“You shiver sometimes. I… I can feel it.”

“Just get me a mattress then, if it bothers you,” you retort, crossing your arms and hugging yourself.

“I didn’t say it does,” he says calmly, probably now used to you snapping at him every chance you get. “But you can tell me if it gets too much. I… I can help.”

The insinuation isn’t lost on you. He’s a werewolf; his body temperature, even in human form, is higher than normal. He’s a walking heater and would probably provide you all the warmth you need. 

“I’ll be okay,” you lie. “The blankets will be enough.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you don’t miss the slight disappointment in his voice.

It’s been 2 weeks since your return from the city with the rest of your things, and it’s been 2 weeks of you trying to settle back in town.

You started working at the local records office that does everything from consolidating residents’ information, to documenting complaints, receiving mail, and assisting the town chief. It’s all administrative work, which you don’t mind; it’s what you’re used to and oddly enough, something you enjoy. 

It’s your usual 9-5 job and you’ve figured out a routine that works for you. You wake up for a toast and fruit breakfast, with Jungkook having already heated water for your tea. You enjoy it while sitting on the lone chair at the back, looking at the sun grazing over the trees, and listening to the leaves swaying and all the birds chirping. You take your scooter for the 20-minute ride to work, visit your family after, then head to the cabin. 

Due to Mi-rae’s nagging, you figured out how to work the kitchen and use the appliances. It’s not much but on the nights when your parents don’t get to send you dinner, you manage to make some stew and grilled meat from the animals that Jungkook hunts. He seems to enjoy what you make, as he always licks his dinnerware clean and has a satisfied smile at the end of it. Mealtime is always quiet though, and that’s become a norm that neither of you seem to mind.

Jungkook is always gone in the morning when you wake up, off to the woodwork shop where he’s employed, and you hadn’t even known it’s where he works until you went home with a bag of fruits one time and wondered if the wooden fruit bowl had always been there.

He’d made it, he said, given that fruits are a staple of your daily meals and you needed somewhere to store them in. It was Taehyung who’d told you about Jungkook’s job, how he cuts the trees and provides the wood at the shop and makes furniture and other items, too. You thought the garage at the back just housed a hobby or something, and that just prompted your friend to scold you for not even bothering to get to know your mate.

“So, how do you sleep?” Baram asks one afternoon as she accompanies you to your cabin after your parents had sent you so much food.

“What kind of a question is that?” You scowl.

“I mean… He doesn’t have a king sized bed, and you’re terrible with the cold, so like… do you, you know?” She teasingly raises her eyebrows.

“Excuse me, no!” You pinch her arm.

“Don’t look scandalized,” she chides. “You’re the one who goes all out with the men you sleep with before every Ceremony.”

“Hey, don’t shame me for what I do. It’s totally normal to sleep around.”

“I’m not. You do you,” she chuckles. “Doesn’t mean it’s healthy to use them instead of facing your issues head on.”

You shrug, knowing that part of your life was a way to cope, but it’s also now a closed chapter. You also know you’re not the best at handling your issues.

“So like, what? You both just lie there?”

“Uh, yes? I’m usually tired at the end of the day, so is he. We just… fall asleep on our side of the bed.”

“He’s a werewolf, ___. He doesn’t get tired.”

“Well, he patrols and hunts in the morning then works all day… I assume his energy would at least be drained,” you reason.

“Actually, yes, maybe he’s tired,” she backtracks, prompting you to cock your eyebrow. “He’s tired from carrying this whole relationship on his back.”

You smack her arm this time, unappreciative of how she’s implying that you aren’t pulling your own weight. Over a month in and your loved ones have now resorted to being incredibly blunt towards you when it comes to Jungkook.

You open the door and head to the kitchen where you and Baram begin placing the food in the refrigerator, spotting the fresh rabbit meat that’s definitely from Jungkook’s hunt this morning.

You’re surprised when he opens the back door and comes in with a tall wooden shelf.

“Oh, hi,” he says to you and your sister. “I didn't expect you to be home already. I thought you’d stay longer at your parents’.”

“They made so much food and wanted to bring these over, in case you’re already hungry,” Baram answers. “Sorry, though, if my sister’s a terrible mate,” she follows.

You glare at her and telepathically smack her head.

“She isn’t. Not at all,” Jungkook smiles.

“Hmm, I think she is,” Baram chuckles. “Anyway, what’s that? Did you just build that?” She asks, eyeing the furniture in his hands.

“Yeah,” he looks away. “It’s uh, it’s a bookshelf, actually. For ___.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Me? For what?”

“Your books are still in the box and I know it’s hard for you to search what you want to read,” he says.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, unable to now meet his eyes.

Your box of books has just been in the corner of the room, and he always said it didn’t bother him. It’s your house too, he’d reminded you. But he’d asked you a few times if you needed help when you’d whine about not finding a specific book you’re itching to reread, and you always said no. 

Baram’s disapproving look from next to you says everything, and you’re glad she has the decency to shut her mouth, even if you know what she’d said is right - you’re a terrible mate.

“That’s very sweet and thoughtful of you, Jungkook,” she says. “I wish my sister knew how lucky she is to be fated to you.”

He merely smiles and heads to the bedroom with the shelf. Baram tells you to follow him, and she quickly says her goodbye and heads out the door.

You join Jungkook and see that he’d set aside his wolf bed to make space for your shelf, and you start to place the books in them as he reaches them over to you. 

It’s another quiet affair, but you don’t miss how he stills the few times that his fingers brush yours when he gives you the books.

Later that night, you both lie on your backs and stare at the ceiling, the light of the moon dancing on it.

“Thank you for the shelf, you didn’t have to,” you start, voice soft.

“It’s all I could do, really,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to pretend I actually do anything for you, Jungkook. My sister’s right, I mean—”

“She isn’t,” he interjects. “You aren’t terrible, ___. Far from it.”

You huff in disbelief. There doesn’t seem to be a part of him that’s capable of anger or resentment, even towards you.

“Why do you say that?” You mumble.

“Well, aside from making sure we both get to eat everyday, you, uh, you’re still here. You haven’t left. That’s enough to be thankful for.”

“Your standard is too low, Jungkook,” you tease to mask your shame; he’s thankful for just your presence even if you’re often aloof, while he’s the one making sure you’re well and comfortable. 

“It’s not easy to hang onto something you don’t really believe in anymore,” he says so softly, you almost miss it. “I know it takes a lot of courage to stay.”

The shedding of the leaves bids autumn a farewell, and while the coldest of winter is yet to hit, you already feel your body giving in and cracking in places; you don’t think you could wear enough clothes to keep you warm. Jungkook still isn’t an option, although you’re thankful that his body heat transfers to the bed and that at least keeps you from freezing to death at night. 

Jungkook wishes he could do more, though, more than heating the water for your bath and your tea. The heated floor mats he purchased could only do so much, and you’re always wrapped in blankets and quilts at night yet you still tremble underneath.

He lies next to you; his shirt and pajama pants and a thin blanket over him are enough to get him through this unusually cold evening. 

Not you, though, as you shiver next to him, on your back, with your head pacing side to side. He can hear your shallow breathing and see your cracked lips, and he starts to panic at the thought of you possibly being down with the flu.

He scoots closer ever so lightly and places his palm over your forehead to feel your temperature, and you let out a satisfied hum at his touch. His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it to transfer more of his heat and your breathing steadies. He waits a moment before he removes it, but you involuntarily chase his warmth, and he sighs at his predicament. 

He doesn’t want you to wake up and feel uncomfortable, given how you’d tried hard these past weeks to keep your distance while you sleep, but he knows you’ll get sick at this rate, and your gravitation towards his warm body is what makes him decide. He pulls you towards him, with enough distance for you to breathe, and his hands move from your cheek to your arm to spread out his heat.

Your cherry blossom scent wafts through his senses, and the feeling overwhelms him. You’re his mate but you’re still a stranger, yet having you so close is giving him a sense of warmth, too. He can feel your heart beating steadily and hear your content sighs, and with your breath on his neck, he starts to think he can get used to this. 

There’s comfort in the unfamiliarity, as if there’s more to learn and discover about you behind that detachment and pain. Maybe it’s that part of him that believes things ought to be like this because you’re fated for each other; maybe it’s the mere submission to the Moon and her ways, but as you nuzzle his neck and gingerly place your hand over his chest, he thinks it doesn’t matter. It feels right to be like this with you.

Your touch is light but it’s enough to let the broken parts of him feel again. After all, you’re not the only one who’s in pain. You’re not the only one the Moon has hurt.

Yoongi liked to cup your cheeks. You shiver easily, and so many times during the winter when the both of you would cuddle in his couch with books in your hands, your teeth would chatter. He’d take your face in his hands to soothe you, then when he’d remove them, you’d do it purposely. 

His heat was always enough to keep it from happening again, but you’d keep doing it because you liked the feel of him. He figured that out, and you always gushed at his knowing chuckle and his gummy smile at the thought that you want him that close, something you rarely verbalize. 

You smile at the memory as your mind slowly awakens, his slender fingers enveloping your face, until reality hits you that he’s not here, he hasn’t been for 3 years. But rough hands palm your cheek, and your eyes open at the realization of whose it might be, the concern on how this might’ve happened overtaking you.

Jungkook seems to feel you panic, as he retrieves his hand and slowly opens his eyes. He has that apologetic look on his face again but he’s unable to speak.

“You’re so close to me,” you say, trying to move away.

“You’re, uh, you’re lying on my arm,” he informs you.

You feel the hard limb under your neck and you sit up, unsure how to go about this. You remember laying on your side, cocooned under 3 blankets. You don’t know how you ended up lying face-to-face with Jungkook.

“You were freezing last night,” he starts. “You were tossing and turning, your teeth were chattering, and I was afraid you were gonna get sick so I… I just cupped your cheek to transfer some of my heat and you, uh, you came closer and you stopped shivering. I didn’t do anything else, I promise.”

It’s the last sentence and the way he said it - full of worry and concern - that causes a pang in your chest. 

In the month that you’ve lived with him, he’s been nothing but patient and understanding; you know he’d never do anything that would hurt you or seek to take advantage of you, and for him to think that it’s what you would think makes you uneasy, only because you know it has everything to do with your detachment and misplaced resentment towards him.

He laid next to you, worried about you like he always does, warmed you, and probably missed his patrol duties and morning hunt because he didn’t want to wake you. You feel sorry, but you’re ashamed to say it, so you turn and give him a smile instead, something you rarely do.

“I’m so weak when it comes to the cold,” you state the obvious. “I’m the worst during this time of the year.”

“Namjoon and Seokjin will go to the nearby town in the coming days. I’ll join them and buy hot packs and a heater. The ones here aren’t that good,” Jungkook says. “Hopefully those will help.”

“They will. But so did you.” You turn away and don’t meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

He shyly smiles. “Do you feel sick? You should just rest today. I’ll prepare breakfast. Toast and fruits, right?” He asks, getting off the bed and heading to the bathroom. 

He sees your hesitant face. “I have that everyday,” you pout.

“I can make chicken noodle soup to warm you up,” he smiles. “Is that okay?”

You nod happily and watch him leave the room. You settle in bed for a while, feeling rested, given that you didn’t chatter all night. You’ve been trying to hold it in, but given Jungkook’s abilities, he probably knew but didn’t want to force help if you didn’t want it, but you’re the one who went closer, he said, and you doubt that’s a lie. You seek warmth whenever you feel it, so that’s probably what happened. 

You wash up and head out, the savory scent of your breakfast exciting you. Wrapped in a quilt, you sit on the dining table and watch Jungkook cook.

There were times when he offered to cook a meal but you always told him you had it covered, knowing he does most of the work getting what you need to prepare them, whether it’s the meat from his hunts or the produce from the residents who give them to him as an expression of gratitude for keeping the town safe.

Your sneeze prompts him to turn to you. He makes you a cup of peppermint tea and returns to the kitchen.

“Maybe you should just stay in bed today?” He says, as he places the bowl of soup in front of you. 

“But isn’t there a celebration tonight?” You ask. “It’s for Namjoon and Jin-Ae, isn’t it? Jimin told me about it last night and demanded that it’s the one gathering I can’t miss,” you continue, given the number of them you didn’t go to the past month because you didn’t feel comfortable being around people. 

You wonder why Jungkook didn’t mention it, unlike with the others.

He doesn’t meet your eyes as he slurps the soup. 

“Are you sure? You said you’re not keen on attending those things.”

“I’m not, but it’s Namjoon and Jin-Ae. They’re still our Alpha and Luna. Aren’t we required to attend?” You ask.

“Not really. I was just planning to pass by, check if it’s secure and ensure all the warriors are complete,” he says dryly. 

Given the importance of tonight’s event, you know that the elder wolves will be in attendance. They’re the previous Alphas who’ve left the leadership role for the younger ones, like Namjoon, and provide advice to the Wolf Warrior Clan and visit them. 

In the past, you’d let Taehyung and Mi-Rae wander near them during gatherings where the elders attend so your friends could get information about how Yoongi is doing, maybe see if he mentioned you.

It’s why you want to attend tonight, take your chances with what your human ears could hear or gather. 

“I want to go, though,” you state. “Aside from the office and my parents’ house, I haven’t been out much.”

“It will be cold tonight,” Jungkook raises his brow.

“I can handle it,” you arrogantly say. “If I can’t, well, uh,” you look away. “At least you’re there.”

Your arrogance, as you should’ve known, was unfounded. The sun has just barely set yet you’re already freezing in your layers with a scarf around your neck, and you regret telling Jungkook you don’t need your wool hat when he told you to bring it.

You’re gripping the inside of your mittens, your knees close to buckling while next to you, Jungkook casually walks with his bare hands in his pockets and with nothing but a light jacket on.

Werewolves and their ability to regulate their body temperature, you internally scoff.

He turns to you, as if reading your mind. “You okay?”

You furrow your brows and shake your head no. 

He tries to suppress a laugh but takes his hand out towards you, uncertainty in his eyes at his offer. He’s surprised when you take it, but the glove still provides a barrier, yet even then, you feel a lot better than 10 seconds ago.

You both walk towards the courtyard, not surprised at the lack of thick winter wear for most of those present here, and just as you’re about to call out for your friends, the words get stuck in your dried throat, as if they’ve somehow frozen. The chattering of your teeth begins immediately, and Jungkook turns you towards him and cups your cheeks, instantly warming your whole body.

It’s reflexive, sighing into him like this. But it’s unfamiliar. It’s not the face you’re used to - not the deep yet soft eyes of your past lover, with a look of certainty that was always assuring; not the soft lips and striking yet delicate face of the man who knew you so well. 

Now, there’s no comfortable smile once you stop shaking.

This face is always unsure, questioning, apologetic. It’s youthful, almost vulnerable and innocent, something you’re not used to. Jungkook’s eyes are always wandering, curious, nervous when they’re on you, like now, as they stare at you while he palms your face, and for the first time, your eyes mirror his.

“Do you feel better?” He asks, the worry in his voice unmistakable.

“I do,” you sigh again, feeling your body soften at his touch. “I do now. Thank you.”

His hands move to your ears, then he places them on the sides of your head, earning him a light giggle, prompting him to smile.

“___, Jungkook,” Jin-Ae approaches you. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

You and Jungkook separate, his hands now sliding in his jacket pockets and the nervousness back on his face. 

You turn towards Jin-Ae. Her smile is so tender and motherly with a hint of pride and softness, and with the faintest hint of playfulness as she eyes the moment that she disrupted.

“We couldn’t miss it,” you respond. “We just wanted to give our congratulations to you and Namjoon. They’re growing so fast.”

You look at her grown belly, one that was definitely a lot smaller the last time you saw her. The pregnancy is what your uncle congratulated Namjoon on when you were in the city. It was very early then, and as one who’s not privy to the news around your town, you hadn’t known about it until Taehyung and Mi-Rae filled you in about the pair finally having pups.

It took a while, they said, as Jin-Ae had complications that an Alpha’s bite of healing couldn’t easily mend. Her body went through a lot of internal changes and it took a while for her to be mentally ready for it to go through more, given that her pregnancy will be shorter by half than the regular one; wolves grow way faster than humans do, after all.

It called for a celebration, as this is why wolves mate in the first place - to ensure their population - and with True Mates, these pups are bound to be truly special ones.

“Thank you,” she smiles again, turning from you to Jungkook. 

You’re not quite sure what else to say, as you’d never really been close to her. You know Jungkook was, but he stands next to you, seemingly unknowing of what to say, too. Perhaps he’s just always been like this. Your friends have said that Jungkook tends to keep to himself and doesn’t socialize much, letting his physical prowess do the talking and not much else. 

You’re glad that Namjoon joins you all, his hand protectively wrapping around his mate’s waist and nodding at Jungkook and smiling at you. You greet, and he says he’s happy to be seeing you and Jungkook together at a gathering. 

“I’m glad that things are going well,” he says, and you merely nod at his statement, although you could admit that things are well, insofar as you not snapping at Jungkook goes.

You’re surprised when 2 older men arrive, and it’s the ruby rings on their fingers that signify their status as wolf elders, and you immediately bow and pay your respects. You didn’t expect them to be so close to you, but being that you’re with the Alpha, it’s probably why. Maybe they’re just looking for him.

“Jungkook, ___, we send you blessings as fated mates,” one of them bellows. “We are happy that our Beta has finally found his other half.”

Jungkook bows and pays his respects, too, while you force a smile at the reminder. 

The other one looks at you with what seems to be tenderness in his eyes. 

“Yoongi is happy for you, ___. He asked us to tell you. He knows that Jungkook will do his best to care for and protect you.”

You’re amazed at your resolve, at how you’re able to manage even a nod, much more at your ability to speak and ask how Yoongi is doing.

“He’s well, ___.”

It’s all the elder says, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi himself didn’t want him to say more. 

“That’s… that’s good,” you croak. “Uh, it’s very nice to meet you.”

You bow and excuse yourself to head to the washroom to calm yourself down, knowing you can’t break down in public, and especially in front of the pack Alphas. 

You jerk at the sight of Jungkook pacing outside right as you exit.

It’s those eyes again - the worry, the apology. And he doesn’t need to say anything more.

“I don’t think we should stay late,” you say, quivering. 

“Yes, we shouldn’t.”

You settle on a table with Jimin and your friends, and your aloofness tells them that something is wrong. They don’t prod, though, as you try not to meet their gaze, even Jungkook’s. But you nod when he asks if you want to leave, and your friends know you’ll tell them when you’re ready.

The drive back to the cabin is silent, carrying over to when you lay in bed, back turned to Jungkook, as you stay towards the edge and clutch the blankets for warmth.

You’re shivering, and it’s not the usual one, Jungkook thinks. He lies on his back and listens helplessly as you sniff, and his suspicion is confirmed when you shift to face him, and he turns towards you and sees your swollen eyes and smells your tear-stained cheeks. 

“I’m cold,” is what you say.

He removes his arm from underneath his head and lays it across the bed, a welcome for you to come closer. 

You don’t know what about him that makes you move, that makes you want to feel him near you, but you do. 

You’re upset. It shouldn’t be him you’re lying next to. But between the shackled loneliness or the temporary relief of Jungkook’s warmth, you choose the latter. At least with this, you can pretend.

You know somehow that doesn’t make it any better.

Maybe he knows this. Maybe he doesn’t. 

But with that, you don’t know which is worse.

He curls his arm around you as you lay your head on his shoulder. Your fingers grip his shirt, and Jungkook doesn’t say anything when he feels your tears seep through it. He wipes the ones that threaten to fall from his eyes. He’s crying for you just as much as he’s crying for himself.

It’s another sad, cold night. He’s glad that unlike the ones before, you let him hold you like this. That this time, you make him feel like he isn’t alone, too.

The morning sun seeps through the blinds in the room, casting a certain glow that you’re not used to. In your family’s house, the vast garden and open space sets you up to know when the first light of day has come, and you always bask in the feel of it on your face when you walk out the porch. 

This bit of sunshine you get in your shared room with Jungkook isn’t much but you’ve gotten used to it. You hate to admit that with winter picking up, his warmth feels familiar, too, and just the right amount you need to feel, well, comfortable. 

It’s been a few weeks since you brought yourself to cuddle with Jungkook, as Jimin and Baram insist, although you stick to describing what it is - Jungkook keeping you warm so you don’t die of hypothermia. 

Taehyung and Mi-Rae were annoyingly happy when you told them of this “development,” as they call it, claiming that werewolves crave physical affection and love to cuddle, and they’re amazed at Jungkook’s resolve and self-control at not having done so earlier.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to do anything unless you’re okay with it,” Baram had said, saying it’s what she’s always heard from Hoseok. “He’s pretty passive for a Beta, I must say, definitely not like Seokjin who’d speak his mind and let you know when you’re not doing something right.”

She turned to you then, waiting for you to agree - as Jungkook’s mate, you’re supposed to know this timid nature of his but you merely shrug. 

You know it, though. 

Jungkook is far from aggressive. You haven’t seen him in wolf form but everyone tells you how dominating he is then, living up to his role as the protector whose strength comes close to that of Namjoon’s unrivaled one, you’ve heard. Jungkook is said to be large and formidable yet quick and agile, feared by other packs and can take wild animals on his own. 

It’s hard to reconcile the stories with the man who sleeps next to you every night and comes home to you everyday. You’ve heard Taehyung growl in his sleep during those times you’d had your sleepovers, and you’d slapped him multiple times with how loud he was. Jungkook, surprisingly, has only ever done so recently, at least when you lay close to him and his head finds itself near your neck. But even those are restrained, muted. 

He’s quiet when he gets ready - no fuss, no unnecessary sounds; he’s never complained about anything, whether it was the weather, a broken lamp, a particularly hard to cut wood, or even your cooking. He goes on about his day quietly, asking you if there’s anything he can get you before he leaves for the shop or the pack house. He always sends a message to ask if you need a ride from work, but you never do, as you enjoy doing that yourself.

You’re cooking when he comes home, and the first thing he always does is ask if you need help, which you rarely do, unless it was cutting more wood for the fireplace. He does the laundry when you’re unable, picks up things in the store if he passes by, and offers to take you to your family’s house every weekend. 

It almost feels natural, how you both get into this routine. Everything seems so simple - he’s a simple man, like you are. He likes his runs in the forest and his tree-cutting. You like sitting on a mat out back to read your books and going to the market then cooking or baking something. You’re never in each other’s way, and unlike the first few nights when you’d snap at him every chance you got, that hasn’t happened much recently.

If it was just about living with each other, you wouldn’t have a problem. But he’s your mate. It’s supposed to be more. It’s supposed to be more than just warming your body when you’re cold, more than just sharing a meal that’s meant to sustain both of you… it should be more than just waiting until everything makes sense because at the end of the day, Jungkook doesn’t have your heart; the man who does is somewhere else in the world, living out his Fate that doesn’t include you, while you try to just live through yours.

This simple life is the one you always imagined you’d have. You never wanted grand things. You just wanted a home and to be around people you care about, with the person you love. Somehow that last one was too much for the Moon to grant you. 

You think about this again, about what you promised the Moon that one desperate night that you would try. And you bring yourself to find comfort, and not just warmth, in Jungkook’s arms, as his one hand drapes over your waist, his finger ghosting over the sliver of flesh that’s exposed from your movements throughout the night. 

You try to fix the sweatshirt you’re wearing, with the bottom of it raised and the sleeve sliding off your shoulder, so you move, and immediately you hear the grunts from Jungkook behind you. He lies still and you’re alarmed at the gash you see on his arm that’s hanging over you. You continue your motions, moving your shoulders then your hips to try to wake him up, earning you a throaty groan as he buries his head on your hair-draped neck.

You stop instantly, though, at the feel of his hardened length at the back of your thigh, and you hold your breath at the thought because this hasn’t happened before. You’ve woken up with Jungkook holding you from behind - the first time a way too awkward experience but something you got over, since it was warmer that way. But today just shows how much closer you two actually get when you sleep.

Now you can’t stop thinking about it, how hard he is next to you - a natural thing, you know, but somehow it’s making your head spin and you start to move again.

“Is this you shivering?” He asks with his gravelly voice. “Do you need more heat?”

He reflexively pulls you closer, and it’s that moment he realizes what he’s done. Jungkook mentally smacks himself for forgetting how his body naturally reacts, especially when it’s being rubbed on like this - intentionally or not. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

You hear the panic in his voice as he retrieves his arm and moves away, and you feel the cold immediately rush in. There’s silence in the room and you refuse to look at him, unsure how to handle this one. You’re reminded that your mating process hasn’t actually started, because you two have never gotten this close. 

But he has a gash and you wonder what other wounds he has. Did he go for a hunt in the morning and got hurt? Did someone do this to him?

“Your arm…” you say hesitantly.

“Uh, I wasn’t sure if it was okay to have it on you. But it—”

“No, I mean. How did you get hurt? When?”

You cringe at the worry-laced tone of your voice but you can’t help it. You’d never seen a wound on his body since you started living here.

“A bear got caught in one of the traps at a nearby mountain. They called for help because it was hurt and was about to go on a rampage,” he explains, still some distance away.

“But how are you the one hurt?”

“Uh, I tried to stop the rampage,” he responds shyly.

You don’t get to stop yourself from turning and he’s as surprised as you are when you do. But you stare at his arm, the nasty gash still dangerously red.

“It’s nothing, ___.”

“It looks terrible.”

“He almost cut my arm off,” he says casually.

You glare at him, as if scolding him for taking it lightly.

“This was worse a few hours ago. It’s healing fast. I mean, that’s what happens with us. You know that, right?”

Of course you do. You’d just never seen the actual healing of a wound happen. Yoongi never showed you, never wanted to worry you even if no wound is ever serious for their kind.

“Yeah, but…” you meet his eyes. “Has it been tended to?”

“Yes, I ran to the pack house immediately. This will be gone tomorrow.”

You bite your lip in embarrassment for even worrying, but your fingers mindlessly trace the laceration, and you wonder how strong that bear must’ve been to cut through Jungkook’s skin like this.

He flinches, not from any pain but from the coldness of your touch, one he’s never felt this way - gentle and intentional. But you take it differently.

“I’ll make you some green tea, that might help,” you say, and get off the bed to quickly wash up then head to the kitchen to prepare the drink.

Jungkook smiles in your wake, at the affection you initiated. This temporarily eases his mind at making you feel uncomfortable over his morning wood poking your thigh. 

The pain on his arm really isn’t much. It’s bearable, at least. He knows he has to visit the clinic to make the healing faster because he needs his arm for work, but seeing the green tea on the table and the sight of you pacing, trying to remember the dish that your grandfather makes you when you’re hurt, is enough to make him feel better. 

Jungkook is the one always worrying. He knows you do that; he sees it enough when you engage with your sister and Jimin and your friends. He didn’t think it would make him feel this hopeful to see you be worried about him. 

He peeks inside the kitchen with his cup and you turn to him, eyes flitting to his groin before his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, he’s tamed,” he clarifies, eyes widening again. “I mean, yes, I’m okay. Just, uh, sorry about earlier,” he looks away.

“It’s natural, Jungkook. You don’t have to be sorry for that, for anything, really. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

He hums, delighting in what seems to be beef and radish soup that you plan to make.

You start preparing the meat and cutting vegetables midway for the broth. 

“My grandfather would make this for me when I was sick,” you say, “and I learned to make it for Baram, too.”

You turn to him. “I know wolves don’t get sick but uh, you’re hurt, and I hope this will help.”

“It already has.”

Your shy smile meets his. And for the first time, you don’t look away.

You survive the rest of winter with an additional blanket and Jungkook’s arms around you at night then wearing multiple layers everywhere else in the cabin. You’re unsure how you survived this in the past, but then again, you didn’t live higher up in the mountains and you had a better functioning heating system at your parents’ house. But what you initially dreaded wasn’t actually so bad.

You’d read by the fireplace in the living room while Jungkook continued his wood-cutting and wood crafts in his garage, all the while unbothered by the cold. You’d clean around the house while he plowed the snow. You’d both watch the news and whatever’s showing on TV, with hot ciders and baked pastries in hand, the silence between you two having turned comfortable. 

The start of spring brings with it new challenges, though, as your dependence on Jungkook and his warmth lessens; your body no longer seeks him like it used to. You shed 2 layers of blankets, wear loose pajamas, and stick to your side. 

You assume Jungkook notices but like always, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t come closer as per usual and you’re back to waking up to an empty bed in the morning, with him returning to his usual hours of patrolling and hunting that he put off ever since you started snuggling to him. 

You felt his absence that first morning but you didn’t want your heart to betray you, so you went about your day as per usual. 

Life goes on normally again - work and chores during the weekdays and staying with your friends and family during the weekends.

Your job at the town’s records office is a lot more interesting than you expected. You gather everything - from complaints about a broken streetlight, to announcements of a child’s graduation, or someone’s retirement. You feel like you’ve gotten to know your town’s residents and gotten closer with them in just the several months you’ve been working way more than you did in all the years you lived here before you left. 

You like receiving the mail, though, as you sort through them and see which child sent gifts to their parents, or which one went on a shopping spree. You smile at that thought, at the receivers getting their items and letters when you arrange for their delivery the next day. 

You work on your tasks as usual, humming along to the sounds of the radio, filing documents and labeling them. The van carrying deliveries and mail that goes around various towns arrives, as that service is centralized in your province. You cheerily greet the woman you’ve been seeing thrice a week and she smiles in return. 

She places the big box next to the receiving desk and signs the papers, then leaves you to sort out the contents. It’s the common ones you get, and with the clock reading 4PM, you think that planning for tomorrow’s deliveries would be your last task for the day.

You take a medium-sized box and list the recipient’s address, not minding much that the address is the pack house. They get lots of mails, you found out, as some other packs and wolves who have scattered across the country prefer to communicate with your town this way. 

It’s the lack of a sending address that catches your attention, and you inspect it as part of your responsibility. 

“Hyun-ki, can you check this out, please?” You turn to your workmate who’s busy encoding something on the desktop.

“Sure,” he says, walking towards you. “What’s this, no return address?”

“Yes, but it’s addressed to the pack house, though.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brows, taking the box and shaking it, hearing only the faintest clank.

He sniffs it, his eyes squinting, until they widen in recognition.

“It’s from the Wolf Warrior Clan,” he says, the words causing your heart to stop.

“How—how do you know?” You stutter, not expecting any kind of mail from there, not like you know if they ever sent anything here. You never received a single thing from Yoongi in all these years.

“They masked it with something so regular wolves like me and other creatures can’t smell it,” he explains. “Only the Alpha can. And from what I heard, no one really knows where the Wolf Clan resides. But we haven’t received anything from them in years, as far as I know.”

“Makes sense,” you manage to say. “But, uh, doesn’t that mean this is important?”

“Could be,” he shrugs. “But that’s scheduled for tomorrow. Do you want me to—”

“Can I?” You interject. “I mean, can I be the one to bring it to the pack house? I’m going there anyway; I told Jungkook I’d meet him there,” you lie.

“Oh right. Yes, sure,” he smiles. “Just don’t forget to list it as a personal delivery.”

“I won’t!” You grin. “I’ll just list the rest and head out.”

You do as you say, working as fast as possible to get things done so you could ride your scooter to the pack house, deliver this to Namjoon, and ask if it has anything to do with Yoongi. But the longer you stare at it, the faster your heart thumping becomes. There’s discomfort you’re feeling, a kind of worry and fear that you can’t shake off.

You haphazardly finish your task and head out, waving goodbye to Hyun-ki. You ride the scooter as fast as you can and park outside the pack house. You rush inside, calling for Namjoon, uncaring of the chatter of the other werewolves and pups in the common space. 

“Namjoon! Alpha!” You call out, getting desperate by the second.

Whatever’s in here feels important, and it doesn’t matter if it’s not your place, but if this has anything to do with Yoongi, you have to know right away.

“Namjoon! Namjoo—”

“Hey, ___.” He says, exiting a room and running down the stairs. “Is everything okay?”

You’re panting, blinking away the tears in your eyes with how anxious you are, and you give him the box.

“This arrived in the mail today,” you say shakily. “It’s, uh, it’s from the—”

“Wolf Warrior Clan, yes,” he furrows his brows, looking serious now. “Thank you, ___, for personally delivering this. I’ll go and—”

“Please, I need to know if it’s about him,” you plead.

“___, whatever is inside this is something that we will share with everyone else when it’s time.”

“And when is that?” You demand. 

You’re towing a line here, you know this. While you’re friends with Namjoon and he’s not a feared Alpha, you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this. Being his Beta’s mate doesn’t absolve you from anything.

“I’m afraid I won’t know until I open it and see for myself what’s inside,” he says, stern but with the faintest hint of sympathy. 

“Namjoon, please,” your voice cracks. “I know you rarely get mails from them so this… this is important and it’s enough that he was taken from me and I need to know if—”

“Namjoon, you called?”

Jungkook’s voice pierces through the room, and it dawns on you that the earlier howl you heard was the Alpha calling for his Betas, as you see Seokjin enter right after. It’s true, you think, that Namjoon is the only one who could smell what’s inside.

You turn to Jungkook and his face is painted with worry at the sight of you, knowing you rarely ever come here.

“___?” He says. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh, something came from the Wolf Warrior Clan in the mail. I came here right after work to give it to Namjoon. It… it might be about Yoongi,” you stammer.

“Is it?” Jungkook turns to Namjoon, who gives him a certain look - a signal, you think, as your mate places his arm on your shoulder.

“___, I’ll take you home, okay?” He says, voice low.

“It’s about him, isn’t it?” You meet Jungkook’s worried eyes. 

“It’s more of a matter to be discussed amongst us,” Namjoon stands his ground. 

You look at him then at Jungkook’s, your eyes begging them to let you in. There’s so much tension you feel and it’s adding to your worry that something happened, and you need to know what it is.

“Jungkook, I won’t get to rest unless I know. Please,” you choke back your tears. 

He looks at your sullen state, the most emotional you’ve looked at him since he can remember, and he wants nothing more than to hold you right now, comfort you until you feel better. Based on Namjoon’s howl and the look he just gave, it doesn’t seem good, and much as Jungkook wants to protect you from whatever that is, he knows you enough that you’ll keep trying. Yoongi means too much to you for you to allow yourself to stay in the dark about how he is. 

As Jungkook is about to ask Namjoon to reconsider, Amma enters the house and stands next to you. She gives you a warm smile and turns to Namjoon.

“Perhaps we should all head to our house for this,” she says. “Namjoon, she needs to know.”

Your heart dropping is immediate, and you take Jungkook’s hand to keep you steady, the thrumming of your chest suddenly making you unable to breathe. The sounds are drowned out by the million possibilities in your mind, and you lose yourself to them until you feel Jungkook tugging your hand. 

It’s as if your body is preparing you for what’s to come, as you barely register seeing Jin-Ae arrive, and all of you exiting the pack house to walk several meters to Amma’s residence. 

You’re in the sitting room, standing by one of the couches as Namjoon sits on it and proceeds to open the package. You barely make out an intricate emerald green box, with a lock that looks complicated but one that Namjoon easily opens. There’s a letter it seems, one he unfolds then places on the table.

His face is somber, as if he has so much to say but doesn’t know how to start. You’re about to ask again what it is, if it has anything to do with Yoongi, when Namjoon takes in his hand an all too familiar book necklace that leaves you paralyzed.

“I don’t know how to say this, ___,” he says.

“No,” your lips tremble.

“He’s gone, ___. Yoongi’s gone.”

Series Masterlist

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[itsthemysterykids]

Clone High AU

Coraline- Clone of Amelia Earhart

Goes missing a lot

She’s always riding on someone’s shoulders

Hangs out on the roof

Wybie- Clone of Mansa Musa

Giving his money away, it comes right back to him

Student council treasurer

Surprisingly, not very popular

Norman- Clone of Nostradamus

He’s always making these wild predictions no one believes… Until they come true

Will tell you your astrological sign

Member of the weirdos club with Agatha

Neil- Clone of James Creighton

Trying to get the school to fund a hockey team

Until then, he’s cool playing in the halls

Always the butt of Canadian jokes

Dipper- Clone of Ivan T. Sanderson

Obsessed with all things cryptids

Suspicious of the school’s intentions for the students

But no one listens

Mabel- Clone of Coco Chanel

The school’s top trendsetter

“NO CAPES!”

Dramatic outfit change in the middle of the day

Raz- Clone of Jules Léotard

Wears a leotard under his clothes. You never know when a performance opportunity might come

Vent gremlin with Eggs

Sitting anywhere other than a chair

Lili- Clone of Margaret Mee

Will chain herself to a tree about to be cut down

Puts up fliers about deforestation, and they’re graphic

Can and will take control of a bulldozer and chase after people trying to cut down a tree

Kubo- Clone of Sanada Yukimura

Has different blades hidden somewhere on his person

Kinda emo

Gets along well with Agatha

Eggs- Clone of Floyd Collins

Vent gremlin

Always digging for something

Tracks in dirt

Winnie- Clone of Marie Antoinette

Has a lot of wigs

LOVES cake

Has a ton of fancy gowns

Agatha- Clone of Sarah Good

Terrified of fires and pilgrims

Not a fan of modern slang, but likes cellphones

That one loner girl

Kat- Clone of Harriet Wilson

Always writing in her black journal

Tunes people out with her studded headphones

Hangs out with Wybie and Raúl

Raúl- Clone of Wifredo Lam

Never leaves home without his spray paint and a gas mask

Creates angsty art on any wall he can find

Gets along well with Lili. He designs most of her posters

Stan: So, how’d the kids take it when you told them they’ve been frozen for twenty years?

Ford: Oh, I think they handled it well.

*Earlier*

Ford: For anyone who thinks it is 2003… You are wrong!

Clone Kids: … *Freaking out*

Coraline: *Holding up a cellphone* WHAT IS THIS?! *Points to a laptop* WHAT IS THAT?! *Points to Ford’s sneakers* WHAT ARE THOOOOOSE?!

Ford: Ah, you’re catching on already.

Lili: This isn’t real! *Hits herself over the head with a chair*

Neil: Why is the world so warm?!

Norman: Guys! Guys!… Blockbuster is gone!

Raúl: NOOOOO!!

Kat: WHERE IS DESTINY’S CHILD?!

Wybie: There was a brother in office?!

Mabel: I CAN’T HANDLE THESE CHANGES!

[4townie]

Road to 4☆TOWN

part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13

“Ugh, I didn’t think that photoshoot would end. I never wanna see a camera again.” Jesse groaned to himself as he came up to his apartment. “Hey, babe, I’m—…” He paused in the doorway and looked around. “Selina?”

There was a groan in the bathroom, and Jesse followed the sound.

“Hey, Jes.” Selina waved from the bathroom floor. “I’d kiss you but I don’t think you wanna taste what’s just been in my mouth.”

“Uh…” Jesse stared at her nervously. “Can I get you anything? Some water, your headscarf…maybe a toothbrush…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Selina waved a hand. “I actually might be here a while longer, so why don’t you get ready for bed or whatever.”

Jesse took a few steps into the bathroom. “Are you sure? Cuz I can—”

“Jesse, if you take one more step, this will be your first and last child.” Selina growled, causing Jesse to freeze in place.

“Oh. Okay then.” He backed away slowly. “I guess I’ll…leave you to it.”

Selina sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just a lot dealing with these hormones and all the symptoms and you not being here all day—which I know isn’t your fault.”

“Aw, Selina, you know I wish I could be here more often.” Jesse said, leaning on the doorframe. “I also wish I could hug you right now but I’m a little afraid of you.”

Selina laughed. “I promise extra cuddles when I feel better.” She pushed her afro back a bit. “Okay, maybe I do want some water.”

Jesse smiled at her lovingly. “Anything for you, light of my life.”

“Ugh, you’re so sappy.” Selina rolled her eyes. “You guys are gonna come out of this with the cheesiest love songs, I just know it.”

Jesse stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. “Oh my gosh…why didn’t I think of that before?”

———

Jesse sat against the wall, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

Taeyoung took a seat beside him. “Whatcha got there, bud?”

“Just some dumb lyrics or whatever.” Jesse said without looking up. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now…”

Taeyoung’s eyes scanned the page, and his eyes widened as he read the lyrics. “Robaire, I think you might wanna come see this!”

Robaire strolled across the room. “What’s up, Tae?”

Taeyoung snatched Jesse’s notebook. “Check out this song Jesse’s writing.” He handed the book to Robaire.

“Taeyoung!” Jesse whined. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“Are you sure?” Robaire looked up from the notebook. “Because this song is really good. Who’d you write it for?”

Jesse blushed. “Uh…I…some girl from…highschool. Oh wow that wasn’t even a lie.”

Robaire stared at him. “Oh my gosh, I’m gonna owe Z a smoothie.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“So?” Taeyoung popped up. “What do you think?”

“I actually think it’d make a great ballad.” Robaire nodded.

“Wait, really?” A small smile crept onto Jesse’s lips.

“Yeah, of course. I can tell you put your heart into these lyrics…although that makes me think I should be a little concerned.”

“Pssssh!” Jesse grabbed the notebook back. “It’s not too dramatic…is it?”

“Dramatic, slightly angsty.” Taeyoung shrugged. “Perhaps there’s something you’d like to talk about?” He nudged Jesse with a wink.

Jesse looked back and forth between Robaire and Taeyoung. “Um…maybe we can talk about it over the weekend?”

“Wait, wait, wait, for real?” Robaire’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.” Jesse sighed. “My birthday’s on Sunday, and I was thinking of having a little outing if you all wanted to come.”

“Oh my gosh!” Taeyoung had stars in his eyes. “AARON, GET OVER HERE!”

T and Z both looked up. “Which one?” They called in unison.

“BOTH OF YOU!” Taeyoung waved them over. “It’s team bonding time!”

“So…since my roommate likes the outdoors so I was thinking we could meet at the pier in the afternoon and hang out.” Jesse suggested with a shrug.

“Oh so we finally get to meet this mysterious roommate of yours.” T grinned. “Let’s hope they have a better sense of humor than you. You barely chuckle at my jokes.”

“That’s because you’re not funny.” Robaire narrowed his eyes. “Z only laughs cuz you’re cute.”

“Hey!” Z blushed intensely.

“Actually, my roommate is sort of…perfect.” Jesse smiled to himself. “I think you’re all gonna like her.”

———

Fun Fact: Jesse’s (hc) birthday June 2 really was on a Sunday in 1996!