#I need more Gabriel in snow

[isharaneith]

February 2023 companion icons

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[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 13 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: college anxiety, angst, Gabrielle, Lisa, alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating, a frat party, explicit content: implied sex

☆word count: 8.9k

☆a/n: more angst oop- I hope you guys like it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, August 30

Summer came and went. Like everything in life, it became just a moment in time, a short movie consisting of flashing scenes of friendship and fun and sun, of pools and tanning and hikes. Summer was perfect, summer was healing, yet summer couldn’t heal everything.

Summer hasn’t healed a doe-eyed boy from your heart, but you think it’s okay. You think, perhaps your love for Jungkook is just everlasting, another one of those memories you know you’ll cherish for the rest of your life.

You reckon, if you were to have kids one day and they’d asked you who your first love was, you wouldn’t be able to answer their father.

It will always be Jungkook, no matter the bitterness and the pain of the ending.

It’s his necklace you wear on your heart every day after all.

You’ve worked all summer, amassing money to cover your expenses for the year. You’ve gone back home with Taehyung for a week your mother had off, and you spent it camping like you did when you were kids, gaze getting lost in starlight and sun rays on the water, reflections of light that left afterimages on your retina.

Much like Jungkook is an afterimage on your heart. Never fully erased, yet the pain isn’t as sharp anymore. Like the time soothed its edges, reminding you of the good part, allowing you to let go of the bad.

The first news you had of Jungkook this summer was stories posted on a Saturday evening, of him and Lisa and friends in New York City. Turns out Lisa landed an internship at an architect firm in New York through her father’s connections, and turns out it was all she needed to be welcomed into Jeon Jungkook’s world over there.

You’d been jealous back then, bitterly so. Yoongi, bless his heart, had forced you to hang out at his place, claiming the empty room needed to be repainted before Namjoon moved in for the semester. It’d been a good distraction, and by the end of the weekend, you’d realized that Jungkook was allowed to have friends, to move on from your idyllic moment in his life.

It hurt, but it was a sign of healing.

You got closer to Yoongi over the summer. Learned all about his past, about his high school and how his parents were supportive when he came out, yet reluctant when he brought his first boy home. He’d told you how he met Hoseok in his last year of high school despite not attending the same school, and how their friendship had immediately blossomed.

Only to wither in April, when Hoseok had chosen to leave. None of you or your friends have had any news of him since then, like he wiped his existence from all of your lives like it was nothing. It’s been hard for Yoongi, harshly so, so you’ve made sure to always be available for him, too.

Namjoon and Nabi’s relationship didn’t suffer such a fate. They’ve only been growing stronger over the summer, proof that despite Namjoon getting out of his relationship with his ex and jumping in the one with Nabi right away, they were meant for each other. In truth, you’ve never seen anyone love each other like Namjoon and Nabi do, and maybe that most of all has healed your bleeding heart.

There has to be someone out there who’ll love you like you’re the one who paints his every sunset. 

Seokjin wasn’t on the receiving end of such a relationship. He’d confessed to Ria halfway through the summer, telling her that he couldn’t do the see-saw anymore, that he needed everything or nothing, and in good Ria fashion, your friend ran. She ran and ran, until Seokjin told her he was ashamed of having believed she deserved to be loved.

The blow has been hard on Ria, and she hasn’t been with anyone since then. Hasn’t mentioned Seokjin once either, but you know that, whenever you go out, he’s the one she’s looking for. 

The strangest part of this summer happened on a random Tuesday evening when you’d just come home from work. Taehyung and Ariane, ever so the lovebirds, had been hanging out in the living room when you’d crossed the threshold. Taehyung’s gaze had shot to you, and he’d uttered words you think have been carved into your brain.

“Did you know Jungkook is the heir of JJS pharmaceuticals?” 

You did. You knew about his father’s company - he’d told you once when you’d been lying with your head on his chest, one of the rare times he’d talked about his family after your weekend escapade to New York.

But you knew Jungkook’s existence had been mostly a secret, his father refusing to announce his existence to the world because Jungkook had refused to study at an Ivy League College.

At the confusion on your face - or rather, the masked pain you’d been hiding for weeks and months - Taehyung had added, “There was a conference press, and he’s all over social media.”

He was. You found out quickly enough, articles and articles about him showing up on your Instagram as well. You’d seen pictures from the press conference: though his father had been smiling wide, Jungkook had only been staring at the camera, like he’d wished he could disappear.

You don’t know what led him to accept a position at his father’s company before he’d even graduated, but you knew then and know now that it had to not have been his choice.

So indeed, summer came and went until it became just a memory, and the new semester now looms over the horizon, a reminder that though your skin might have been sunkissed these last few months, it’s now time to return to reality.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, indulging in Buldak noodles as you read a book about Faes and High Lords and a Night Court. You’ve started reading again over the summer, another way to escape that helped fill your breaks at work when you didn’t go out for lunch with your coworkers. It was nice to reconnect with your previous love for reading - indeed, you’d spent years in middle school and high school getting lost in fantasy and dystopian worlds, and recovering this part of you might have been another way to heal.

It’s reminded you that every story is worth telling, even those that don’t end well.

So you sit at the kitchen table, halfway done with your noodles, when the front door opens and closes. 

“Hello!” you greet out of reflex.

Taehyung and Ariane were out shopping for groceries, and though they haven’t left a long time ago, you assume it’s them coming home.

“Do you need any help?” you ask as no one replies, which is strange.

They’re always talking about everything and nothing, joking around like they’re the only people in the world. It’s something you do find cute, but that always grates your nerves in all the wrong ways.

Where Nabi and Namjoon have been making you feel hopeful when it comes to love, Taehyung and Ria have made you jaded too.

The silence prolongs, and you don’t even hear them taking off their shoes. You furrow your brows, wondering if they’re trying to prank you. So you put your book down even though you are in the middle of a good scene, and you push up from the table, heading towards the kitchen’s doorway.

You reckon, maybe you should have expected it. You’d known he was coming back at some point - he still has a year left of college. But you didn’t think he’d show up on an early Friday evening, clutching his duffel bag and standing by the door like he’s a guest in his own home.

He’s changed. The first thing you notice is that he’s changed: he doesn’t have the eyebrow piercing anymore, his hair is shorter - almost entirely shaved at the sides - and though he still has the lip piercings, he looks different than what you remember.

As if a few months was enough to blur your memories of Jeon Jungkook, and the wound you’d thought to be healed over the last few months reopens, pouring liquid lava on your entire body until you think you’re burning, and not in a good way.

He’s dressed in all black, like some things don’t change after all. He looks more built than he was last semester, like he’s gone to the gym a lot more over the summer. His tattoos have also changed - they’ve been coloured, some of them, as if he tried to put colours back into his life.

You hope it worked. But when you hold his gaze, the heaviness making you want to disappear through the floor, you think maybe it didn’t work at all.

“Y/n,” he greets.

His voice has changed too. Or maybe it’s just the emotions, maybe it’s just the fact that the last thing he ever told you were those words in the letter you keep hidden in your night table, words you’ve romanticized every night trying to fall asleep.

Not that you would tell anyone.

“Jungkook,” you reply in the same tone.

He nods once, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he takes off his shoes. You watch him, dumbly standing in the doorway, and he shoots you a look once his shoes - black boots that look far too warm for the summer - are off.

“How are you?”

His three words throw you off. They make you feel like last semester might have been a construct of your imagination, but then again you hold that letter too dearly, and the memories of him have been your favourites for months now.

“I’m okay,” you reply, nodding once. “How are you?”

He pulls on his piercings, the gesture familiar yet so different than how you’ve been imagining it every night. “I’m chill.”

He starts to walk towards his room, but he stops halfway there, glancing over your head into the kitchen. 

“Want something to eat?” you ask, and you wonder if he hears your heart as it picks up in your chest.

You see the moment he spies the Buldak noodles on the table. He smiles softly, with his eyes first, and you think maybe this is it.

Maybe he came back home.

Came back home to you.

But then his features fall, the smile vanishing and darkness invading his gaze. He shakes his head no, nodding towards his room. “Thanks, but I gotta unpack.”

You watch him walk the rest of the way towards his bedroom. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, yet he freezes there. His shoulders tense, and even though you don’t see his features, you know he wants to say something else.

You hope he will, hope he’ll say something that might mend the bridge between the two of you. That might erase this abyss between you and him until the ending disappears.

You know it’s because you haven’t seen him in a long time. Know that, when it all comes down to it, you wouldn’t go back to him - he broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to return to him. But you like to imagine that you would as he stands there, that you’d run to him if he turned and said the right words.

But he doesn’t. He sighs, and then he walks into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. And as he disappears from view, you feel yourself stumble, like you’ve taken a hit right to the chest. You lay a hand over your beating heart, almost expecting to feel blood trickling through your fingers.

As if he’s just broken your heart all over again, torn it from your ribcage. Yet it breaks - you didn’t think he still had that power over you.

Hell, you thought you’d been moving on.

You walk back into the kitchen, the room spinning around you. You drop in the chair you were sitting in before, eyeing your book. And though you want to get lost in the fantasy world again, you’re bleeding out on your chair, pain burning along every single one of your nerves.

How are you supposed to share a roof with the one that broke your heart?

The answer is easy. You can’t.

You need to get out of here, and quickly.

Monday, September 2nd 

Your first day back to college is long. You’ve got two classes - a morning and an afternoon class, both of them three hours long. 

When the second one ends - luckily half an hour early ‘because it’s the first day’ as the professor said - you make your way out of class with Nabi. She’s typing away on her phone, likely asking Namjoon when he’ll be home, yet she follows you as you head to the dorms.

You’ve been crashing at the girls’ dorm over the weekend, as you try to figure out what you should do. You haven’t figured anything yet - Taehyung’s been telling you that you shouldn’t move out, asking if it’s because of Ariane moving in, and though you’ve been good at avoiding mentioning Jungkook, there’s just so much you can do before you burst and admit that it’s because of him.

But it’s okay - Nabi’s been staying with Yoongi and Namjoon, so you have her bed all to yourself, and Ria and you have been treating it like a massive sleepover, doing face masks every night and getting mildly drunk on Saturday.

Nabi sighs as you walk towards the dorms, and you throw her a look. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like this semester is about to be the worst,” she admits, slightly shaking her head. “Namjoon basically confirmed it.”

You hook your arm with hers, resting your head on her shoulder. “Baby, it’s fine. We’re in this together.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the top of our class.”

“And you’re the second,” you remind her. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nods, heaving out a heavy breath again. “Is it bad that I’m already anxious?”

You don’t reply right away, as you pass through a group of engineer students gathered in front of a class, most likely getting ready for an evening class. An evening class on the first Monday… 

You feel bad for them.

“It’s not bad,” you reply once you’ve finally walked past. “It means that you care about your grades. You just need to not let it eat you alive.”

“I think I’m just realizing that getting into med school might be harder than we thought,” she says with a sigh.

You stop, tugging on her arm so that she stops too. “No, I’m not having any of that,” you tell her. “We’ll both get in, Nabi, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, folding her arms on her chest.

“Yup.” You nod forcefully. “Dead serious. And after that, it’s smooth sailing until residency. And then we get a residency together, and we become sexy doctors.”

“Bruh,” she lets out, and she chuckles.

You’re happy your distraction works because you truthfully didn’t know where you were headed with it. “I promise!” you insist. “Give us a couple of years, and we’ll have our own practice.”

“You want to be a surgeon, and I want to be an ophthalmologist,” she reminds you. “Not quite sure we’d practice at the same place.”

You shrug, and you start walking towards the dorms again. “To be fair, we’ll probably both end up at a hospital. We just need to find a way to work at the same one.”

She purses her lips. “That sounds doable.”

You smirk mischievously. “Damn right.”

*****

Nabi ends up staying with you and Ria at the dorm for a couple of hours after class, and you order takeout that you eat sitting in a circle on the floor like you usually do when you do pre-drinks before a party. It’s fun, more chill than a pre-party gathering, and Ria tells you all about how she ran into Seokjin on campus today.

“He didn’t even look at me,” she admits. “What a dick.”

You exchange a knowing look with Nabi. “Maybe he didn’t see you,” you try.

“He ignores me when we all hang out together too,” she points out. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

Nabi scrunches up her nose. “Yeah… you did lead him on for months.”

“Not my fault if he fell in love,” Ria grumbles, her gaze dropping to the rice bowl she’s eating.

“It might not be your fault, but you still led him on,” Nabi pushes.

Ria huffs a breath, scoffing, but she doesn't say anything. She never really does when it comes to Seokjin anyway.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with him again?” you ask.

The scalding look you earn would put a dragon to shame. “Because I don’t want to be in a relationship,” she says, sounding like you a year ago when your friends had been pestering you about Hoseok.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“We all know he’d treat you like a goddess though,” Nabi says. “The guy’s a hopeless romantic.”

Ria rolls her eyes. “Cringe.”

You playfully push her, and she bursts out laughing. You don’t miss the way her cheeks have dusted with pink though - and neither does Nabi - but you don’t mention it.

You have a feeling Ria is lying to herself more than she’s lying to the both of you, but you’d never dare tell her. She’ll figure it out on her own or not, and that’s what being in college is.

You try stuff; some of it works, and some doesn’t. 

Jungkook invades your thoughts, your chest aching all over again. You reach for the peach at the end of the chain, playing with the pendant mindlessly as if that can tame the ache, push it back to the back rooms of your mind.

It barely works, yet you manage to be able to let go of him after a few deep breaths, and a prolonged silence of Nabi staring at Ria while the latter is solely focused on eating. Your unease went unnoticed, which you reckon is a relief.

Confiding in them about Jungkook has helped over the summer, obviously, but there are some things you want to keep to yourself. Because Jungkook deserves the centrepiece in all of the secrets you’ve ever held - he was the grandest of them all last semester after all.

Still is, considering you’ve been lying to Taehyung about him all summer. Not that you really had to lie. You just avoided mentioning Jungkook, staying vague about your semester while Taehyung told you everything about Paris. 

And so you end up saying goodbye to Nabi when she decides to go over to Yoongi and Namjoon’s apartment - Namjoon was quick to take Hoseok’s old room, seeking to leave the dorms once and for all - and you and Ria watch Demon Slayer, her favourite anime.

Coincidentally one of Jungkook’s favourite animes too, not that it matters.

You sigh - reminders of him are everywhere lately, and though you have been moving on over the summer, the ache has been revived. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he at home, watching anime or playing video games? Is he hanging out with Taehyung, with Jimin and their other friends? Or is he locked up in his room like he was all of Friday, before you fled the apartment?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Because Jungkook will always matter: he meant too much to you. Still does, and you don’t know what to make of it.

Ria sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts as the episode finishes. You glance at her - you’re lying side by side on her bed, a laptop in between you to watch the show.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

She purses her lips, shrugging, though it proves to be awkward considering the position. “I don’t know. It’s just… Is something wrong with me?”

A concerned crease appears between your eyebrows. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know…” She pauses, gaze still focused on the laptop screen as if she can’t bring herself to meet your own. “Why am I so opposed to relationships? To love in general?”

Oh. 

“Oh Ria…” you let out.

“Don’t,” she warns. “I don’t want to be pitied.”

You press your lips in a tight line, nodding once. She chuckles, and then she starts the next episode, like she needs a moment to collect her thoughts.

“It’s just…” she says as Tanjiro fights a demon, the fight continued from the last episode. “I’m aware that Seokjin would be good for me. I enjoyed spending time with him too. But the second he mentioned feelings…”

“It turned you off,” you complete for her.

She nods. “It really did.”

“Why do you think it did?” you ask, even though you know it has to be because of her ex.

She sighs deeply. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know. I had a loving family growing up, so I can’t blame it on that. I had friends too, good friends, but then when my ex cheated…”

“It broke the part of you that could trust easily,” you say. “And it’s understandable, and totally valid.”

“I guess so…” she trails off. “I just feel like letting someone in is too much of a vulnerability.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “You like being in control, and you feel like being in a relationship would make you lose control.”

She glances at you, eyes slightly narrowed. “Sometimes I swear to God you sound like a therapist.”

You laugh - it’s not the first time you’ve been told that. Yoongi said so last semester too, when you’d helped him get over Hoseok.

“Don’t ask me for advice though,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “I don’t think I’d have any good advice.”

“Not to be mean, but after what you put yourself through last semester, I don’t think your advice would be really helpful,” she teases.

You widen your gaze. “That was mean.”

She pouts, offering you puppy eyes. You push her on the shoulder, and she rolls on her back, laughing. “No, but seriously,” she says. “I don’t blame you. You fell in love, and that’s not your fault, is it?”

You remain silent, not wanting the conversation to turn to Jungkook. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes after a few seconds of silence. “You’re right, that was mean.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” you reassure her. “I saw all the red flags and chose to ignore them.”

Ria turns on her side again, facing you. “That’s love for you. Everyone ignores all the red flags the moment they start having feelings for someone else.”

Like Seokjin, but you don’t say it. You highly doubt she needs to hear it.

“Cheers to that,” you say, though you are void of any beverage at the moment.

You’ve left your water bottle on the floor, too far to reach from where you’re lying in bed.

“You know what we should do?” Ria says a while later, when the episode is coming to an end. “We should go to the party on Friday. The one Dave’s frat is hosting.”

The name Dave rings an extremely distant bell - you think you went to a party hosted by his frat last semester, but you’re not quite sure.

“I thought we were already planning to go.”

Ria looks at you, mischief slowly filling her gaze. “We should go and find some cute guys to forget about all of our problems with.”

You laugh. “Men aren’t the solution to everything, you know that, right?” you tease.

“Oof. They’re the root of the problem most of the time, I know.” She pauses, purses her lips. “But we’re due to have fun. You know Nabi and Namjoon will come for an hour or two and disappear anyway.”

“What about Yoongi?”

“We’ll find him someone too! He deserves it.” She nods, clearly convinced that her plan is the best she’s ever come up with.

And Yoongi does, you think that out of the three of you, he’s the one that deserves a healthy relationship the most. 

So you nod your head, saying, “It’s going to be lit.”

You can only hope that it is and that you don’t end up crying because of a certain doe-eyed man you should have let go of months ago.

Friday, September 6th  

[11:17 am] bröther👽: just letting you know that Gaby is in town so Ari will be staying with her [11:17 am] bröther👽: come home

The texts Taehyung sent to you in the morning sit unanswered on your phone. Mostly because you didn’t know what to say - he still firmly believes you’ve decided to move out because of Ariane, and you think it might have killed a possible friendship with her in the bud.

If only they knew why you truly left. It likely wouldn’t be any better - Jungkook would be dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’d be grounded by your older brother like you were when you were in high school.

You know Taehyung is likely only going to grow suspicious if you ignore him, but you really just don’t know what to say. He’s likely going to be at the party tonight - you’ll make an effort to speak to him, to reassure him, and then you’ll disappear with your friends.

That is, if Jeon Jungkook isn’t with him. Because if Jungkook’s there, you’ll avoid Taehyung like the plague, no matter if that might make him even more suspicious.

“I literally cannot physically wait,” Ria says next to you, and you shoot her a quick look as she puts mascara on.

She’s going all out tonight, and you wonder if it’s because Yoongi mentioned Kim Seokjin will be in attendance. Obviously, you don’t want to attract her ire, so you don’t say it, but you reckon Seokjin has been a ghost in every conversation since last Monday.

Much like Jungkook has been, but you’ve been good at pretending he hasn’t.

“I really hope they’ve stocked up on free alcohol,” you say, knowing you’ll need it, mostly because if Taehyung is in attendance, then Ariane will likely be, and so will Gabrielle. 

Your heart sinks in your chest at the thought - you haven’t told Ria, not wanting to ruin her enthusiasm. 

“Do you want to curl your hair?” Ria says as she finishes with the mascara. 

You shrug. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it natural,” you answer. “But you should curl yours.”

She narrows her gaze, staring at herself in the mirror. “You know what, yeah, I should.”

You chuckle, and then you both busy yourself getting ready. You apply more makeup than you usually do, only because you know it’ll be a mask you’ll use all evening.

Does Gabrielle even know about your existence?

You finish getting ready, stealing from Ria’s closet to get dressed. You settle on a pair of black leather pants, along with a black crop top t-shirt that hugs tight to your frame, revealing just an inch of the bird tattoo you got done on your right ribs in May.

You stare at the ink, thinking about Taehyung’s reaction. He’ll likely be pissed at you, but you’re done caring. If he wants to be mad, then so be it.

“Your ass looks amazing in this,” Ria compliments from behind you, and you snort as you turn to look at her.

She’s wearing a sage green corset that leaves little to the imagination. You compliment her in return, and she winks at you, before suggesting to down a couple of shots before leaving. You immediately agree, and you’ve got a light buzz by the time you leave the dorms, heading to the frat house.

It’s already crowded by the time you get there, the loud music having attracted all the party-goers on campus. The front lawn is cramped, and Ria grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd to head to the house proper.

You make it to the hall, and luckily enough, there aren't as many people here. You’re able to navigate to the living room, where Dave - he really is the guy from last semester - finds you, offering drinks to the two of you.

You grab a beer, not trusting the questionable punch that Dave claims was prepared earlier today. Ria follows your lead, and you clink bottles with Dave, who admits he has no clue what’s in the punch when you’ve all taken your first sips.

“Bruh, why were you trying to sell it to us then?” Ria asks, eyebrows raised.

Dave laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Colton said it was good.” 

Colton… you wonder if it’s the same Colton that had warned you about Jungkook once.

“And we’re supposed to trust Colton?” Ria teases.

Dave winces. “Not really, no, he’s already drunk.”

Ria nods as you take a sip of your beer, the bitter liquid heady on your tongue. You turn your head to the side, noticing a very distraught Yoongi walking into the living room, followed close by an even more distraught Seokjin. You wave them over, and Ria and Dave both turn their heads towards the new arrivals.

You notice Ria tensing from the corner of your eye, and Seokjin looks just as uncomfortable as he stops next to you. You hug Yoongi hello, and he doesn’t let you go right away, whispering in your ear, “This place is a shitshow, I don’t think we’ll stay.”

You pout as you pull away. “We said beer pong,” you remind him.

He rolls his eyes, though you know he’s always liked playing beer pong. So you manage to convince him to go for at least one game, though you know you’ll have to wait in line for a while before it’s your actual time to play. It makes for an awkward waiting - Ria and Seokjin are both ignoring each other, and Yoongi and you are standing in the middle, trying to engage in conversation.

You’re finally on the side of the table when you recognize your brother’s laugh, a sound you were sort of hoping not to hear in this crowd. You look to your left - he’s by the garden doors that lead to the backyard, Ariane cuddled up against him, and you think the girl standing with her back to you has to be Gabrielle.

“Shit,” you let out.

Yoongi furrows his brow at the sudden curse. “What’s wrong?” You motion towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Is that who I think it is?”

He knows about Gabrielle. He’s stalked her with you, during one of your many downward spirals, and Gabrielle has that kind of aura that is all too recognizable, even if you’ve only seen her once in a picture.

“I think so,” you reply, and Ria finally leans in to join the conversation.

“Is that Gaby?” she asks, loud enough for the people around you to hear.

You tap her arm, giving her a warning glance, though you’re pretty sure no one’s actually listening. Even Seokjin didn’t glance towards you at the outburst.

But Taehyung notices you, and you quickly turn away, pretending to be focused on the game unfolding on the table in front of you. There’s one cup on the left, three on the other side, and the girls playing are clearly more talented than you: they both shoot it in the lone glass when their turn comes, hugging as they shriek in happiness from their victory.

“Let’s go,” Ria says, and she pulls you to one end of the table as soon as the girls have moved. 

Yoongi and Seokjin take the other side, even though Seokjin truly does appear like he wishes he wasn’t here, and you put the cups back into their spot, reorganizing the table.

Your brother appears next to you before you start, and you offer him a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. 

“Me?” you let out, your voice uncharacteristically high. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says through gritted teeth, the typical Kim temper flaring up.

You grab the neon orange ball Ria hands you, shrugging your shoulders. “I haven’t. Just been busy.”

He clenches his jaw, yet remains silent as you focus on the table, preparing for the first shot, the one that determines who between you and Ria or Yoongi and Seokjin will play first.

You’re against Yoongi, so you know you’ve already lost when you shoot. To your surprise, Yoongi misses, his ball bouncing off on the side of a cup. Yours flies way off the table, and you wince.

“That was trash,” Taehyung comments.

“Thanks,” you fire back.

Ria and Seokjin throw, and Ria surprisingly manages to get the shot. You clap your hands as she offers you a thumbs-up.

“Seriously though,” Taehyung asks, handing you the ball that Seokjin threw. “What’s wrong? Why did you move out?”

“Hold on,” you say. 

You take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety of his questioning away, and you throw. The ball stays on the table this time, bouncing right next to one of the cups.

“Honestly it’s just so that I can spend time with Ria,” you answer, motioning to your friend. “She’s going through shit.”

Ria tenses next to you, offering you a quick glare before she focuses on shooting, unfortunately missing the cups.

“Oh,” Taehyung lets out. “I thought it was because of Ari.”

Speaking of Ari, you don’t see her anywhere near. You wonder where she went off to - are you lucky enough that she and Gabrielle left the party?

“Not at all,” you reply, and then you focus on the game as Seokjin and Yoongi prepare to throw. They both make it into a cup, and you clink your almost empty beer with Ria’s, taking a long sip before you move the cups to the side. “Ari’s super sweet.”

“She’ll be relieved when I tell her so,” Taehyung admits. “She was saying she could leave if it was an issue with you that she moves in with us.”

“It really isn’t,” you reassure Taehyung, feeling momentarily guilty for making Ariane feel like that. “I’ll probably come back eventually too.”

Taehyung’s eyes light up. “That’d be sick. We need to start doing Taco Tuesdays again.”

Taco Tuesdays. You’d forgotten all about them last semester - you’d spent every Tuesday last fall eating tacos with Taehyung, Jungkook joining once in a while. It was a tradition you’d had growing up with your mother too - when she wasn’t too busy working.

“I’m down,” you reply, and you get ready to throw.

To your surprise, you make the shot, landing it in the first cup at the front. Ria throws hers, and it bounces on the rim of one of the glasses before Seokjin catches it expertly. 

“Is Jungkook coming tonight?” you ask.

Everything stills inside of you. You don’t even know why you asked - you didn’t even think about it before the question fell. But then again, you think it makes sense that Jungkook would invade your thoughts now. 

When does he not?

Ria throws you a curious look at the question, though you don’t miss the disapproval in the furrow of her brows. 

“JK?” Taehyung says, as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so. He says he wants to focus on college this semester.”

You nod curtly, getting ready to defend your cups as Seokjin and Yoongi throw. To your luck, they both miss, and you let Ria shoot first as you focus on Taehyung again.

“Makes sense now that he has to work for his father’s company, no?” you say, trying to sound as if you don’t care.

As if Jungkook is not the center of your universe, still to this day.

“I guess so,” Taehyung comments, and you throw, entirely missing the table again.

Ria lands hers in a cup though, which leaves four cups in front of the boys and three in front of you and Ria.

“I still can’t believe the motherfucker is rich and he never told us,” Taehyung adds.

You get the feeling. You still think New York was a fever dream - even more so now that you’ve lost Jungkook. The thought makes your heart ache in your chest, and it trickles down your body, burning all along the way.

“It’s crazy,” you let out, and it sounds just as flat as you feel - like maybe your heart just flatlined in your chest.

Taehyung makes a non-committal sound, and you’re able to focus on the rest of the game without any interruption. You evidently end up losing to Seokjin and Yoongi, and you shake hands with the boys, congratulating them for their win, even though you’d all expected it. 

“I’ll go get something to drink,” Taehyung says when you finally glance his way again. “Stay away from the punch.”

And then he leaves, and you mimic him as he walks away, raising your middle finger to his back. Ria snorts next to you, and you laugh along with her.

“He’s making me want to have some of the punch,” she says, and you laugh harder.

“Hard pass,” Seokjin says, and Ria stiffens next to you. “I tasted it, and it tastes like piss.”

“Wouldn’t even be surprised if someone pissed in it,” Yoongi says. “This party is…”

“Juvenile?” you provide.

Ria laughs, though it sounds a little forced. “It’s fun, stop.”

She sounds just as unconvinced as you think she seems, yet you all don’t mention it, which you reckon happens a lot around her lately. 

“I think we’ll head out,” Yoongi says after a few seconds. “Want to have a beer back at my place?”

“And disturb the lovebirds?” Ria answers. “No thank you.”

Indeed, Namjoon and Nabi chose to stay in tonight, and you don’t have to use a lot of brain power to imagine what they might be doing right now, when they finally have full privacy in the apartment.

“Right,” Yoongi lets out. He winces, then shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we’re stuck here for a couple of hours, then.”

He says that in Seokjin’s direction, who runs a hand on his forehead before nodding. “Can we at least go outside?”

“Sure. You girls coming?” Yoongi asks, motioning to the backyard.

Ria doesn’t even wait for you to reply, instead tugging you towards the garden doors. You stop her, glancing over your shoulder. “I actually really have to pee, but I’ll join you guys outside?”

She narrows her gaze in suspicion, and you furrow your brows. She leans in, whispering, “Are you trying to leave me alone with Seokjin?”

You snort. “Not at all,” you reply, patting her hand on your arm. “I genuinely am just about to pee myself. You know how I am with beer.”

She fake-gags, and you playfully push her as she bursts out laughing. “Ayt, we’ll be outside.” 

You wave them goodbye, and Seokjin awkwardly waves back before following Yoongi and Ria. You chuckle at the sight before heading to the bathroom, which you think is probably on the second floor.

So you make it towards the staircase you see in the corner, squeezing through the crowd and apologizing all the way, though most people are too drunk to even notice you. You successfully make it to the staircase, and you walk around the group of girls sitting on the steps, making it to the second floor unscathed. 

“Bathroom?” a guy who clearly looks like he belongs to the frat asks you.

You almost startle at the unexpected question, though you recover quickly, nodding your head. 

“Last door on the left,” he tells you. “I think someone’s in there right now though.”

“Should I not wait then?” you ask.

He chuckles. “From what I saw when I exited it was just one girl alone so, you should be good.”

“Thanks,” you answer, offering him a small smile, and he nods once before heading down the stairs, though he quickly realizes that it might be too big of a feat. He indeed just plops down on the stairs, striking up a conversation with the girls there.

They look like they know him, so you walk away, heading to the last door on the left. You lean against the wall outside, pulling your phone out of your pocket. 

No notifications greet you, so you push it back into your pocket, right as the door unlocks, and then opens.

You freeze, just as much as she does. Both of your gazes widening, until she lets out a small, “Hello”, the word heavy with a French accent.

Of course, the girl in the bathroom had to be Gabrielle.

“Hi,” you reply, and you try to smile, though you’re not sure it works.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister, aren’t you?” she asks.

You nod curtly. “The one and only.”

She smiles. “Thought so.” There’s a pause as she doesn’t move from the doorway, and you just wait, awkwardness filling every inch of you. 

Her next sentence throws you off the axis you’ve been spinning on for months now, and you just stare at her in disbelief. 

“You’re not with Jungkook tonight?” she asks.

You feel hot and cold at the same time, your heart rate picking up uncomfortably in your chest. Your palms turn clammy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if sweat appeared on your temples.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She frowns. “I thought Ari said…” she trails off, and then she shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever.” She smiles gently. “I’m happy he’s got you now.”

You think your eyes are bulging out of your head. They have to - the conversation isn’t making any sense, and you aren’t drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.

“What?”

Her frown reappears. “Aren’t you two dating now?”

You laugh. It’s a sad, pathetic laugh, and Gabrielle looks at you like you’re crazy.

“He cheated on me with you,” you say. “Why would I be dating him?”

The frown falls, replaced by utter surprise. Her mouth opens on a silent ‘Oh’, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. It takes her a few seconds to collect herself, and then she says, “Non mais putain qu’il est con.”

You don’t speak French, so all you can do is cock an eyebrow quizzically. And then she lets out a small disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I told him to tell you,” she says, and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose. “But he’s really stupid sometimes.”

“I’m sorry?”

She offers you a small smile bordering on pity, and you brace yourself for what she’ll say next.

“Fille, I’m gay,” she says. “Jungkook was always only pretending to be my boyfriend so my family wouldn’t know. I didn’t know about you when I kissed him in Paris, and I only kissed him because Ari was growing suspicious.” 

You think you’re frozen in place. Like, stared into Medusa’s eyes and turned to stone frozen in place. All you can do is stare at Gabrielle, unblinkingly, as her words spin round and round in your head, caught in a dizzying tornado you can’t follow.

“I told him to tell you,” she repeats, and she sounds far too apologetic for the erratic beating of your heart. For the realization that she just hit you with.

You think she hit harder than a physical slap would have.

“What?” you say, voice small and weak and oh so broken.

Months. You’ve been breaking for him for months… and for what? For a promise he refused to break, one that would have explained everything in a way that would have made you work.

You would have forgiven him, no hesitation. Hell, you reckon you would have told him you loved him, would have told him you wanted to be with him from now on until you turn to dust.

But he had to choose to respect a promise he made years ago, to an ex that wasn’t really an ex after all, was she?

Just a friend from high school.

She was, after all, just a friend from high school.

She nods. “Yeah. He told me all about you.” She smiles again, though this time it’s just sad, like she knows just how shattered you are over this man. “I was rooting for you two.”

“He didn’t tell me,” you whisper as if Gabrielle hadn’t already pieced that together. “Why?”

She sighs. “He’s stupid,” she says as an explanation. “He’s the kind that’ll sacrifice himself if it means helping someone else. I suppose you know that already.”

You nod, because you do.

He sacrificed himself for you last semester when you got home crying on Valentine’s Day. And he sacrificed countless parties over his promise to Taehyung to look after you.

And he sacrificed you to protect Gabrielle’s secret.

“Holy shit,” you let out.

“Talk to him,” she says softly. “Go talk to him now. I’m not letting him lose you over me.” She scoffs, the frown she’d sported earlier returning. “I should have realized before. That he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze widens, and you shake your head no. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not your fault if he broke my heart.

It’s always just been his fault, hasn’t it?

But then again… you know now. You know that he never cheated on you, that he was right when he was saying that it wasn’t what you thought it was. 

You know that he was there, with you. That he felt for you what you felt for him, that he was chasing cars around your head, too.

And if there’s a chance you can salvage that, repair two hearts in one stone, you know you have to do it.

“I have to talk to him.” You say the words with quiet conviction, and Gabrielle nods, offering you an encouraging smile. “Fuck.”

“Go to him, fille,” Gabrielle says. “And tell him he’s an enfoiré for me.”

You highly doubt you’d be able to repeat that word, yet you still say, “Will do.”

And then you take off, entirely forgetting that you had to pee. You have one goal in mind, and it’s to run home, where you know he has to be according to what Taehyung said. You don’t even stop to text him, to confirm that he really is.

No, you run down the stairs, through the crowd and outside. The front lawn isn’t as crowded as earlier, and you easily make it to the sidewalk, skidding to a halt just long enough to change direction. 

And then you’re running home. Running home to him, your heart beating wildly. For the right reason this time. And as you run, lungs struggling to get enough oxygen in, thighs burning with heat, you feel infinite. You feel like you’re a star in the sky above, or maybe the moon returning to her lover. You feel like a bird soaring high, like a dolphin riding the waves.

You feel young and old and small and big, all at once. Like nothing is ever going to stop you again. You feel in love, you are in love, and after all the months of suffering, you reckon it’s the most beautiful feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You didn’t know you could sprint like you are right now, yet even though your body is straining, you’re not slowing down. You’ve pulled your phone out of your pocket to make sure it doesn’t fall as you run, yet you don’t slow down.

You can’t slow down anymore, not when your gravity finally aligned with his again.

Like it was always meant to be. Because it’s always been meant to be you and him, hasn’t it?

You make it home in a record time, climbing up the stairs… only to realize you don’t have your keys. They are back at the dorms, but it’s too late.

You try the door, and to your surprise, the doorknob turns, and you barge into your home, barge into this life with him.

You catch your breath as you stop in the hall, doubling over when you realize you’ve actually ran - sprinted - for nearly a mile. You’re lucky the frat house wasn’t further away - you highly doubt you would have made it home if it was any further.

“Y/n?” Jungkook says from his bedroom.

You straighten, trying to catch your breath. And the second your eyes land on him, you know it was all worth it.

Every single second of suffering was worth it to be here with him tonight.

“Jungkook,” you say in between two heaving breaths.

He’s shirtless, his honey skin just as warm as you remember it to be. He’s in fact only wearing grey joggers, and his hands are lost in his pockets like he’s trying to look nonchalant.

The concern on his features tells you he, as a matter of fact, isn’t as nonchalant as he’s trying to appear.

“Shit,” you let out. “Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You laugh. You know you might look crazy, but you literally just ran a mile for this man, and each foot was worth it. 

The grandest journey of your life, wasn’t it?

“She told me,” you say.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gabrielle told me everything.” You surprise yourself by blinking away tears, and you let out a small laugh as you go to dry them.

Jungkook remains silent, just staring at you with horror slowly inching into his gaze. You don’t know how, or why, but it only occurs to you then that he might not be alone right now. 

“Kook?” you whisper, unable to say it louder.

Not when you’re slowly crashing down from the high.

“Y/n, I…” he trails off. He closes his eyes, head hanging low. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

You gulp as you swallow. “Yeah, huh.”

You look down, noticing a pair of sneakers you’ve never seen before.

It takes all of the courage you can muster up to look back up when the door of the bathroom opens, revealing a dishevelled Lisa, in only a t-shirt you recognize all too well.

You’d used to sleep in that t-shirt, too.

Lisa sees you after you see her, turning beet red. She’s naked under Jungkook’s shirt, or at least you think she is.

You assume she is considering that he’s shirtless too.

“Oh,” you let out.

Choke out might be a more appropriate word. Because you’re crashing, and you’re crashing hard. Hitting the wall at 120 mph, splattering on it until there’s nothing left of you. Nothing left of that hope you’d found at the party, the hope Gabrielle had so kindly gifted you even though she owed you nothing.

Someone’s screaming. You think someone’s screaming - is it just in your head?

“Hey, Y/n,” Lisa says awkwardly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“I live here,” you reply, voice empty of any emotion.

She purses her lips, nodding once, and then she hesitantly walks out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Neither did you. Neither did Jungkook - it would have saved everyone a whole lot of breaking if you’d known. 

If you’d known that having hope for Jeon Jungkook was futile and useless. 

How could you even think you were meant to be with him? There is no universe for you and him out there. Just different worlds of breaking. Because it’s all your soul knows how to do - all your soul knows is to break for him, to shatter and crash and fracture for the man standing in front of his opened bedroom door.

“No worries,” you say, though this time your voice does wobble.

This time, the pain does colour your tone in heartbreak blue.

Jungkook just remains silent, like he’s suddenly gone mute. You think it’s better like this - if he were to say anything right now, you think you’d likely break down here. Instead, you take a deep breath, pat your pockets and say, “I think I forgot my keys at the party.”

Unable to help yourself, you glance towards Jungkook once. He meets your gaze - he looks infinitely pained, the heartbreak stark on his features too. There’s some reassurance in knowing that he’s breaking, too. That you’re doing it together. 

Heartbreak isn’t as lonely when you’re doing it together. 

“How did you…” Lisa trails off, but she doesn’t finish.

She falls silent, clearly hearing the screaming in your head too.

You’re outside a second later, carefully closing the door behind you. Carefully severing the rest of your relationship with Jungkook, until all that is left is the memories.

You take a step back, looking at the door, thinking he might open, might come see you.

Thinking he might be your home after all.

But he doesn’t, the door staying stubbornly closed. You get the message - your souls were never meant to merge. The songs that you thought were about him, about you, about the two of you together, they were never about you. You were never meant to lie down and forget the world with him. 

Or maybe you were, but it came with an expiration date.

You reckon you and Jungkook have always had an expiration date. You just forgot tonight, became blind to it thanks to false, treacherous hope. And so you leave, walking down the stairs as you blink away the tears that are clinging to your waterline.

You embrace the heartbreak, let it sweep through you until you think it’s all you’ve ever known. And like a true companion, the heartbreak carries your steps through the night.

Prev | Chapter 13.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

do I feel bad for the amount of angst I wrote into this story? Maybe a little. I promise one day things will get better for these two, but in the meantime, what did you guys think?

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[carlsdarling]

okay, now i need a fic about carl's gigantic balls😔😔😔

Jingle balls, jingle balls

Y/N wonders if Carl really has gigantic balls... Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving)

As so often, you watched Carl as he helped Olivia to carry groceries into the warehouse. To do this, he repeatedly climbed into the back of the pick-up truck parked outside the warehouse and the fabric of his jeans stretched over his crotch, leaving a visible bulge. You giggled furtively, because ever since a certain day, you'd been a little obsessed with Carl and what was going on under his belt.

That was when Negan had first come to Alexandria with his men to demand supplies, and when two of his men had gone to get medicine from Rick's house, Carl had angrily stood in their way and threatened them with his gun. You had heard the gunshot from the house and seen Rick, Negan and Gabriel rush to Rick's house, so you had followed them, curious and worried at the same time.

Inside the house was Carl, his one eye glinting with rage, his cheeks flushed delightfully as he pointed the gun at Negan's men and forbade them to take the drugs. The muscles on his arm and neck were tense, and he ignored Negan, who approached with amusement and began to admonish Carl. But Carl was not intimidated by Negan, so the latter finally got a little annoyed and said: "So, dude, at what point were we? Oh yes! At your gigantic balls down there!"

The blush had rushed to your face and you had struggled to suppress a giggle despite the dangerous situation, so Gabriel had looked at you in bewilderment and confusion. You had thought Carl was cute ever since he had come to Alexandria, but since that day, you kept trying to imagine him naked and wondered if Negan was right with his comment.

However, you and Carl didn't get close at first because he spent a lot of time with Enid, and eventually he and Enid became a couple, which made you jealous. But around the time of Carl's 19th birthday, things started to fall apart and a few months later they had a big fight and broke up, leaving Carl single again. Faced with this fact, you were all excited, but at first you just couldn't find a way to get closer to Carl.

Until the day you happened to be assigned to guard duty together. It was a few days before Christmas and Alexandria was already festively decorated; it was snowing lightly as you and Carl climbed the stairs to the wall.

You kept glancing stealthily at Carl from the side. He was wearing a parka against the cold, so you couldn't catch a glimpse of his crotch, but you were firmly convinced that Carl was well equipped, and Negan's words kept coming back to your mind.

It didn't take long for Carl to notice your strange behavior. "What's wrong?" he asked with a hint of irritation. "Why do you always stare at me like that?"

You immediately blushed. "What? Like what?" you tried to deny it.

Carl looked at you with raised eyebrows, snowflakes settling on his bandage. "I don't know. But you're always gaping at me like you're trying to figure something out." Your face grew even hotter, and Carl grinned knowingly. "You have the hots for me, haven't you?"

"No," you immediately denied it.

"No? Too bad," Carl said casually. "I mean, I'm single again, and we could have some fun." He pointed to a vacant house near the wall. "There don't seem to be any walkers out today anyway. No one will notice if we disappear for a while." He winked indecently at you. "But it's not like you're interested." He shrugged his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. "Umm, I wouldn't put it like that. It's just..."

"What?" Carl eyed you with amusement.

"Well, Negan made a remark about your balls back then." You giggled, embarrassed. "I've always wondered since then if it was true. Well, that they're gigantic."

Carl laughed out loud. "Okay, so they're not small," he let you know in a teasing tone. "Neither is the rest. But don't you want to find out for yourself?" He stepped closer so that his breath brushed hotly across your cheek.

The arousal swept over you like an electric shock. You could smell Carl's scent very clearly, his long hair tickled your face and his pheromones mesmerized you. You and Carl had never been this close before. His lips almost touched yours. "Yes," you breathed, your heart pounding wildly.

"Come on then," Carl said, taking your hand after looking around and realizing that no one was watching you. He pulled you down the stairs and over to the abandoned house. New residents were due to move in these days, so the heating was turned up and it was comfortably warm.

Apparently Carl had been pretty needy since breaking up with Enid, because he pulled you into a hug as soon as he closed the front door behind you both and kissed you fiercely, his hands sliding under your clothes and immediately fumbling with the clasp of your bra. "Bedroom," he murmured as he pushed you towards the stairs. On the way up, you were already stripping off some of your clothes. You admired Carl's naked torso, the finely chiseled muscles, the fair skin, and the soft line of dark hair that led down from his navel.

You fiddled eagerly with Carl's belt. "I want to see you," you said breathlessly, licking at his neck.

Carl groaned, shoved your hand aside and undid his belt and the buttons of his jeans himself before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling down his jeans and boxers. His cock was standing straight up, the tip touching his stomach and leaving a wet trail. You grabbed Carl by the shoulders and made him lie on his back, then you took his cock in your hand and began to gently rub up and down and apply pressure. Carl whimpered and squirmed on the bed, his eye closed. You let go of his dick and turned your attention to his balls - indeed, they weren't gigantic, but they were big, one almost filling your entire hand. "Are they always this... full?" you teased him, caressing his balls, swirling your tongue around his red, precum-oozing tip.

Carl whimpered and grinned sheepishly. "Maybe not quite so full," he whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement. "It's just, uum, I've got a bit of blue balls, if you know what I mean, oh please, don't stop." He groaned lustfully and bucked his hips up as you playfully licked his balls.

You leaned over Carl to kiss him and he yanked impatiently at your panties, slipping them over your thighs and shoving his long fingers between your legs. "You're already so wet, baby," he gasped, gripping your hips. Very slowly, he pushed his dick in.

You trembled with pleasure, and he chuckled, while his cock sliding inside you, making naughty slippery noises. You clenched your muscles around him, and he started moaning loudly, arching his back. You leaned forward and touched his big balls at the same time, gently massaging them, and this almost drove Carl over the edge, he was so close to cumming, but he successfully held himself back.

The way his dick was stretching you out was amazing, and you whined loudly, which made Carl grin. "It's not just my balls that are big," he joked.

"Oh my god, Carl," you moaned and the movements of your hips became faster and more erratic as you felt the orgasm approaching. When you cum around his cock, Carl feverishly bucked his hips, he let out a little scream and his cum filled you up to he rim. You had to grip onto his shoulders for support. "Going wild, huh?" you panted. Carl lied back, exhausted, he tried to catch his breath.

You collapsed on top of him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, before you dismounted him to snuggle up to him.

Carl looked at you, his cheeks still flushed, his heart beating hard. "That was... beyond words," he whispered and kissed you. You touched his balls again, and Carl inhaled sharply.

"They're not so full anymore," you said, giggling.

Carl smiled a little bashfully. "You took care of them, didn't you? But you have to admit, they're really big," he hinted with a pout.

There was no denying it. "They are," you giggled. "So is your dick."

Carl suddenly pressed you into the mattress and lay on top of you, gently spreading your legs. You could clearly feel that he was ready for you again. "Since you liked it, can we do it again?" he suggested. "Again and again," you mumbled as Carl penetrated you a second time.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee @tessasweet

(Originally the fic was planned for X-mas time, but then my dad passed away, so it got delayed)

[werecreature-addicted]

Nature's medicine

this is my first time writing something long-form like this so if you don't like it take me out back and shoot me like ol Yeller.

werewolf!OC x gn! reader

warnings: smut, Aphrodisiacs, mentions of being sick, and poisonings, reader is gender neutral, and their parts aren't mentioned but they bottom.

word count: 4,300

summary: you've made it through the winter, the hardest part of the year for you and now the gentile, bountiful spring is here. You're an apothecary who collects plants in the wild to make medicines and tea to help soothe. Gabriel is a werewolf and a guard for a nobleman passing through the town you live. Gabriel knows two things the instant he sets his eyes on you first, he wants you, second, you spend your time in the woods gathering poison.

Spring was one of your favorite times of the year, it was always stressful to try and make it through winter when you already had so little to get by on, but with spring came opportunities. You could plant in your garden again, you could forage in the woods for edible plants and most of all it was bearable to be outside with the snow melted and the warm sun high in the sky.  You made a decent living, selling herbs and medicinal plants but that meant that you needed to save every year for the winter when the plants you sold were fewer and farther between. It was nice to have a bit more breathing room with your budget now. 

You were combing through the forest behind your house making a mental note of patches of wild greenery that looked promising when you found something truly delightful. A patch of long-stemmed helmet-shaped purple flowers. You knelt down next to the blooms and examed them closely. Wolfsbane. it was incredible to find some blooming this early in the year it usually didn’t show up until mid to late summer. You smiled and started collecting the deadly little plants. As far as most people knew, you sold medicine and spices only harmless plants. However if customers came looking for something a little more potent and had the right price, you’d been known to carry poisonous plants as well, and really there were so many more deadly plants than ones that were harmless.  

You covered the Wolfsbane with a cloth and piled chamomile flowers and sage on top and made your way down to the river that ran through the forest and started looking at the thick weeds that grew on the river bed. Nothing interesting. you didn’t think you’d see anyone in the forest but it never hurt to be careful.  You lived apart from the rest of your small town right on the edge of the woods away from the main clearing where most towns folk lived and worked. You didn’t mind the solitude, if anything you preferred it, you didn’t know if you could put up with noisy or rude neighbors. That being said, you were used to being completely alone when you were in your home or the woods that surrounded it. So when you heard the sound of men calling out to one another you froze.  You looked worriedly in the direction the voices were coming from and wondered if you should run.

Suddenly you were panicking, what if they found you collecting poisons? Oh god, what if they’d found out you were selling poisons and they were coming to arrest you? You were overcome with fear but surely if you ran you’d look all the more guilty. You saw the leaves shake on the far end of the river the choice was made for you, there would be no time to run, and you’d simply have to hold your ground. 

Two men pushed through the foliage and stopped short seeing you. One was dressed in leather armor and had a sword at his side, he was clearly a guard of some kind, big and well-muscled. The other man was slender and dressed in expensive-looking clothes, he must be the one being guarded. 

“Hello!” the nobleman called and quickly made his way over to you, you held your basket tightly but did not run. 

“Hello, do you live nearby?” He asked, enthusiastically, his guard remaining stoic.

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?” you asked cautiously. 

“My carriage broke down on the main road I was looking for help or a nearby town but My compatriot and I seemed to be lost,” he laughed. Very lost you’d say, the main road was quiet away from here. You relaxed a little. Of course, they weren’t here to arrest you, just a rich man and his guard lost on their journey. 

“I can lead you back to the main road from here,” you offered and turned to lead them but the guard spoke stopping you. 

“Wait,” he commanded and you froze looking back at him he was giving you a strange look you couldn’t place. “What's your name?” he asked. Before you could answer the first man interrupted. 

“Oh, how rude! We didn’t even introduce ourselves, I’m Count Ivan Richman and this is my knight Gabriel it's an honor to make your acquaintance my lady,” he said tripping over some roots to kiss your hand.  You introduced yourself curiously, Gabriel didn’t have any other questions for you, so you lead them back the way you’d come. It became clear to you extremely quickly that Gabriel was extremely competent, he moved easily over the uneven terrain of the forest floor without much effort and fell in step beside you. Ivan on the other hand could hardly put one foot in front of the other without tripping over himself. It took a lot longer than you were anticipating to just get back to your modest cottage. 

“Follow this trail until you hit the main town someone there should be able to help you with your carriage,” you said giving the Count a slight curtsy. 

“You've been such a help, I’ll have to find a way to repay you,” he said beaming at you.

“You really don’t have to,” you protested, 

“No, we will find a way to repay you,” Gabriel said, which surprised you, he’d been mostly silent the entire time you’d been walking. He pulled a flower out of seemingly nowhere and laid it on top of your basket before turning away from you and walking down the path you’d indicated. You watched them as they left before looking down at the flower he’d given you, a bright yellow Dafodil, a flower signifying spring. 

–

You loved spring, but it was also such a busy season for you, it felt like every second of the day there was something you ought to be doing. Drying flowers and leaves for tea, planting spinach or strawberries, mixing medicines, or digging up roots in the woods. You worked late into the night and when you finally did go to sleep, it was hard to get yourself back up in the morning to do it all over again. 

The sun streaming in brightly through your windows warmed your bedsheets, you’d already slept in too much if the sun was this high in the sky, but that just seemed all the more reason to stay in bed. Who knows how long you would have stayed in bed like that, wasting the day away, but there was a sudden knock at the door, and in a flash, you were out of bed and dressed, you don’t think that you’d ever moved that quickly in your life, but you were at the door in a respectable amount of time and opened it warmly to greet your visitor. 

It was Gabriel, you were a little surprised to see him, you’d thought he and Ivan had forgotten all about you. Looking at him now you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit intimidated again. He towered over you and his broad frame took up almost all of the door frame, he didn’t have a sword with him but he was still in armor, you imagined that if he wanted to he could do some damage with just his hands. Despite all this, he was handsome he had dark hair that curled at the ends, and he kept having to brush it out of his face, you wondered if he had a wife or a betrothed, but you found yourself pushing the thought out of your head.

“Good morning!” you greeted cheerfully, you tried for a smile but Gabriel didn’t return it, and you stopped. “How can I help you?” you asked, Gabriel looked around whirly and leaned in 

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” he asked in a hush. You nodded and pulled him into your storefront. 

“Is this better?” you asked, calmly you’d seen the apprehensive look in his eyes a hundred times in other people looking for poisons. You wondered if he was planning on killing Ivan, but you knew you couldn’t ask. 

“The other day, you were gathering Wolfsbane,” he said slowly, suddenly you were less calm. You shifted uneasily from foot to foot, 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. You were sure that you’d covered the flowers before the two men had stumbled upon you. It would be one thing if he’d heard whispers of an apothecary who also sold poisons, but the fact he knew what poisons you had, left you rattled.  

“I could smell it in your basket,” he said. 

That shouldn’t have been possible, you’d been collecting tea flowers and herbs, even if he did catch a whiff of what you were collecting there he was no way he could have smelled the wolfsbane, how could he identify it?

“You must be confused, I had camomile in my basket that day, I’d have no reason to collect a plant like a wolfsbane,” you doubled down. He took a step toward you and you jumped back, Gabriel froze and held his hands up placatingly to show he meant you no harm. 

“Maybe a human would be confused, but I’m a werewolf, my senses are better than yours. I can smell that you’ve kept it,  I don’t care that you’re making poisons in fact I’d like to buy one from you,” he explained. You felt your heart stop in your chest. A werewolf. Gabriel wasn’t nearly as violent as the stories had led you to believe. 

“Oh,” was all you could manage for a beat. You shook your head  “You said you wanted wolfsbane poison?” you turned your back to him and walked swiftly behind the counter, you knelt to the ground and lifted a floorboard, and selected a small vile from the hidden stash. You rose and showed him the vile

“Do you have anything smaller? I just need enough to make a person sick,” he said examining the bottle you offered him. You curled your hand around the bottle and pulled it back slightly. 

“You could have just asked for something to make you sick instead of going all out for poison,” you said, already thinking of what mix of plants you’d use, you supposed it would depend on what kind of sick he was looking for. 

“No,” he said shaking his head “werewolves are more resilient than humans, it has to be poison. If I make myself sick with Wolfsbane I won’t shift this full moon so I need just enough to make me sick, not enough to kill me,” he explained. You’d heard those werewolves took medicine to put off their lunar transformations, but you assumed it was some kind of magical concoction you were unfamiliar with, not some common position. 

“Right, just a moment,” you said, carefully you extracted a few drops of poison and put them into a separate container then added a diluent to help it go down smoother. You hesitated to give it to him. There wasn’t an antidote to wolfsbane if it was too much there would be nothing anyone could do. 

You weren’t sure why you cared so much, you’d sold poisons before, and you weren’t naive enough to think you weren’t in some way responsible for those murders committed but this felt different somehow, if he died it would be an accident and that made it different somehow. 

“You’ve done this before?” you asked cautiously. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. No, he hadn’t.

“I know the measurements I should be fine,” he said. 

“I would feel more comfortable giving this to you if you allowed me to accompany you while you took it just so I could ease your pain while you were sick and do what I can to help,” you offered.  

“You’re braver than you look, asking to be alone with a werewolf during the full moon,” Gabriel responded, you didn’t think anyone could be that dangerous, werewolf or not if they were writing on the floor in pain. 

“I’ll make you a compromise,” he offered, “I’ll let you bring me medicine and make sure I’m alive, but you can’t stay.” you could live with that, you tilted the vile towards him and let him take it from your hands, your fingers brushing as he took it. He handed placed a small pile of gold coins on the counter, more than you usually charged but you figured you could keep the change if you were going to be making a house call. Gabriel gave you the address of where he would be staying on the night of the full moon, a remote home on the other edge of town, and promised he would open the door when you knocked. Then he left, and you got started on the rest of your busy spring day. 

–

You’d never paid much attention to the phase of the moon before, but now you were careful to check it every night, Gabriel had given you a date to look out for but his presence in your life had sparked a new curiosity in you. Aside from checking the moon, you started pulling out old apothecary books and looking for any mention of Lycanthropy. You found that werewolves would shift into a more animalistic wolf-like form on the night of the full moon unless they were sick or physically weakened, and yes Wolfsbane was a common poison used to achieve this effect. You also dug up all sorts of treatments commonly used to ease any pain left after shifting or to calm a werewolf’s potentially feral mind while they were in their wolf form. 

Over the course of the week while you were waiting for the moon to turn full you gathered a basket of things that you thought would help and medicines in small enough doses that he could treat himself. You left your home right at sunset. You knew the path well and had no trouble finding your way to the house Gabriel was staying at, Ivan had found other lodgings for tonight. 

By the time you reached the house, it was dark your path only illuminated by the full moon. It was kind of spooky, still, you’d come all this way, raised your hand to the door, and knocked. There was no response, and all at once you felt incredibly foolish, of course, he wouldn’t be able to answer the door, in the state he was in. You tried the door and it opened, so you let yourself in. 

The house was dark you blinked a few times to adjust your eyes to the lack of light. Eventually, you started walking through the house your hand on one wall to guide yourself. You called out for Gabriel once but there was no response you slowly checked each room, still cautious. You pushed a door open and there he was. 

You let yourself into the room and quickly went to his bedside, he was awake, breathing heavily in the throws of wolfsbane poisoning. You sat down on his bed and started taking in his appearance. His skin was a sickly pale shade, clammy to the touch and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked very ill, but he didn’t look like he was dying. That was good at least. 

You dampened a cloth and applied it to his forehead. “How are you feeling?” you asked softly. He reached out and grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand to his cheek. His skin felt disgustingly warm but you let him press his face into your palm. 

“I haven’t shifted, so it could be worse,” he croaked, his voice raspy. He looked up at you and his gaze softened. “You smell good,” he commented. You felt your face go hot, you didn’t know to respond to that, so instead you pretended like you hadn’t heard that. 

“Are you sore? How can I help you?” you asked lifting your basket of medicine up to the bed with your free hand. 

“You just being here feels good,” he breathed. Clearly talking to him wasn’t getting you anywhere. You studied him closely, only looking away when you realized he was looking at you just as intently. You took your hand from him and started digging through your medicines.

“Here, drink this,” you ordered handing him a vile of medicine. It should help settle his nerves and ease some of the pain. He tried to take the vile from you but it slipped out of his weak fingers, so you held it to his lips for him as he drank. It was odd, you’d been intimidated by Gabriel when you first met him, and when you’d seen him again that impression had solidified in your mind, now here he was laid out in bed unable to lift a bottle to his mouth. 

It wasn’t a completely fair comparison, you would probably be far worse in his position, if anything it was impressive that he was holding up this well. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, “I feel better already,” he assured you. 

“That shouldn’t be possible, it’ll take at least half an hour to feel the effects,” you said light-heartedly. Gabriel smiled weakly up at you, 

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said. You felt your face go hot again, you’d have to note that wolfsbane made the victim particularly flirty. The two of you fell into a peaceful silence. Gabriel drifted in and out of sleep and you stayed by his side monitoring his symptoms. It had been a while since you’d treated patients directly like this, you didn’t produce medicine strong enough to treat anything worse than a strong cold, normally your customers were concerned family members, and you kind of missed treating patients directly. 

“I know I told you, you couldn’t stay, but-” Gabriel spoke up before trailing off. He reached for you again but didn’t quite manage to take your hand again. You met him in the middle and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’ll stay,” you promised. He was already looking better, and suddenly you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. if the point of taking Wolfsbane was to make him so sick he couldn’t shift, wouldn’t making him better make it so he could shift? But he still looked so ill, surely he wasn’t well enough to shift. besides you were a trained healer, you didn’t think you could just ignore a person in pain.

 Gabriel looked up suddenly very awake and sat up. 

“You really must be feeling better,” you laughed, he did look much better, not as sweaty or as pale. He pulled you around the waist and pulled you close, you tensed up as leaned into you, bringing his face close to your neck but he didn’t seem like he was trying to attach you, or even kiss your neck, he was just… smelling you. 

“The things I could do to you,” he murmured, again it didn’t sound like a threat it sounded more like lustful musings. 

“Gabriel?” you asked shakily as he nuzzled your shoulder. He seemed to snap back to reality and pulled away from you, but just slightly, he didn’t seem ready to let you go.  

“What was that that you gave me?” he asked, he sounded calm but his eyes were wide, you thought quickly back to what you’d given him. 

“A tea blend, green tea, crocus sativus, ginger, cinnamon-” you listed it was all just antioxidants, things that would help relieve pain, then you froze. Crocus stivus, saffron, was a natural aphrodisiac, but it was such a subtle effect it shouldn’t have affected him like this, it was such a small dose. Maybe because his immune system was already so weak things like a pinch of saffron could hit harder than you were expecting. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” you admitted, as you realized what had happened. “I’m sorry you said werewolves were more resilient I didn’t think you would notice let alone, well this,” you apologized profusely. 

“I wouldn’t have thought it would have hit me like this either if you had told me,” he said, and then he was looking at you again, intense and full of longing. A dark curl fell in front of his eyes, you wanted to brush it out of the way so he’d keep looking at you that way. 

“Maybe it’s just because it’s you here with me that I'm reacting this way,” he breathed, 

“What does that mean?” you asked, matching his quiet tone

“It means I’ve wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you, and I wouldn’t need an aphrodisiac to feel this pull toward you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t desire him in the same way but this was just all so sudden. Still, when he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes. 

His mouth was warm but not feverish, it had been a long time since you’d been touched like this. It set your blood on fire. He pushed you backward laying you down. 

Gabriel grabbed your hips and jerked your body towards him. With a dull pang of horror, you realized that his fingers had stretched and turned into sharp claws, with thick black fur extending up his hands and arms. Before you could even gasp, he raked his claws over your chest ripping your clothes to shreds, but he somehow managed not to cut your skin. His mouth traveled down your neck to linger kisses over your now exposed chest. You couldn’t help but react to his touch, arching up to his mouth and moaning. You covered your mouth trying to quiet your own sounds of pleasure. 

“There's no one here but us, be loud I want to hear you,” Gabriel instructed pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it to the bed. You realized just how much bigger his hand was than yours, he could easily how both of your hands in one of his with room to spare. 

Heat pooled in your stomach when Gabriel's lips found the skin of your hips. He pulled off the rest of the shredded clothes and spread your legs while his tongue trailed over your loins. 

“Can I? Can I please?” he asked, begged, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Yes,” you breathed. Gabriel kissed your inner thigh before he let his lips touch the apex of your legs. You couldn’t help but thrash as his tongue tasted you. Gabriel gripped your hips so you couldn’t escape his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get enough of your sex he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. You gripped his hair holding him just as tightly as he was holding on to you. You realized his hair had turned into wiery fur, and his ears were sharp at the end. But the idea that a shifting werewolf was going down on you right now didn’t bother you nearly as much as it probably should have. Even with his grip you could squirm enough to buck your hips up into his mouth and you did so over and over again as he continued to pleasure you. 

“I’m going to cum,” you groaned, even with your warning he didn’t slow down, if anything he seemed to be edging you closer and closer to your climax like he wanted you to cum on his face. You threw your head back in pleasure as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Gabriel pulled back, his face more wolflike than when he’d first gone down on you, his tongue dripping in your cum. 

He stood up to his full height, His clothes had fallen off as his body contorted and changed. He palmed his cock in one clawed hand, bringing your attention to his arousal. Again, you felt like you should be scared or at least intimidated, but all you wanted was for him to be inside of you.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked him. 

“More than anything,” he growled, He was so much larger than you his body easily dwarfed you, you could feel his hard cock press against your thigh as he positioned himself over you, up close you could see how his original features still showed through in his more monstrous form. His eyes were still human still kind. He pushed into and you savored the deep growl that reverberated in his chest as he felt your soft walls envelop him. He drew his hips back before slowly pushing back into you, his pace slowly increased as the two of you found a rhythm. You pulled him into a kiss, his sharp teeth threatened to cut your lips, but the slight danger only thrilled you. 

“It was like you were meant to take me,” he growled as his pelvis snapped toward yours. He pressed a clawed hand down on your stomach feeling the bulge that formed every time he thrust into you. You tried to speak to tell him that he was making you feel just as good but when you opened your mouth he pushed his tongue past your lips, muffling any attempt at speech. 

You could feel a coil of pleasure building inside of you threatening to snap for the second time tonight. You dug your nails into his back, raking your fingers through the patches of fur begging to spread over his skin. 

“I’m going to knot you going to fill you up and make you mine,” he growled you could tell he was getting close to his own release by the way his thrusts were becoming erratic and his labored breathing. You were right there with him. 

“Make me yours,” you moaned. You were close to a second orgasm, overwhelmed with the pleasure and his closeness. You came just a few moments before he gave one final thrust pushing his knot inside of you and reaching his own high. Gabriel groaned and collapsed back onto the bed, curling up beside you, holding you close. You wondered if Gabriel would stay in town long enough for you to help with the next full moon. 

[redtippedfox]

You know what would be really funny is if I added in future!Marinette sitting by Emilies coffin in the past getting drunk off of wine. Talking shit about Gabriel while hella drunk. Like it’s her fifth day in the past and she’s kinda spiraling from realizing she’s stuck in the past.

“And then your dumbass husband decided “oh I’m gonna corrupt these powerful ancient gods and think I can control them!” What a moron!”

“Oh mother-in-law I wonder just how you married such a dumb idiot of a man.”

“Why the hell did he have to put you in a glass coffin like Snow White? Doesn’t he know that’s like fucking creepy?”

“Adrien misses you but he’s got some great new friends that love him like family, they all killed Gabriel but ya’know who doesn’t wanna kill Gabriel.”

“I’m thinking of drawing on his face while he’s sleeping, but like with a tattoo pen instead of sharpie.”

“I wanna kick his ass so bad but I can’t! Like why? Let me kick his ass! Stupid time travel rules.”

“I don’t think he’s noticed yet that I have stolen three of his finest wine bottles and drank them all. “

“And then he threw Adrien off a fu king skyscraper! A skyscraper! Your dumbass husband almost killed your son!”

“Gotta be honest Nathalie is kinda hot, I can see why you guys kept her around. I’d ditch Gabriel though we don’t need that stanky man ruining this family ya know?”

“…I need more wine.”

[lchufflepuffcorn]

I hope I asked correctly. This is my first time on your blog [My request is a imagine for a female reader and Jasper Hale] Requested and fluff

Well, my request is that the reciter is a new student and he is very sociable, but he is also an accomplished singer and one day the reciter goes into the woods for privacy and sings in a high note and a voice that attracts even animals and he does not know that someone is watching

Warnings : Borderline creepy Jasper, wannabe tense moment.

Words: 961

Author's note: Nice nice nice (I don't know how long this has been sitting in my askes, but there it is.) Also, listen to First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes, if you want context for the song. I'm very glad you liked my blood enough to request something, I'm so sorry for the time it took me to answer back to you. Since you didn't specify the vibe you wanted, I played around with something new, hope you like it !!

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Snow White moment

Jasper Hale x Fem!Reader

(If Forks was a bore and grey, then (Y/N) was the small ray of sunshine that managed to pierce through. If (Y/N) was sunshine incarnated, her warmth was contagious, arriving in mid-December was not a problem, and she'd even managed to enter the school choir before Christmas break. Now early February, you had yet to find a group to attach herself to, people demanded her attention during any free time the school gave them, and having eyes follow your every move was not unusual here.)

Leaving English class was always a relief. The choking feeling you drowned in was lifted when the bell rang, and teenagers flooded the halls toward their next goal. You, following in their protective waves. 

Humming, as per usual, you walked from English to your locker, books under your arms as Jake and Laurianne talked loudly beside you. Echoes of the other students' conversations fly over you, and warmth surrounds you as you walk with them. 

Something about the book for the homework. You'd already studied it in your last school. 

"I don't see the problem with Maus... It's an important read about the holocaust with depictions of meese for the Jews and cats for the Germans..." You say, adding to their conversation, opening your locker. 

Jake adds something that gets lost in the current of sounds, and you follow Laurianne in her laughter. Your eyes catch Melissa's, and you wave in her direction, smiling at her and Gabrielle from afar. Then, you bury your nose in your locker again. 

Then, you feel it again, the eyes on your back, snarly, cold air hitting the skin of your neck. You have shivers and cold sweat running down your skin at the feeling. You're used to that, the glances. The voices around you dim as your heart starts beating in your throat. A quick check around and the same golden eyes you're used to seeing etched on you shine.

You smile at him, a force of habit. 

Jasper Hale, Jasper Cullen? You're not too sure. Melissa tried to explain their family relationship to you when you first arrived at Forks, but that gave you a migraine. He never talks. Wrong. He talks sometimes in class. You share English, and he's sat behind you. Jasper is a bit creepy, though his sister (twin?) Rosalie has a colder appearance yet is more friendly, conversing when needed.  

Jasper never speaks first, always looking. His other sister, Alice, with whom you have art class says it's because he's shy. You didn't ask. 

Jasper smiles back at you a little. A twitch of his lips only. Under the fluorescent lights, it makes him seem ominously pale. Parchemin skin and shadows creak the skin around his mouth and make his mouth look full of sharp, fang-like teeth. One of his brothers, the one with the sad eyes, says something to him that makes him frown. You don't remember which one he is... E-something. Jasper looks back at you, his eyes now locked with yours and for the brief second you stay like this, you can swear that Jasper's eyes were darker. 

You look back into your locker. Art class is next, and relief washes over you. The end of the day is near, and liberty soon will follow. 

*

Walking home was usually your favourite time because you could cut through the woods and sing your heart out. One thing Forks lacked (except maybe everything) was a competent and interesting choir group. This was one thing Denver had more than Forks, for certain. For a while, the woods were the safest and calmest places to sing your heart out. 

Enunciating the words with the correct rhythm, something easy, something soft. Song you know by heart. You know lots of them by heart, but this is your favourite. You start by humming the words, and the deeper she walks into the forest, the words leaving from your lips, clear as day. A twig snaps in the background, bringing a shocked silence as you turn around, scanning the woods around you. 

Nothing. 

Well, it's nothing out of the ordinary. The woods crack and break, it's natural, and you start singing again. 

"Besides, maybe this time is different. I mean, I think you like me..." You sing softly as a bird flies low and rests on a branch near you. You smile, the weird sensation of eyes watching over you (at you?) slowly falling toward the back of your mind as more animals slowly creep toward you. 

"This is the first day of my life. Swear I was born right in the doorway." You start again, looking at the squirrels and the solo rabbit creep your way. You sit on cold, dead leaves and forest moss, not the most comfortable. 

It's rare, a sight like this, that animals get close to humans like this. Other birds land on branches as you sing, your voice slowly getting louder. You relish in your Snow White moment. 

*

Alice saw it happen. That meeting with her and the animals. Alice says she has something. A talent. Like his, like Edward's, like hers. 

Jasper creeps closer again. He'd recoiled when he stepped on that branch earlier. He got distracted. 

He'll talk to her soon, Alice told him she saw it. He knows she didn't tell him about the visions she got of her death either, nor the ones where she flees, scared for her life. 

Hunt hunt hunt. Prey prey prey. Words that run inside his head all the time. She smells like heaven. 

He'll ask Rosalie to get in a team with her, in the next class. A group project is the perfect opportunity to meet new people. Not to get too close... just close enough. 

Yes, just close enough. 

[aidanchaser]

ive had kind of a bummer week so i started a new project to get some creative hits before going back to work on longterm projects. here's a snippet of the 1920s AU i've been playing with~

It wasn’t snowing, though it certainly felt cold enough to. Marinette pulled her collar closed against her throat and cheeks, keeping herself as snug as she could. She had some privacy in the dark alley that guarded the back entrance of the Lucky Lady, but the click of her lighter must have attracted attention from the street. She saw the white suit jacket and vest that was becoming painfully familiar approach. Her mask was still in place, but she did not need him getting too close. She could not risk Adrien Agreste getting a decent look at Ladybug. She stepped back into the shadow of the alley, and he took the hint, coming to a stop when he was at arm’s length from her “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” he said, voice soft enough to wring out Marinette’s heart, “but do you happen to have a light? I seem to have left mine in my coat pocket.” He sounded like the boy who had abandoned her, not the man who had returned. His voice was gentle, uncertain. There was none of the swagger she’d seen in the young man in her shop that morning, nor the cold grin he’d sported when he’d entered the Lady Luck. She took a drag on her cigarette to steel her nerves, then handed him her lighter. She risked a glance at his face as he lit his own cigarette, careful to keep her own face in the darkness. “What happened to your coat?” she asked. “I gave it to a gentleman who looked like he needed it more than I did.” The tip of his cigarette glowed orange, and he returned her lighter to her. His eyes looked warm in this dim light. She tucked her lighter back into her coat. “And what happened to your date?” “I called her a cab. I was hoping to chat with you before returning home.” Marinette could not stop a sneer from crossing her face. She hoped the darkness hid that, too. “What business do you have with me?” “I heard a rumor that if a gentleman is down on his luck, you’re the lady to see.” “I’ve been known to reverse fortunes,” she murmured. “From toppling those on thrones to lifting up those in the gutter. You don’t strike me as a man in a gutter.” He turned his head to blow a lungful of smoke away from her. The street lamp glinted off of his hair, creating a golden halo. “One man’s heaven,” he shrugged, and let the rest of phrase disappear behind a rueful smile.  Everything about it prickled against Marinette’s skin like a bed of needles, but she did not want to waste an opportunity here. Max had told her that they would need more information, so she was going to get it. “What do you want me to do?” “Only to tell you that, if you’re interested in toppling thrones, my father has staked a lot of his reputation and finances into this one sale.” “Mayor Bourgeois is the one selling.” Adrien shrugged and extinguished his cigarette against the wall. “I just balance the books. That’s all I can tell you.” “How do I know you won’t use this for your own gain? You just want me to take down your father so you can take over in his place—is that it?” The self-deprecating smile vanished. He let out a deep breath, and the warm air of his lungs collected in front of him as surely as if he had taken another drag on his cigarette. “Do it right, and there won’t be anything left for me to take over.” He tipped his hat to her. “Thanks for the light.” And he turned back to the street. Marinette waited until he had rounded the corner and was well out of sight before snuffing out her own cigarette and hurrying back inside. She could already hear Max and Nino warning her it was a trap, but she felt recklessness curling inside her chest. She had to know what else was hidden in that art exchange, or it would burn her alive. She had to tear down Gabriel Agreste, and if Adrien came tumbling down with him, well, she wouldn’t complain about that.

[gabriel-xander]

I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 4

[Scaramouce x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

{Also on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 4: You are an Embarrassment

The trip was a bit awkward in your opinion. Not once have you had to endure Scaramouche's company alone. Never had he allowed an expedition with less than five subordinates (NOT including yourself) with him, let alone just you.

You two matched in terms of immediate attire: long, thick coats that reached to your calves, the seams lined with thick fur. Neither of you had your hoods up, in your boss' case, it was because he was wearing his big ass hat. Your fatui mask was getting uncomfortably cold against your face.

It was silent the entire trip, minus the few, quiet swears from the cold, and frustrated grumbling from you as you took this time to review new reports.

The budget from a recent mission you had was smaller than you expected, so you were trying to do the math quietly. You were trying to determine how much of a percentage raise you'd need to include for next time. Your usual deployment was a consistency of five different Skirmishers and two Mirror Maidens.

Including yourself, that's eight mouths to feed, eight wardrobes to prepare, eight bodies to equip weapons to, eight people to provide efficient funds to-

"Oh!"

You cheer suddenly as you scribble on the paper with lead. It's a material that had originated from Fontaine: a thin, wooden stink with black graphite in the center. It was a lot more convenient than inks and brushes.

You hope you're actually writing though, night had just arrived so it was hard to see what you're writing.

You continue to babble out loud without realizing: "I just need to add 13%, then an additional 20% for the send-off fee-"

"-Shut up."

"You shut up."

…

…

Wait.

FUCK!

The materials from your hands disappear into the aether as you frantically wave your hands in defense, stepping away from the pissed off Scaramouche.

"WH-I-I DIDN'T MEAN IT! I-I AM SO SORRY, MY LORD! I-IT'S A HORRIBLE HABIT I HAVE WITH MY COMRA-"

"-You're dead."

"I'M SORRRYYYYY."

You don't waste a fucking second before you're running the fuck away. Lucky for you, you've done more traveling in Snezhnaya than Scaramouche has. Running in the thick snow was a breeze for you as you had learned the hard way on how to tread these lands.

Scaramouche on the other hand…

"Get back here right now!"

The poor dude was stumbling in the cold with uneven footing that helped the winds push him around. You think you can fire not too far-

"OW!!"

Hot, white pain shoots up your spine, causing you to drop to your knees. You look back at the Balladeer with so much judgement in your eyes.

"DID YOU JUST FUCKING ZAP ME!?!?"

"Get the fuck over here!"

"Not until you calm down!!"

You scramble back to your feet only to get fucking tackled by the damn Harbinger. Unfortunately, neither you nor Scaramouche realized that you were right by a cliff; you both fell over and rolled down the snow.

Instinctively wanting to protect the Harbinger at all cost (despite the fact he wants to kill you), you hug him tightly to your body while forcing your shoulders back into the snow. The friction does little good to slow you down, but it keeps you two from rolling like dumb-asses.

And all too sudden, your body hits a particularly sharp rock. It does manage to stop you and Scaramouche, but you also feel it pierce through your thick coat.

You survived, but at what cost?

You won the battle, but lost the war.

Your entire backside is unbearably cold, and you think you can feel blood beginning to seep from where the rock is jabbing.

You relax your arms from Scaramouche, panic that he's not moving (but he is breathing slightly fast). You noticed his hat had fallen off, but it was okay since you could see it slowly slide down the hill, bumping against your feet.

Shit. Your mask is gone too.

But first things first…

You awkwardly tap his arm, "Are you oka-"

"-Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

You tilt your head back into the snow to see who the fuck it was. It was 3 men with heavy coats. There was a brunette with blue eyes with a bandanna covering the lower half of his face.

The other two had black hair and looked almost identical, most likely twins. The only difference was their eyes: one had light green eyes, the other had a heterochromia of light green, and medium brown.

You chuckle nervously, "Ah-ha, hi there. Um… we kind of… fell."

"We saw." The heterochromia eyed man grins, "Funny shit."

"Well… that's just embarrassing, huh?" Scaramouche chuckles weakly.

You wince when he pushes himself off you, a small smile gracing his features. You know that face and tone: it's "nice" Scaramouche. The facade he uses around those who are not to know you're Fatui.

As you sit up, you check Scaramouche for any injuries. It amuses you how he tenses up at the attention, he has to keep the act up and not pimp slap you in front of these people. You sigh in relief when nothing seems to be wrong, already brushing the snow off the Harbinger

"At least it's just these nice folks, and not some stupid hilichurls." You said softly, noting the Balladeer's fists are clenched on his lap.

"The hell are you two doing out here?" The brunette furrows his eyebrows, "The nearest town isn't for miles, and I doubt you're dumb enough to take a romantic stroll in this weather."

"Actually, we-ACHOO!!"

Oh so violently, you sneeze into the crook of your elbow. You groan quietly as you and Scaramouche stand up from the snow.

"Ugh, excuse me," You chuckle humorlessly.

Scaramouche takes a few steps away to take his hat that's getting buried in the snow.

"We should get going now," Scaramouche says, "You're going to get sick at this rate, and I-"

"-Well, why don't you two rest with us for tonight?" The twin with green eyes offer with a smile, "There's actually going to be a rough storm in-"

As if the Gods themselves were timing it, lightning strikes in the far distance. A light drizzle begins to settle.

"-Right now, actually." The man continues, "I'd feel really guilty if we just let you continue like this when you're getting sick."

You tense up and shake your head, "Oh, no! That's not-I-I mean, I don't want to impose! Plus, your friends might not-"

"-It's fine," The brunette shakes his head, "It's just until the storm clears up."

The twins nod simultaneously.

"It's not a problem at all."

"It's no problem."

"Hm… Okay," Scaramouche sighs, "Sorry for the intrusion."

"Sorry f-ACHOO!!"

Damn, you're embarrassing yourself.

"Oh!" The twin with green eyes pipes up with a grin as he gestures towards himself, "My name is Ivan, and this is my brother Isaac!"

You all look at the brunette with blue eyes who had the bandana still covering half his face.

"...I'm Noah."

You laugh lightly as you begin walking first, "It's nice to meet you all! You can call me [Y/n]!"

Scaramouche refrains the urge to frown, "Call me Kunikuzushi."

Kunikuzushi? How did he come up with that name so quickly? And you noticed the way he presented that name: he was talking to ALL of you. Letting you know that you're supposed to call him that, as well.

"Kunikuzushi?" Noah scoffs under his breath as he leads you to their camp, "That doesn't sound like a local name."

"I'm a vagrant from Inazuma," The Harbinger flawlessly lies, "It's certainly colder here, that's for sure."

"So," You scrunch up your nose as you feel another sneeze coming, your voice quickly rising in pitch as you talk faster with every passing word, "What are you aLL DOING OUTINTHISWEATH-ACHOO!!"

Smooth.

Ivan laughs at your misery, "We're just traveling. When we noticed the storm, we decided to stop for tonight."

You smile in gratitude, "Well, thank you for the hospitality."

----

"My Lord."

"What."

"I am… so sorry."

Ivan, Isaac, and Noah are inside their huge ass tent to get you and Scaramouche thicker blankets, something hot for you to eat, and medicine. You and the Balladeer were sitting by the fire that was quickly dying out.

Well, if it weren't for Scaramouche that is. He was tending to it with a watchful eye on a log close to the fire. Occasionally, he'd zap the wood with his mysterious Electro ability, that he's capable of using without a Vision, to keep it hot. But there was a metal rod stuck in there, he mainly used that to tend the fire.

"Whatever. You're bound to say "shut up" by reflex now since you work for me." Scaramouche shrugs.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, "Huh? No, I'm not sorry for that."

The Harbinger snaps, "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry for getting-ACHOO!... Sick." You groan, completely ignoring his previous offense, "And for um… getting us knocked down that hill."

Scaramouche doesn't bother correcting you that it was actually HIM who knocked you both over.

"Gods, and I lost my mask. It's so unprofessional."

Scaramouche almost wants to say it's not a bad thing, that your face is a sight for sore eyes. But fuck that noise.

"On the bright side," You continue after sneezing again, "Noah is a good name. He's a member of the Treasure Hoarders we're after. I don't know about Ivan and Isaac, though."

Scaramouche stays silent for a while, so you assume the conversation is done.

You sink into the log you're sitting on, sighing into the thick fur coat you were given. It smells… like something. Maybe it's one of those guys' scent? Can't say you hate it, though. It's… it's actually pretty good and comforting.

"[L/n]."

"Hm?"

You haven't realized you closed your eyes, but you ain't about to open them. You're just basking in the coat.

Ah, you might fall asleep, you feel so tired and weak. Maybe it's because you failed to inform anyone of the wound on your side. You don't think it's bleeding anymore, but it's not even cleaned or wrapped.

"[L/n]."

"Yes, My Lord?" You repeat yourself.

"Sit back up," You can hear the eye-roll Scaramouche gives you, "You can rest after those morons come back with your food and crap."

You reluctantly open your eyes and sway in your spot, "Yes, sir."

"And don't call me that now. If they overhear you, it'll be hard explaining yourself."

"Yes, si-erm, Kunikuzushi."

"..."

"..."

"I just told you not to fall asleep."

Oh shit, you didn't realize you closed your eyes again.

"But I'm tiredddddd," You whine childishly, "And this coat is so warm and it smells good."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You open your eyes to see Noah walking up to you, eyes colored in amusement. Noah still had that bandana covering his mouth, but you just know he's fucking smirking. He has a small blue bottle, spoon, bandages, gauze, and a large white bottle sitting all on top of a folded blanket.

"Ugh, please ignore that. That's so embarrassing," You sink in the coat to hide half your face, "I just-you know, I'm sick. I don't know what I'm talking about."

Noah shakes his head, "It's fine. I won't tease anymore. Move over, won't you?"

You do as you're asked, looking at Scaramouche with a pointed look. Keep an eye on Noah.

Noah places the blanket down on the ground near the fire. He then looks at you and tugs lightly at your coat.

"Take this off, let's clean that wound on your rib." He instructs.

"You… How do you know-"

"-I saw you bleed through your coat," Noah explains, "It wouldn't do anyone good if you died or got infected. And I wouldn't be able to sleep at night without a clear conscience."

You sigh through your nose and begin taking off the coat. You fold it onto the log on your side. You begin to unbutton the coat you had on previous, only for Noah to stop your hands with his.

"Uh, maybe wait until I leave," Noah clears his throat nervously, "Your boyfriend looks like he'll kill me. He can clean you up since your wound is pretty… uh… yeah."

Boyfriend??

Very nervously and very hesitantly, you look over to Scaramouche. He was fucking glaring at Noah for no reason. He was leaned over and everything, being very obvious with his glare.

You're about to deny that Scaramouche was anyone close to you, but you never get the chance to.

"Exactly, just give me 10 minutes," Scaramouche stands up and slowly stalks over, "You're not touching her."

… Hah?

Noah nods and gets up, waving before he walks over to the tent where Isaac and Ivan were in.

You blink owlishly, "Was… that necessary, Kunikuzushi?"

"You said so yourself that Noah is someone we have to watch out for." Scaramouche frowns, "As if I'd let my best ass-kisser get poisoned carelessly."

You roll your eyes, "Fine, okay. I'd prefer addressing my own wounds, anyway."

Scaramouche throws his head back, "HA! As if! Move over, I'll do it. I already said I would anyway."

"I-... O-Okay…" You resume stripping your coat with reluctance, "But… was going along as my boyfriend necessary, too?"

He deadpans at you as he sits next to you.

You shake your head: "Never mind. It's-really not important."

"No," Scaramouche mutters, "it's not."

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter seventy one

close to home | chapter seventy one

plot: time continues to pass for the reader

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,008 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: my body dysmorphia is insane rn I've lost like 70 pounds this year and I cannot keep up with how I look mentally and its such a mind fuck I cry like every day cause nothing is good enough I need to go back to therapy honestly at least by ed is under control tho

“I can’t find anything,” You groaned as you shut the dresser drawer. “All I want are the sweatpants Michonne had when she was pregnant, and I can’t find them. My life is over.”

The hardwood floor was cold against your back as you lay down against it. You whined as tears filled your eyes. 

“Did ya leave ‘em downstairs?” Daryl asked, standing above you. “Why ya always gotta lie on the floor?”

“Because it’s where I find comfort,” You retorted. “I just want my pants.”

Daryl sighed, and you watched him leave the new bedroom. It was only your third night here, as you had to wait for the paint fumes to leave before you could sleep. And Daryl made sure you waited. You hadn’t even finished moving all your belongings up.

You stared up at the ceiling and waited until Daryl came back, holding the pants you were looking for. “They were in ya dresser, crazy girl. Now get off the floor.”

“Will you help me put them on?”

He sighed again as he sat down on the bed and nodded. “Let’s go, woman, ain’ got all night.” 

You chuckled as you slowly got up off the floor. Using his shoulders to help keep balance, he slid the pants to your waist, so the front band was resting under the bump. 

Daryl put his hands on your waist and kissed the bump right above your belly button, his lips grazing against the healed scars. “We gotta start thinkin’ of names. She gonna be here in four months.” 

“I have a name already, just keeping them a secret for now.” You said, shutting off the lights and then climbing into bed. 

“Secrets, huh? Thought we wasn’ supposed to have secrets between us?”

You felt his arm wrap around your lower waist, and then his bare chest was against your arm. You smiled and turned your head, leaning up to kiss him. 

“I will tell you soon.” You bumped your nose against his and then looked up at the ceiling. “It’s way too hot in here. I can’t wear these sweatpants.” 

***

Between months five and six, your belly seemed to explode. It was now a full-on pregnancy belly, and everything was bothering you. Your clothes itched, your food was dry, and you were either too hot or too cold. 

Daryl met every demand you requested or didn’t, and you were eternally grateful he was with you. He held you every night, ensured you could sleep comfortably, and helped you with everything he could. 

Still, it was hard. He never thought he’d be a father, never wanted to be one until he met you and saw the life he could have. He never thought he’d even have a wife, let alone someone like you. Someone who was as brave and strong as you. He knew that baby was the luckiest baby in the world to have a mother like you. 

“You okay?” 

Daryl glanced up at Aaron and came back to the present. They were about fifteen feet up, clearing another foot of snow off the storage shelter before it got too weighed down. 

The archer nodded and watched Aaron turn to see what he’d been staring at. 

You were on the street, your jacket covering the ever-growing bump, and you were with Rosita, Gabriel, and Michonne. You were laughing, with red cheeks, and seemed healed. Like the hell you’d been through was long behind you. 

“Three more months, right?” Aaron asked. “You excited?”

“Just be happy once it’s over, and they both okay,” Daryl said, shoveling off some snow. 

“I can’t wait until she’s here. You guys picked out any names? Gracie wanted me to suggest Belle, but I think she just likes Beauty and the Beast too much.”

Daryl snorted. “Nah. (Y/N)’s got some names, but ain’ tellin’ me yet.”

Aaron laughed as he flung some snow off the roof. “Sounds like her.”

Daryl paused and looked at his friend, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he thought about yours and his conversation from last night. “Hey uh, listen, she wanted me to ask ya… she wanted ya to be the baby’s godfather. In case anythin’ ever happens to us.” 

Aaron paused and looked at the archer, a smile already growing on his red-cheeked face. “I would be honored.”

Daryl nodded and shoveled more snow off the roof. “She gonna pick between Rosita and Michonne. Don’ say anythin’.”

The two of them quickly finished the roof and soon had their feet on the ground. Daryl walked around the building and towards you. 

His steps slowed so he could admire how beautiful you looked with red cheeks and wind-curled hair loose from its braid but under a wool hat. And he loved seeing the bump. He loved seeing you pregnant with his baby. He loved that everyone knew you were pregnant with his child. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t keep his hands off you in the bedroom and why he knew you were still sore from the way you shifted your weight back and forth.

Daryl’s entire world was wrapped up in an old parka. 

You smiled widely when he approached you, and your arm wrapped around his waist. 

“We should get ya inside, get that baby somethin’ to eat.” He told you quietly. 

“My keeper has returned. I will see you guys later.” You said. 

The house was warm when he led you to it, and after he made sure you ate a decent amount and had the tea that Siddiq ensured was great for prenatal care—thanks to Hilltop—he knew you were ready to lie down. 

Your middle-of-the-day naps were a regular occurrence. 

“I can’t wait to get her out of me,” You sighed loudly as you shut the door behind you. “I’m so exhausted every day.”

Daryl sat down at the edge of the bed and brushed back his hair to watch you change. 

“She kept me up half the night kicking.” You continued, but your words drowned out as he stared at you. 

You’d put on weight since getting pregnant, which of course, was a given. Your thighs were a little thicker, and your hips had a curve to them they didn’t before. And, of course, there was the bump. With lighting strikes of stretch marks claiming the undersides of the bump. 

More scars that made you you. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

Daryl blinked and looked up at you. You were wearing an oversized shirt that did little to hide the bump, and he grabbed your arm to pull you toward him. 

“Ya look gorgeous,” He said, pulling you to sit on your lap. He knew you wouldn’t be able to fit in a week's time. You barely fit as it was.

“Oh, here we go again.”

“Shut the hell up, crazy girl,” Daryl said before kissing you deeply. 

His hands pressed against your waist before roaming your body, taking in every dip, curve, mark, and bump. He couldn’t keep his hands in one spot as he slid them under your shirt to feel your warm skin. 

“Daryl…” 

He hummed against your lips and pulled away. “Get on the bed.”

***

You were panting as you pulled your shirt down. Daryl fell beside you and pressed a kiss to your temple. His breathing was labored, and you thought back to only minutes ago when he had your back against his chest, his fingers caressing you, and he was taking you from behind. Or from when, even earlier, looking down while riding him into oblivion. 

“And I thought we had a lot of sex when we were at the Sanctuary.” You mused, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. 

“Ain’ like ya gonna get pregnant.” 

You laughed loudly and shook your head. “Daryl Dixon making a joke. He must be in a good mood.” Your smile widened when he told you to shut up. 

You sighed with contentment and kissed his shoulder. “Are we gonna talk about the Kingdom?”

“I know ya don’ want me to go.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. You can handle yourself out there. And the Kingdom needs escorts. I just hate the idea of not being out there with you. But I also know how much Carol and Ezekiel need you.”

“It’s only a few days. And I can radio ya once I get there.” 

You shifted your hips as the baby moved, then sat up to move his arm and cuddle against him. “Every day at ten in the morning.”

Daryl turned on his side and pressed a kiss against your cheek. “If that’s what ya want.”

“And tell Jerry I expect a cobbler next Apple season. Actually, two, since I’ll only be a few months postpartum.”

Daryl hummed and kissed you again. “Anythin’ for ya, baby girl.”

***

You cried for an hour after Daryl left with the group the next morning. You were positive it was just the hormones, but you couldn’t help it. So you ended up at Gabriel’s house with Rosita, eating a jar of canned peaches from Hilltop and listening to old records. 

Her bump was showing too, though yours had a good two months of her. You couldn’t believe that the two of you were pregnant simultaneously, let alone so closely together. It made you feel even closer to her. 

But when the kids got out of school you headed back home, and were on parent duty. You would be on parent duty until Michonne was back. Not that you minded. You loved the two of them like they were your own. 

“Alright, come on Jude,” You said as you stretched a fitted sheet over the chairs. “RJ, go run up and get the pillows, okay?”

The little boy took off upstairs, and you smiled when you heard him thudding around. 

“Can we make some popcorn?” 

“Do we still have kernels?” You asked, looking at the tent the two of you just built. 

“I think so. I’ll check.”

She ran off just as RJ came back with every blanket in the house, it seemed like, and you had the little boy help you get them sorted. 

“I never made a fort before,” RJ smiled up at you. 

“There’s a first time for everything, little man.” You said. 

Judith returned with a jar of kernels, which you hoped would pop. You weren’t sure how long they’d been in the cellar for. The last time you had popcorn was a few years back after some corn didn’t take. 

But, you would try for the two little kids who looked at you like you were their world. 

***

The following week was uneventful. You spoke to Daryl every morning as you agreed. The Kingdom was done for. It was worse than what Ezekiel had been saying. And Carol wasn’t doing well either. 

Lydia was having a hard time, and Daryl thought it would be best if she came here. You’d start preparing a room for her soon. 

It was nice talking to Daryl. His voice was so rough through the radio that it made you wish he was there with you. You had to keep reminding yourself he would be home in a few days' time. They’d be headed to Hilltop, where he would stay a few days and then come home to you. Your bed was too lonely without his massive body, and the room too quiet without his annoying snoring. 

“He’ll be back soon; stop moping around,” Rosita said, handing you a steaming cup of tea as you waited for the kids to get their belongings together. 

“Hopefully, they’ll beat the storm,” Siddiq said. 

“Don’t remind me; I’m worried about them enough as it is.” You said, taking a long sip. “Judith, RJ, hurry up!” You yelled after. 

“Gabriel and Eugene are already at the church getting supplies in, and it’s starting to snow, so we should go now,” Rosita said. 

Both the kids came down with bags on their shoulders and bundled under their clothes. You wrapped a blanket around the youngest and cupped Judith’s face. 

“Come on, babe, we gotta move before the sun sets and the temperature drops,” Rosita said, handing you your jacket. 

You quickly put it on, then slung your bag around your shoulders and opened the front door. 

The cold wind pushed back your hair, and you adjusted the scarf around your neck. It was well below freezing, and you could feel the cold soak into your bones. 

“I miss Georgia winters,” You mumbled, taking RJ’s hand. “Come on, kids.” 

It wasn’t a long walk to the church, and before long you were sitting RJ down by the fire and telling Judith to do the same. With the door fully shut and blankets keeping out any extra air, you dumped your bag down and rubbed your gloved hands together. 

You sipped at your canteen and then glanced over at Negan, who was sitting on his cot and rubbing his hands together. 

He smiled at you when you walked over. “Hi, baby.”

“You really should stop calling me that.” You shoved your hands in your pockets. “If Daryl hears you say that…”

“And I thought you would’ve told him.”

“Not important enough to tell him,” You said and shrugged your shoulders. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you. You haven’t come to see me in a while. How’s the baby?”

You rubbed your hand against your stomach. “Fine, thank you very much. And I’ve been busy. Let me or Gabriel know if you need anything.” 

***

It was getting colder by the minute. Your hands were shaking as you wrapped another blanket around Judith and RJ. “Stay close. I know it’s cold.” You kissed each of their heads and then walked over to Eugene and Rosita. 

There was still tension in the air from Negan being an asshole, and you could see how annoyed Rosita was, especially after the sorrowful news about the fireplace. 

“If we’re going to go to Aaron’s, we really need to move now.” You said, trying to keep yourself from shaking terribly. God, you wished Daryl was here. 

“I agree. The temperature is going to keep dropping.” Eugene said. 

“Alright, we got rope in here, right? Let’s tie us all together in a line so nobody gets lost,” You said. “We’ll keep the kids in the center. Eugene will take the front. Siddiq in the back.” 

Rosita and Eugene both nodded, and you all got to work. You bundled the kids under a blanket each and tied RJ’s hat strings tightly around his head. You did the same with Judith. 

“You two stay on this line no matter what, you got that?” You asked. They both nodded. 

You walked over to Rosita and Gabriel, who were preparing themselves. “Put Negan behind me in the lineup. I don’t trust him behind anyone else but me. You know he won’t hurt me.” You said, zipping your coat all the way up. 

Though you knew they weren’t thrilled, they both agreed. Siddiq came over and handed you another blanket and helped you tie it around you so it wouldn’t come undone. Then he put your bag on your shoulders. 

You found your spot on the line, checked on RJ and Judith, and then Negan behind you before the doors opened. 

The wind was strong enough to push you backward when you stepped outside. Whirls of white spun around you, and the community had that snowing lightness to it. But it was freezing. A type of cold you hadn’t experienced yet. This blizzard was nothing sort of a terrible, new experience in a world of just that. 

It was hard to keep track of anything. You could barely focus on the ground below you and each step. But when you heard Dog barking, your first thought was of Judith. 

“Judith!” You screamed after the little girl. You didn’t hesitate before running after her. 

You heard someone yelling your name but couldn’t see anything through the white haze. But you could hear Dog. 

Then you could hear your name, and suddenly, Negan was limping toward you. 

“We need to find Judith!” You screamed over the wind. 

He nodded, and the two of you pushed forward into the blizzard. It felt like an eternity, like when you lost her in the woods all those months ago. But finally, you saw her near the children’s playground, leashing Dog on a bit of rope. 

“Here!” You yelled, pulling Negan’s arm. When you got to the young girl, you grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever do anything like that ever again!” You yelled, fighting back painful tears. 

“I couldn’t leave him,” She yelled. 

You cupped her red cheeks and looked up at Negan. “You need to carry her. I got Dog.” 

The blizzard fought you every step of the way. It pushed and pulled until you couldn’t feel your face, fingers, or feet. Your boots and gloves were soaked through, and each step felt like you were walking on knives. 

But when you finally saw the glow of Aaron’s house, it gave you enough energy to push Negan forward. 

“(Y/N), Judith!” Rosita yelled as soon as she saw your figures. “Thank God.”

You walked up the icy steps to Aaron’s house, and Rosita ushered you inside. The heat from the fire hit you hard, and you let go of Dog and let Rosita lead you to the couch in front of the fire. 

“Judith,” You called, and the girl walked over to you. She sat beside you, and you wrapped your arm around the half-frozen girl. You called for RJ, who was climbing into your lap before you could even finish saying his name. “Thank God,” You whispered.

Rosita put a blanket over the three of you. “Judith, don’t you ever do that again.” 

“I needed to get Dog,” She said. 

“It’s okay… it’s okay….” You breathed out, still shaking. “Let’s just warm up and get through the storm.” 

[hungergamesbookclub]

Poll for THG Book Club's First Read!

What book should we read for our first Suzanne Read? Summaries of each book and how it relates to THG under the "read more" after the poll if you need more info to choose.

Summary: In Thomas Hardy's first major literary success, independent and spirited Bathsheba Everdene has come to Weatherbury to take up her position as a farmer on the largest estate in the area. Her bold presence draws three very different suitors: the gentleman-farmer Boldwood, the soldier-seducer Sergeant Troy, and the devoted shepherd Gabriel Oak. Each, in contrasting ways, unsettles her decisions and complicates her life, and tragedy ensues, threatening the stability of the whole community. One of his first works set in the semi-fictional region of Wessex, Hardy's novel of swift passion and slow courtship is imbued with his evocative descriptions of rural life and landscapes, and with unflinching honesty about sexual relationships.

Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy

How it relates to THG: "Katniss Everdeen owes her last name to Bathsheba Everdene, the lead character in Far From the Madding Crowd. The two are very different, but both struggle with knowing their hearts." Suzanne Collins, 2010

Summary: Coriolanus is a tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written between 1605 and 1608. The play is based on the life of the legendary Roman leader Caius Marcius Coriolanus.

Coriolanus by William Shakespeare

How it relates to THG: The namesake of Coriolanus Snow (ft. Volumnia)

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

Summary: Mary Shelley's timeless gothic novel presents the epic battle between man and monster at its greatest literary pitch. In trying to create life, the young student Victor Frankenstein unleashes forces beyond his control, setting into motion a long and tragic chain of events that brings Victor to the very brink of madness. How he tries to destroy his creation, as it destroys everything Victor loves, is a powerful story of love, friendship, scientific hubris, and horror.

How it relates to THG: Quoted in the epigraph of TBOSAS

Spartacus by Howard Fast

Summary: The story of a slave uprising in the ancient Roman Empire.

How it relates to THG: "There’s a basis for the war, historically, in the Hunger Games, which would be the third servile war, which was Spartacus’ war, where you have a man who is a slave who is then turned into a gladiator who broke out of the gladiator school and led a rebellion and then became the face of the war. So there is a historical precedent for that arc for a character.  But I think I needed the freedom to create elements that I wasn’t going to neatly find in history." Suzanne Collins, 2013

Summary: A plane crashes on a desert island. The only survivors are a group of schoolboys. By day, they discover fantastic wildlife and dazzling beaches, learning to survive; at night, they are haunted by nightmares of a primitive beast. Orphaned by society, it isn't long before their innocent childhood games devolve into a savage, murderous hunt …

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

How it relates to THG: "One of my favorite books - I read it every couple of years." Suzanne Collins

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 13.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter sort of contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, anxiety attacks, mentions of jungkook trying to unalive himself during the summer, mentions of therapy, explicit content: implied sex

☆word count: 4k

☆a/n: my baby jungkook realizing he was dumb not to tell OC about gabrielle :((( hope you guys enjoy this one!!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been sitting in his car for thirty minutes, looking at the apartment where his love for you grew and died. 

Though he’s been making progress with his therapist, seeing it feels like maybe he’s drowning, and he hasn’t been able to get out of the car despite the fact that he needs to go to the bathroom. He pulls at his piercings, thinking about you. Are you at home, or are you out and about? He thinks you’re probably working, as Taehyung mentioned in passing that you finish work late on Fridays, yet Jungkook isn’t able to move.

Especially not as every treacherous emotion he has for you comes back to haunt him, squeezing his heart in his chest.

He’s been doing better. He’s been trying to cut himself some slack, and to build a healthy distance between him and his family. Though it’s hard, Lisa has helped, and Jungkook will forever be thankful for her friendship.

For her being there on that July night when he almost ended things.

Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. He knows he has to go in - he’d rather not stay in his car and let the engine run while being parked for any longer. Not that he can’t afford the gas - he just thinks it’s a waste and bad for the environment, so he forces himself to turn off the engine.

It takes him a few more minutes to gather the courage to go in, and he waits until he’s literally starting to sweat his ass off before finally opening the door and stepping out of the car. A warm breeze welcomes him, ruffling his hair, and he shuts the door behind him, locking the car over his shoulder as he walks towards the apartment. 

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm down the anxiety that’s threatening to overtake him. He reminds himself that it’s just you - no matter the distance between the two of you, you’re the only person that he’s ever felt understood him like you did.

Not even Lisa gets him like you do.

Yet he doesn’t want the ache and the pain again, not when he’s barely made it out this summer. So climbing the stairs takes everything in him, as does opening the door. But then it’s like the apartment is a quiet haven, and he steps in, the cool air a stark relief from the summer heat outside. He shuts the door, cutting off the scream of a cicada in the distance, and then he’s back in the space where you fell in love, remembering every little moment he spent with you without knowing he was about to lose you.

He feels at peace. He doesn’t know why, or how, but he feels at peace for probably the first time this summer.

“Hello!”

The peace threatens to crumble, your voice echoing in Jungkook’s mind as a short silence follows. He holds on to the peace, refuses to let it go, and then you speak again.

“Do you need any help?”

He does. He needs you, again, always, yet he knows it’s over. Knows he has to prepare himself for your presence in his line of vision - you appear a few seconds later, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen.

You’re beautiful. Your hair is longer, your skin sun-kissed, and your cheeks have a slight pink dust to them that reminds him of how much he used to love teasing you, just so that he can see that blush. Your eyes widen, yet they aren’t as pained as they’d been the last time he’d seen you.

Like maybe the time apart has healed you, too.

Jungkook takes in the sight of you, lets his heart try to rise to panic in his chest. But he doesn’t listen to the panic, only breathes in and out until the wave has passed. 

“Y/n,” he says, murmurs, and he hates that he wanted to call you peach, like your real name feels wrong in his mouth somehow.

“Jungkook,” you reply.

Your voice… His memory did not do it justice at all, and the pain comes crashing back, a tsunami that almost makes Jungkook stumble back. But he holds on strong, a rock against the wave.

He nods once, taking off his shoes if only so that you can’t see the pain in his eyes anymore. You don’t move, and he feels your gaze on him the whole time, so much so that, when he straightens, he can’t help but ask, “How are you?”

Your gaze widens a little more, if that’s possible. “I’m okay.” You nod once. “How are you?”

Good. Bad. Horrible. I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry.

All answers he can’t give you, so he settles on, “I’m chill.”

He needs to go. Needs to not be looking at you anymore lest he does something stupid, like run up to you and hold on to you. He’d never let you go, and the sadness that slowly invades your gaze breaks him too much, like suddenly the ending came back to your mind.

Came back to his too, and the guilt chokes his lungs, so much so that he starts walking to his room.

But then he stops, catching sight of something familiar on the kitchen table, and the pain recedes, replaced by the peace that welcomed him home. 

You’re eating Buldak noodles. You, who couldn’t stand heat last semester, are eating the noodles he used to make for you. It warms his chest, reminds him that not everything ended then, and he smiles softly.

“Want something to eat?” you ask.

It hurts. Far more than it should - he doesn’t deserve your kindness. And even though he wants to, even though he wishes he could pick up the pieces of you and him, he forces himself to say, “Thanks, but I gotta unpack.”

And then he walks the rest of the way to his room, his heart rate skyrocketing in his chest - he thinks he might go into cardiac arrest. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, yet he can’t move. He’s frozen there, feeling your eyes on him, wishing he could turn around and tell you that he spent every day this summer wishing he could rewind time and save you both the heartbreak. But he’s a coward, and he can’t say it, so he finishes walking into his room and closes the door behind himself.

He leans against it as panic wins once again, and he slowly slides to the ground, trying to focus on his breathing. On the grounding techniques his therapist taught him, and a few minutes later, he’s able to dampen his panic, his anxiety, until he’s able to breathe normally again.

If that’s how this semester is going to be, he has no clue how he’ll survive.

*****

Jungkook is nervous. He doesn’t know why he suggested to hang out with Lisa while everyone is going to a party at some frat he does not care about.

Actually, he does know why. His therapist suggested that he should try talking to other people, and he hasn’t been able to approach anyone, his feelings for you still as strong as ever, so Lisa it is.

She’s sweet. She’s been there for him through hell this summer, and some part of him feels like he owes her something. So when she asked if that was a date, Jungkook said they could try this one time and see where it goes. Lisa seemed unsure - she’s started talking to Mingyu more, and though they haven’t hung out just the two of them yet, Jungkook thinks it might be coming soon.

So maybe that, more than anything, is the reason why he asked Lisa, and not someone else. Because he knows that, despite the fact that she used to have feelings for him, it’s been morphing into friendship more than anything now, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Still, he worries. Still, he’s nervous. Because it’s not you, and though Lisa is a good friend, he doesn’t feel like he can fully be himself when it comes to her. Not like he could be with you, and though his therapist said he shouldn’t compare, he can’t help himself.

No one is ever going to compare to you.

Jungkook breathes in and out, wipes his hands on his pants, and then Lisa is arriving, and he remembers that she’s just a friend. That he has nothing to worry about when it comes to her.

When she asks him if she can kiss him, Jungkook doesn’t find it in him to say no. She kisses him all wrong, yet it’s been months. It’s been months and he should be moving on - you clearly have been. Your absence in the apartment, in his life, is proof of it. So he kisses Lisa back, tries to tell himself that it makes his heart race in his chest like kissing you does.

He hasn’t had sex since you, and it shows. He’s messy, unpracticed, and halfway through he realizes that he wants you. He wants to be with you, wants to hold you. Lisa notices his unease, notices he can’t stay hard, and she cups his cheeks and says, “We can stop, JK.”

He could cry. He could cry as he pulls out, and says, “I’m sorry.”

She smiles gently. “It’s okay, Jungkook. Don’t apologize, I get it.”

She gets up, throws his t-shirt on and Jungkook hates the way that it looks on her - it looked a lot better on you. While she goes to the bathroom, he tries to keep his panic at bay, to remind himself that he did nothing wrong tonight.

That no matter how much he loves you, he has to at least try and move on.

But then the impossible happens. The front door opens, and before you even speak, Jungkook knows it’s you. He hates it - hates that you had to come here tonight, to witness his weakness, and he quickly puts a pair of grey sweatpants on before walking out of his room.

You’re out of breath, yet you’re as beautiful as ever. Even more so, if only because you’re here, in the apartment where you belong, so close to him he could touch you with just a few steps forward.

“Y/n?” Jungkook lets out.

You were bent over, and you straighten, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes are shining with emotion, and Jungkook breaks. He breaks again, always - he doesn’t deserve you looking at him like this right now.

“Jungkook,” you say in between two heaving breaths.

Frowning, Jungkook scans your features. He tries to understand why you’re here tonight, why you’re looking at him like maybe he hung the stars in your night sky. You’re smiling, and he looks at that too, lets it remind him of why he fell in love with you in the first place.

“Shit,” you let out. “Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You start laughing, and Jungkook is far too confused. It’s like he stepped in an absurd movie, and he’s not in on the joke. Especially not as he knows Lisa is bound to step out of the bathroom eventually.

“She told me,” you say.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gabrielle told me everything.” 

You’re blinking back tears, and Jungkook keeps on shattering. Because now that the truth is out you’re back, and he realizes maybe he should have listened to Gabrielle. Maybe he should have told you, if only for you not to be here tonight.

“Kook?”

It’s the heartbreak in the nickname. Jungkook’s heart stops beating in his chest, and he feels like someone’s banging on his skull, telling him how stupid he is.

“Y/n, I…” he trails off. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

He sees the moment you realize. You look down, see Lisa’s shoes, and you freeze. You fully freeze, and it looks like you’re not even breathing anymore. Lisa chooses this moment to step out of the bathroom, and it takes you a few seconds before glancing at her.

“Oh.”

There is so much pain in that word alone that Jungkook wants to die. He reckons, he should have died that night just so that he could avoid this heartbreak for you. And he hates himself so, so much for inviting Lisa over tonight. For not waiting just a little longer.

What would have happened if Lisa wasn’t here tonight?

“Hey, Y/n,” Lisa says awkwardly, her eyes darting to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were here.”

For a moment, Jungkook wants to scream at her. To tell her that she should have just stayed in the bathroom, should have just climbed out the window. But he’s mute, unable to form a single syllable.

“I live here,” you reply.

Lisa senses the pain in your voice. She clearly does, because she looks uncomfortable as all hell, like she wants to disappear through the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I…” she trails off. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”

There’s an awkward silence - Jungkook is convinced he can hear your heart breaking, though that might just be his. Then you say, “No worries.”

You take a deep breath, and Jungkook looks at your profile. Tries to commit you to memory, because he knows you’re going to leave again. He still can’t speak - he wants to beg you to stay, but there’s a lump in his throat and water in his lungs, and all he can do is watch you.

You pat your pockets, tears pooling in your gaze. “I think I forgot my keys at the party.”

When you meet Jungkook’s gaze, he sees a mirror in your eyes. Sees himself breaking, sees you breaking, and he wants it all to stop. He wants to forget the pain, wants to be able to tell you he loves you and that he’s sorry. But he feels like words wouldn’t be enough, not right now, and he remains silent.

Not that he could speak anyway.

“How did you…” Lisa trails off, but she doesn’t finish.

You turn around then, walking back outside and shutting the door carefully behind you. Jungkook just stays there, unable to move, not when he’s breaking all over again. He wants to run after you, but all he can do is take a shuddering breath in, right as a tear rolls down his cheek.

“Shit.”

Lisa crosses the space between the two of them. “Go sit on your bed.”

Jungkook tries to breathe, but his throat constricts, and black dots flash in his vision.

“Fuck.”

“Jungkook, deep breaths,” Lisa says, and she tugs on his hand to pull him to his bed. 

“I can’t…” he trails, trying to breathe, but it’s like he’s breathing pure nitrogen. “I can’t breathe.”

He sits on his bed, and Lisa stands next to him. “What colour is the light?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know - did he truly lose you again? He’s dumb, stupid, foolish. An asshole and everything in between.

He’s a fucking coward.

“Jungkook, what colour is the light?” Lisa says again.

“I don’t know…”

“You do,” she insists, and the firm inflection of her tone makes Jungkook look up at her. “You do, Jungkook, just tell me.”

He glances at the ceiling. “Red.”

Lisa nods encouragingly. “Now, tell me one thing you can touch.”

He frowns, though his hands drop to the cover of his bed. “My bed.”

“Yes.” She glances around. “Something you can smell?”

The frown deepens. “I can’t really smell anything, my nose is blocked.”

She offers him a small smile, and Jungkook looks at it curiously. And then he realizes he can breathe again, and oxygen rushes to his lungs.

“Holy shit,” he curses. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lisa says. “I got you.”

She sits next to him, and there’s a silence while Jungkook contemplates his throbbing heart. He wonders if you’re aching too - he hopes you don’t have anxiety attacks like he does. Though, to be fair, this is the first he’s had in a few weeks.

He takes a deep breath, and then he glances at Lisa. “What am I supposed to do?”

Though the anxiety has passed, his eyes fill with tears, and Lisa watches him carefully for a few seconds. There’s a flash of hurt in her gaze, but Jungkook thinks he might have imagined it.

“Talk to her,” she says. “Text her that you want to talk to her.”

“She saw you…” Jungkook whispers.

Lisa sighs. “She did.”

“How am I supposed to justify that?”

Lisa doesn’t reply right away, and Jungkook holds her gaze. He sees it - the hurt flashes so bright he can’t say he imagines it, and he gulps.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“Listen, Jungkook,” Lisa carefully says. “I… I’m happy I’ve been there for you in the last few months. But tonight… I think we both agree it was a mistake. And I wish I could help you still, but I think right now I also need to think about myself.” She looks away, and silver lines her gaze. “I’ve always known we weren’t going to happen. You just took me by surprise by asking to hang out tonight. But I think it’s best if I take my distance from you.”

Guilt - new guilt - crushes Jungkook, and all he can do is nod his head. And he agrees with her anyway.

He wouldn’t be able to hang out with her anymore.

“So I don’t know how you can justify that to Y/n,” she adds. “I really don’t know, but I think you guys need to talk.” She meets Jungkook’s gaze, smiling sadly. “And I really hope things go well for the two of you.”

“Liz…” 

She offers him a single, small nod. “It’s okay, JK. I just want you to be happy.” She chuckles, and then she wipes at her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now.”

“No, don’t be,” Jungkook immediately reassures her. “I…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, not really knowing what he was going to say.

“We can still be friends,” she says. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

Jungkook nods. “Okay. Yes, of course we can still be friends.”

Lisa smiles again before looking down at herself. “Well, I better get dressed.”

All Jungkook can do is nod again, and he watches as she picks up her clothes and then heads to the bathroom. 

In the meantime, Jungkook grabs his phone and goes to the messages. He finds your conversation, clicks on it, and prepares to type a message.

But he can’t figure out what to say. He just stares at his phone, panic threatening to overcome his senses again, and then he shuts it off, tossing it to the side as Lisa walks out of the bathroom.

Even a little later, when Lisa has left to head home, Jungkook still doesn’t know what to say. So he texts his therapist, asks if they can have an appointment tomorrow, and then he puts some anime on, hoping that it’ll chase the heartbreak from his chest.

It doesn’t, and he falls asleep to the sound of Tanjiro fighting a demon, only to be woken up when Ariane and Taehyung come back home in the middle of the night.

Read chapter 13 here!

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( i promise the angst is slowly getting resolved! even if it doesn't seem like it rn :')

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

WIP Intro : La gloire des femmes en deuil

Title : La gloire des femmes en deuil

Genre : urban fantasy

Status : first draft

Target wordcount : 50k+ (I don’t actually know how long this thing is going to be, but knowing myself, it’s going to be longer than that)

Actual wordcount : 0

TW : blood, violence, misogyny

Synopsis :

Eve Mastema Dupuis lives a quiet life in the town of Diciennes: she runs her magic store “Herbes et Miroirs” and sees her brother twice a week, and her grandmothers and the rest of her siblings once a month. She doesn't need much more, really. And who cares if she's the eldest Dupuis and still doesn't have her own garnet mine or celestial orchard? Who cares if the parental circle regularly forgets her existence? She's long since made her peace with it. And she's far too busy trying to get a mysterious woman out of a mirror and finding a solution to her failing magic to care what the Cercle Dupuis Major thinks of her. Maxime, unfortunately, doesn't share her feelings. He doesn't fit in Diciennes or its Academy the way he does in their hometown, not the way he'd like, and having given up their name, even for a few years, for his education makes him resentful. He is a Dupuis. Worse, he is the first Dupuis son, and he is used to everything falling into his lap. So when his parents promise him his mine and orchard if he comes home, he begs his sister to go with him. Eve has promised herself she'll never return to Meluya for more than a weekend, convinced that she could never escape and would end up dying in their hometown if she gave up the life she'd fought for. But Eve has loyalty in her blood. If her siblings call, she'll answer. She just hopes she can change their minds before she has to make a decision as drastic as returning to Meluya…

Settings : a magical shop (or two) ; a cottage at the edge of the woods ; a cold house ; a small town ; a gothic manor

Characters:

Eve Mastema Dupuis || [30] || lesbian || witch || suffers from crippling loneliness ; loyal ; fucked up magic ; knowledge is power (but you know nothing, Jon Snow…)

Capucine Mastema Dupuis || [15] || witch || the one with the braincell ; friendly ; ruthless

Maxime Dupuis || [25] || homosexual || filius nomine || heir of the Dupuis’ family ; indecisive ; loyal ; proud

Théo Dupuis || [24] || bisexual || secundo heres || malewife ; magical librarian ; ready to thow hands anytime

Gabrielle Phenex Dulac || [24] || bisexual || witch || can’t believe she married a Dupuis ; done with everything ; this close to just running away from this town

Other characters include several 4 grandmothers with their own issues, the parental circle (TW), Capu’s friends, a woman trapped in a mirror, a swamp monster, a scarred woman and the moon.

More about the world : magic is a strange, volatile things and to controle it, it's best to unite several magical families in a single Circle. Women, for some reason, are born less often than men, which means that each Circle only has a single woman for two or three men (or even more, if the main family is powerful enough). Eve parental Circle (Cercle Dupuis Majeur) is composed of three fathers and one mother, but none of them have any interest in her life. Out of all her siblings, only Théo has his own Circle, with Gabrielle Phenex Dulac, but theyr are mourning the third member of their Circle. They have four grandmothers, two of which do not have a Circle anymore. The magical world is still separate from the human world, with entire city blocks dedicated to magical users in big cities like Diciennes, and magical-folks-only towns like Meluya.

[PLAYLIST] [PINTEREST BOARD] [GENERAL TAG]

This story is (probably) going to be my NaNo project this year and one of my main subject for Sapphic September!

[aria-ashryver]

Chapter 41 (Snow In Crimson) (<-aahh prophecy title!!) of snow in crimson, starlight in gold is now up on AO3!

A/N: Lord. IDEK what to say about this one. 14k words but I didn't split it into a 2-parter this time, bc like. Once that ball got rolling, it needed to continue to roll. Stuff HAPPENS this chapter lol. I need to sit down. I am sitting down but I need to sit down more. I need advanced Bethesda style clipping into the ground sitting down.

Book: Immortal Desires Pairings: m!Cas x m!Gabriel x nb!MC (Luca O'Rinn) Rating/ Warnings: Explicit (overall rating), Violence (please note tags for full list of TW/CWs) Words: Longfic (ongoing), currently 311K words as at Ch 41

Summary:

CH41- Hic mortui vivunt...

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @lilyoffandoms @stars-are-within-me

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 96: There's No Place Like Home

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: language, violence ❧ Word Count: 5.6k

❧ In This Chapter: You've finally returned to Alexandria, but it isn't all sunshine and rainbows. The Commonwealth has taken over, and it will take some sweat, blood, and tears to get it back. Emphasis on the blood.

❧ A/N: Happy New Year! And man, we don't have very many chapters of this series left... I am hoping it will end at Chapter 100 (nice, satisfying number), but we will see how well that works out. I am hoping to also include some sm*t before the end... Just for old time's sake. Lots of exciting stuff coming up. By the way, please ignore the fact that in the show, it is snowing during the windmill scene. Idk what the writers were thinking, but they clearly fucked up the timeline because in the show, there is a Halloween event (which is obviously in October), and then it cuts to 6 months later, so there's a six month time jump, and that means that all this should technically be happening in APRIL, and it doesn't snow in April so I am just imagining it's April for my own sanity ok? And because I want Wes to be an Aries thanks.

You had watched through Daryl’s binoculars, sitting idly by as Negan struggled against the Commonwealth soldiers that tackled him. You were home now, on the outskirts of Alexandria, but security was high, and brutal. 

You didn’t much care for Negan getting beaten, you had to admit. Some old wounds would never heal, and as much as you tried to reserve sympathy for him, it was difficult. What worried you, however, was Ezekiel, Nabila, Princess, Kelly, Connie, Magna, even Negan’s wife, Annie. What worried you most, of course, were the children. 

The town had been turned into what you could only describe as a labor camp, with a redheaded man in a dark grey coat barking orders to exhausted workers as soldiers stood by menacingly with their rifles in hand. You didn’t see the children. Wherever they were, it couldn’t be much better than this. 

You and Daryl met back up with the others, further outside the walls, where you couldn’t be seen by the guards. 

Maggie was disturbed by the news, and even more disturbed to hear that the children were nowhere to be seen from yours and Daryl’s vantage point. “But they have to be there, right?” 

You met her gaze, releasing a heavy sigh. You were about to speak before Rosita spoke for you. “Okay, we need to go in now.”

“We can’t,” replied Daryl. “There’s too many guards. We’ll never make it.”

“So, she turned our home into a prison,��� said Gabriel. “After promising to give it back.”

“She never planned to give it back,” said Maggie. 

“Wait,” you said, an idea suddenly coming to you. “The sewers, we can go in through the sewers, right?” You lifted your gaze to meet Daryl’s, who seemed to follow your line of thinking. “Like before, when the Saviors attacked. You escaped through the sewers.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Good idea. You and me, down shit tunnel.”

How romantic. 

The group split, with Maggie and Carol taking the south sewer, you and Daryl taking the north. Gabriel and Rosita stayed on lookout outside the walls, much to Rosita’s dismay. You understood that—she wanted to get to her baby as soon as possible, so did you. 

So you told her that if you got to the kids first, you’d be sure to check in on Coco, to make sure she was safe and healthy. It wasn’t much, but it was all you could do. 

Daryl climbed down first, shining his flashlight down on the tunnel floor. It always made you nervous, watching him go first into dangerous situations. Still, he always insisted.

“Be careful!” you whisper-yelled down to him, yourself shining your own light on his hands as they moved down the rungs of the ladder. “Watch out for walkers.” As much as you trusted Daryl to be smart, you were always going to worry about him a little too much. 

“Shh!” He held his finger over his pursed lips, then let go of the last rung to drop feet first on the ground. He held up his hands to beckon you. “C’mon!” he whisper-yelled back. “Ain’t got all day.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned to climb down. “What’s it like down there?”

“Smells like shit.”

You stepped on the fifth rung down, now catching a whiff of said shit. “Besides that.”

“Dark and wet.”

You gave up asking by the time you got down, but now you could see it for yourself. Indeed, it was dark, wet, and it did smell like shit. 

“This way,” said Daryl, pointing towards the beam of the flashlight that illuminated the tunnel. l. “I’ll go first, stay behind me.” 

You ignored him, walking alongside him instead. 

He huffed, shining his light just below your face. “You never listen ta me,” he said. 

You tilted your head and made a sour face. “And you always baby me.”

“Pfft…” Well, he wasn’t going to deny it. He did baby you, but it was for a good cause. “Jus’ be careful.”

The two of you silently stalked the length of the tunnel for a while, until you stumbled upon an overgrown maze of leafy vines hanging from the sewer grate just overhead. Entangled in those vines was a walker, flailing its arms and growling as the two of you approached with your flashlights trained on its rotting face. 

“How the hell did it get down here?” you asked. 

Daryl spared no time, bending over to begin clearing out the overgrowth with a series of grunts. You followed his lead to help make a path. “Musta found its way in ‘ere somehow. Got all tangled up.”

The walker’s sounds got louder the closer Daryl got, until his knife plunged into its head, ending its growling and flailing. He shined his light further, making sure that was the only one. “S’all clear now,” he said. “Come on, this way.”

You trudged through the brush, grabbing Daryl’s hand when he lent it to you. The path was still not quite stable, though, and a wrong step between the branches caught the toe of your boot, causing you to stumble. 

Daryl’s grasp tightened, with his other hand grabbing your other wrist to keep you steady. You didn’t fall, but you stumbled enough for a flash of white to cascade from your coat pocket. All you had in there was your photo, as you always kept at least one with you. 

“Oh, no.” 

You turned to frantically search through the leaves, while Daryl looked on in confusion as he held his flashlight with the beam concentrated on your hands. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just…” You found the polaroid nestled among a few leaves, and you sighed in relief. “Thank God.”

You turned the photograph over in your hands, revealing the face of your daughter. She smiled wide, with Dog posed beside her as her arm wrapped around his neck. That photo was an older one, taken a few summers ago. Robin wore her favorite white linen overalls, decorated with daisies lovingly embroidered by you, and her floppy brown gardening hat. Even Dog sported a yellow bandana tied loosely around his neck, with his tongue hanging out to the side as his mouth humorously curled into a wide grin. 

Robin’s eyes looked so blue here, like two little sapphires shining between caramel colored bangs that hung a little too low on her forehead. You remembered trimming them not too long after you took that photo. 

You slathered her exposed skin in sunblock that day, making sure she didn’t get any burns. Her skin was sensitive, like yours. She burnt easily, but when she rubbed her eyes that day, the sunblock seeped in, irritating her. She came up to Daryl crying, her fists balled up in her eyes as she rubbed them in an attempt to get the sunblock out. You were bringing out the lemonade, and Daryl dropped his hot dogs to see what was wrong with the little girl. The poor thing sobbed so much she couldn’t make out any words, and you came out onto the front porch to see Daryl in a parental panic, Robin bawling her eyes out, and Dog feasting on sausages. 

At least you had gotten that photograph before all Hell broke loose. You had managed to get your two children to sit upon the porch of your home in Alexandria, taking a break from playing in the unforgiving midsummer heat of Virginia. It was nothing compared to Georgia, Daryl always reminded you, but it was all Robin had ever known, until you left. 

We never should’ve left. 

“Hon?”

You sniffled, holding back a few tears. After all these years, you still couldn’t stop yourself from crying. Everyone else had gotten so good at it, it seemed. Sometimes, you wondered if you had gotten even more sensitive. 

“It’s… I forgot I put this in my pocket.” You chuckled slightly under your breath, just now noticing how filthy Dog’s paws were from digging holes and trying to catch gophers. “Sorry.”

You reached down to return the photograph to its home, but Daryl’s hand stopped you, gently holding your wrist. “Let me see.”

With another sniffle, you held it out to him, and he took it in his own hands. “She was so little,” he said, his lips quirking into the slightest crooked smile. “Even Dog looks younger.”

“They’re precious,” you said, your voice beginning to falter. “I wish… I wish I’d taken one of Wes before we left.”

He looked up to study your face, now with one tear running down your cheek. You quickly brushed it away, sniffling again. 

“We should keep going,” you said. 

“Wait a sec.”

Odd. Daryl was usually the impatient one of the two of you, and though neither of you wanted to spend more time in this stinking hole, Daryl couldn’t go on with you like this. He didn’t have to ask. He knew what it was.

“We’ll find ‘em,” he said. “We will.” As he held out the photograph to hand it back to you, he cupped your hand over his, as if Robin’s portrait was protected by both of you. Well, it was. She was, so was Wes. 

“H-how do you know?”

His eyes softened in the way they only could for you, his angel. “I just do.” He let your hand go, so you tucked your photo back into your pocket. When your eyes looked back up at him, he rested a hand on the spot where your neck met your shoulder. His thumb reached up to rub your cheek, where his touch warmed you. 

“Dad instincts,” he added with a smile, much to your amusement. A small chuckle erupted from you, but it was bittersweet. 

“You’re such a good dad.”

He could feel himself beginning to choke up, your emotions and your words overwhelming him, too. The empathy link between you and him was always strong, to the point that your hurt was his hurt, and vice versa. Not only that, but he was terrified, too. Still, one of you had to be strong for the other now. 

“And you’re a great mom.”

“No,” you said, though you leaned into his touch. “I tried… I tried not to let them take them away.” Guilt washed over you then, and he could feel it, like it was flowing from your body into his from the point where his hand touched your cheek. 

He pulled you in, against his body. His arms formed a protective barrier around you, as they always did. His pride was in keeping you safe, like you were entrusted to him forever. It was a great responsibility to protect the most precious thing in the world, to love her and make her happy as much as he could, but he was never one to give up easily. Besides, loving you was easy. It came naturally to him. 

“I know.” He let his chin rest upon your head, while his hands smoothed over the ripples in your coat on your back. “I know you wouldn’t just let ‘em get taken. You did what ya could.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Hey, I lost the kids, too. They jumped us. Hell, you just had a baby. You weren’t in any condition to fight back, you know that.”

He pulled back, but you still looked down. His hand came up to hold your chin, lifting it until you were forced to face him. Your eyes were weighed down by tears tugging at your waterline, threatening to trickle down your reddened cheeks. Your lips quivered slightly as you tried to hold it together, for him. He was always so strong for you, you had to try to be strong for him, too, even if he had strength for the both of you.

“If we… lose them—”

“Stop it.”

“But we could—”

“No.” Both hands held your cheeks again, this time with more pressure. Not too much, but just enough to let you know he was serious. “Listen to me. There ain’t no damn use in thinkin’ about what might happen or what might be happenin’. All we gotta think about right now is how we’re gonna find ‘em, and what we gotta do to find ‘em. I know you ain’t ever gonna stop worryin’, ‘cause that’s just who you are, and I love you, but you gotta trust me.”

You gotta trust me stuck with you.

“I trust you… Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, angel.”

You held him back, squeezing him as hard as you could, like a human stress ball. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

He took advantage of the space where your neck was exposed to leave a small kiss there. “I love you, too… And when all this is over, I’m takin’ you somewhere nice.”

You turned to face him with a weak chuckle as you wiped away the last of your tears. “What?”

“Like a vacation.”

Sometimes, Daryl surprised you. It was a rare occurrence, since Daryl was always rather predictable, which you liked, but there were times like these where his impulsiveness would come out, perhaps just to distract you momentarily from your worries. He knew exactly how to do so. 

“A vacation?” you asked. “There’s no such thing. You used to say that vacations were impossible now.”

“Yeah, but… What if we just get on the bike and go? Ain’t gotta be far, just a little ways away, just you and me.”

You shook your head in playful dismay. “Daryl Dixon,” you said, “you seem to be forgetting that we have no less than four children we are currently responsible for, two of which are our children, one of which is a baby.”

“Well, we wouldn’t be gone long… And we could wait till Wes is older, when everythin’ calms down. Maybe things will be better again, like they were before.” He studied his surroundings, the dark tunnel in which you were standing, which wreaked of putrid musk. “Now let's get outta this shithole, and get our kids back.”

By the time you raised the sewer grate, stepping out clandestinely inside the walls of Alexandria, it was dark. With only two flashlights to lead the way, you immediately recognized where you were. It was the middle of Morgan Street, your street. 

It was empty, though, too empty for comfort. 

“Where is everybody?” you whispered. “The guards…” You trailed off as the beam of light you held in your hand illuminated a distant house, its windows dark inside and the familiar rose bushes you had once kept so meticulously pruned were gone, ripped from the recently tilled dirt that once housed their roots. “Daryl.”

He turned to follow your eye line, and sadness welled within him like a tidal wave. The house was repaired to some extent, but it looked so different now. It looked dreary, empty. The home he’d made with you was no longer boisterous and full of life. 

He could still hear the patter of Robin’s little feet upon the hardwood floor as Dog chased her. 

He could still smell your potpourri experiments, cloves and oranges and magnolias and lavender and rose and whatever else you could get your hands on. 

He could still feel your weight leaning into his chest as he held you, sitting upon the couch as a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace, keeping you both warm into the wee hours of the morning, when he’d more often than not carry you upstairs to your bed. 

He could still remember watching Robin help Lydia with her homework, the girls’ hushed voices concentrating on their assignments as you looked on proudly.

So many memories in that house, so many voices had been carried in its walls. Voices of people long past… Old friends no longer here to see what this place has become, for better or for worse. 

What was once home was now just some house. 

Wordless sadness floated aimlessly between the two of you, but sadness didn’t get things done. Persistence did, and you were both persistent in your search for the children.

You didn’t have to slink around long before you saw it—in the center of town, just in front of the windmill, a small army of Commonwealth guards had gathered, along with what seemed to be all the prisoners. From the looks of things, they’d been woken up, taken by force to the square. 

Unfamiliar light posts had sprouted on either sides of the crops, spewing harsh, cold lights to illuminate the scene. The place was grey, sterile, a far cry from your memories. Alexandria had once been a bright, colorful place. It had once been a collage of eras, memories and moments in time that defined the settlement’s journey. 

There were the suburban townhouses and model homes from the old world, then the corrugated fence that kept out the dead, marking the beginning of the new world. When the fence was expanded, Alexandria grew, encompassing more land to build. Bare bones buildings put together with the most basic, yet sturdy, of materials dotted the place, giving it that craftsman charm you always admired. Nothing looked perfect, it was always built by hand, trial and error. The windmill you now gazed at was the biggest landmark. The majesty of it symbolized to you human innovation in the face of stagnation.

Now, it was covered in blood.

What shocked you more was the line of guards that stood with their guns held high, aiming to shoot at the people you knew—Ezekiel, Nabila, Princess, Magna, Connie, Kelly, Negan, Annie… 

They were making a stand. Of course they were. They were your people, and that’s what your people had always done. 

Ezekiel stood before them all, his arms outstretched in a gesture of protection. He spoke loudly, his voice reverberating in the night. “You don’t have to do this! This world is broken, but we don’t have to be!”

At the end of the firing line stood the red-haired man in the dark grey coat you’d seen earlier. He was in charge, you gathered, and he was the one who wanted your people dead. 

You noticed a movement in the firing squad, a soldier stepping out of line. The others lowered their weapons to see what was happening, as the soldier who stepped away raised his. 

He aimed for the man in charge, much to your shock. When another soldier attempted to shoot him, he shot back. 

The red-haired man scurried in a panic, grabbing poor Kelly as he held a pistol to her head, walking backwards as if to eventually make a run for it. 

“No!” shouted Magna. “Kelly! Kelly!”

The others held her back, as there wasn’t much to be done. If she moved, he’d kill Kelly. Luckily for you, you were behind him, wrapped around the other side of the windmill, and he was only inching closer. 

Daryl moved faster than you this time, procuring his knife as he moved past you, towards the man as he backed up into the darkness in which you were hiding. You were right behind him, your knife drawn, too, just in case.

You didn’t need it, of course. Daryl always aimed just right, plunging the blade into the base of the man’s neck where his spinal cord met his brain. He did it so coolly, with no emotion behind his eyes. You always knew that something shifted whenever Daryl went into that mode—he’d turn off his feelings for a split second, turn off any parts of him that might object to murder. What prevailed in those moments was his sense of justice, revenge, and order. If there was anything Daryl could do, it was kill.

Silence strangled out all the sounds of panic that began to fade. The man fell immediately after Daryl’s stab, no doubt losing all ability for his head to control his body. Kelly was embraced by her sister, and now you both stood before the others in a bittersweet reunion. 

Out in the crowd of other prisoners, there was no objection to the end of the tyrant’s rule. Even the other guards stood down, seemingly returning Alexandria to the people. 

But the taskmaster hadn’t been killed, not yet. Daryl had only paralyzed him, and he was on his way out, but he was still alive. Negan came forward, picking up the man by his jacket collar and dragging him out towards the crowd. He picked up a rock large enough to hold with two hands, and just before he struck him with the final blow to end the man’s misery, a voice called out.

“Negan!” Rosita burst forward as Gabriel flipped the man till he was facing up. “Don’t kill him!” she shouted. 

“Where’s my daughter?” She leaned over the man, grasping his collar as she yelled, “Where is she?!”

There was an unmistakable quiver in her voice, a kind of desperation and rage that only a mother looking for her child could have. He didn’t answer, not that you heard from the distance you stood, anyway. 

What you did hear, though, was the unmistakable wheezing and growling of a walker. Your head pivoted like a finely tuned machine, your hand instinctively grasping for the handle of your knife. The soldier that had been shot had turned, and the walker was slowly but surely rising to his feet. 

Rosita was faster, though. She tugged on the walker’s uniform, pulling him towards the nearly lifeless man’s body with a wild groan. 

She held the snapping, starving walker to the man’s face, shouting again, “Where the hell is she?! Tell me where she is!”

You could only look on, somewhere between understanding and horror. It sent a shiver down your spine—she hadn’t been able to find Coco, what if Robin and Wes weren’t there either?

Frozen in your fear, you only heard the red-haired man faintly say one phrase to Rosita. “You will lose everything.”

Just then, she dropped the walker, letting its teeth sink into the man’s face. “No! No! Ahh!”

Before you looked away, you saw the bright red flesh tearing away as the walker dined on his eye socket. No one made a move, not wanting to disturb the creature’s feast. It would have to be put down, but not only the man was made to suffer. 

You didn’t care now, though. With the man still screaming, you turned swiftly, only your children’s safety on your mind. 

“(Y/N)!” Daryl followed after you, his breath heavy as he tried to keep up.

“Not my babies,” was all you could reply, panting as you ran towards the nearest house, ready to raid each and every one. 

The townhouse you chose to search first looked lived-in with candlelight glowing in the window of the second floor. You hurried up the steps of the porch, knife drawn and ready to kill if anyone got between you and the children. 

Of course, Daryl tried to go in front of you, but, in an unusual display of roughness, you pushed him away with more force than he’d ever known you to have. You looked at him with wild, electric eyes, your hair falling out of your hat in an untamed mess. You didn’t have to say anything, he knew what you meant to say: I’m fucking going first. 

So you did, kicking open the front door with a grand crash. It was a far cry from your usual more subtle, quiet approach, but there wasn’t going to be any stopping you now. The soldier that almost immediately greeted you was caught off guard when your knife slit his forearm where the armor wasn’t covering. It caused him to drop his gun while you slit his thigh, sending him writhing in pain on the floor. 

It happened so fast that you lost conscious thought of the things you were doing, but Daryl watched your every move, making sure you didn’t make a wrong move. You quickly armed yourself with the soldier’s gun, wielding it as you inspected each room on the first floor, each empty. 

You huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair away from your face. Then, you heard what sounded like muffled, higher-pitched voices coming from the floor above. They were children’s voices, you knew that for sure. 

As you ran through the hallway, jumping over the writhing soldier to flee up the stairs, you began to hear the wailing of a baby. Warm tears flooded your vision, but you were steadfast in your search. You used your back to throw the first door open, holding the gun ready. 

When you laid your determined eyes on an eleven-year-old girl with long brown hair, they softened immediately. 

“Aunt (Y/N)!” Judith ran to you across the room. Her arms outstretched to hug you, so you dropped the gun and leaned down to receive her. 

You peered over her shoulder to see more familiar children—Nabila and Jerry’s kids, whose names you admittedly lost track of at times, were among them, with more you recognized from the Commonwealth. And, of course, RJ was in Daryl’s arms, but the reunion couldn’t last too long—Robin and Wes weren’t here, and the crying had stopped. 

“Judith,” you said, both sternly and with a tremble in your voice. “Where’s Robin and the baby?”

The crying began again, coming distinctly from across the hall. This time, Daryl moved first, knife drawn to slam through the door of the room where the crying came from. 

You followed behind, peering over his shoulder to see light brown-haired girl, cowering in the corner of the room and facing the wall, rocking back and forth with a bundle of something in her arms. You knew the back of her head anywhere, the shape of her little body. Her hair was tied in a low half-ponytail, and her knitted sweater of seafoam green was unquestionably the garment of your daughter. 

“Robin!” Daryl shouted out. 

She turned immediately, her face red and puffy from crying. Westley, bundled up in a sloppy swaddle, flailed his limbs and wailed in her arms. She must’ve been trying to keep him quiet, having heard the scary noises downstairs. 

“Daddy?!” she called out in confusion. “Mama!”

She lifted herself to her feet, still clinging to her infant brother, as you came forward, arms ready to snatch her up and never let her go. 

You couldn’t form words as you held her and the baby, all you could was cry tears of joy and relief. But, out of fear of squishing Wes, you loosened your hold on the child for a moment to delicately take the infant into your embrace. 

“He won’t stop cryin’,” she said with a sniffle of her own. “I was so scared, I thought…”

Daryl leaned down to hold her, and she lost of train of thought when she plummeted her head between his neck and shoulder. “S’all right,” he said quietly, his strong, warm hands gently rubbing her back. “Everythin’s all right now, birdie.”

Westley’s crying calmed intermittently as you rocked him, but he was hungry, and neglected. 

When Daryl left momentarily to touch base with the others, you stayed behind with the children. Maggie and Carol met up with you in that townhouse, where they’d brought Hershel, Gracie, and some more children that they’d found being held in one of the other houses. It was the biggest children’s sleepover you’d ever seen, though it was still a rather solemn night. 

Coco was still nowhere to be found, and a few other babies belonging to some of the Commonwealth prisoners weren’t there, either. It chilled you to the bone, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. 

Daryl wouldn’t, either. He instead helped draw up a plan of attack with some of the others, planning on returning to the Commonwealth first thing come sunrise. They were going to get the rest of the children back, and they were going to take down Pamela for what she’d done, or tried to do. 

Though it would’ve been a great historical moment to witness, you stayed in the townhouse to help watch over the children, and to nurse Wes. Even Dog, who’d been chained up outside the house, seemed starved of attention, so you brought him in, and he welcomed you with a myriad of slobbery kisses.

It wasn’t until almost sunrise when Maggie paid you a visit, knocking gently on the door to the bedroom you’d planted yourself in. 

You smiled up at her, folding your blanket over Westley as he nursed. Robin laid next to you, her head using your belly as a pillow. She was curled up, tucking her legs into her chest as she slept soundly, small, dainty snores and little wispy breaths filling the air. As he slept on the foot of the bed, Dog’s snores helped create a strange little symphony. 

Maggie smiled back at you. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know—”

“No, no,” you replied quietly. “You can come in… She’s a heavy sleeper.” You looked down at the sleepy baby, his heavy little eyes trying to stay open as he fed from your breast. “Oh, um… If it makes you uncomfortable, I can—”

“I’ve seen your tits before, (Y/N).”

Oh. 

You’d almost forgotten about that. When you live on the road with someone for so long, and in tight quarters at a place like the prison, you get to know everyone a lot more intimately. In other words, Maggie walked in on you changing or bathing more than once. 

“Right,” you laughed under your breath. “Come in, sit down.”

You gestured loosely to the armchair in the corner of the room. It sat beside of a small bedside table, upon which was a gas lamp that gave off a warm, dim glow in the dark morning mist. 

“I don’t think I got to properly meet this little one,” she said. “Westley?”

“Mhm… We’ve been calling him Wes for short. Well, Daryl likes to call him scout.” 

Maggie smiled, and sometimes you forgot just how beautiful and sweet her smile was. It could light up every room, you didn’t even need that old oil lamp. “That’s cute. Wes lucked out. He was born into a pretty great family.”

“Mm, a big family. So many aunts and uncles… I think Aunt Maggie is going to be a favorite, though.”

She shook her head. “Think Aunt Carol’s got that distinction, least with Robin.”

You reached a hand down to lightly caress Robin’s shoulder over the fleece blanket that Daryl had draped over her before he left. “Give it time,” you said. “Soon you’ll be her hero, I just know it.” You paused to adjust Westley, moving him to the other breast as carefully as you could so not to disturb Robin. “How’s Hershel?”

“He’s all right,” she sighed with a nod. “Sleepin’ like a baby. All of them are. Don’t think they got much sleep since they were taken.”

You didn’t think anyone would get much sleep until all this was over. You knew you wouldn’t. “Poor things. They’ve been through a lot.” You looked down at Wes, who’d now fully fallen asleep in your arms. You smiled and gently maneuvered him so you could button up your blouse. “He was so hungry.”

Maggie nodded solemnly, her serious side coming through again. “They’ll pay,” she said, even more quietly, just in case Robin or the other children stirred in their sleep. “For everything.”

“Maggie,” you said, “you were right not to trust them… I should’ve been more skeptical, I just—”

“You were doing what was best for your family,” she interrupted. “For Robin and the baby. You were thinking about them. Any mom would’ve done it.”

You looked confused, and you were. Wasn’t Maggie a mom too? “But you didn’t.”

“I was just doin’ what I thought was the best thing to do,” she said. “Now here we are, in the exact same place.”

“We’re home,” you said. “Did you ever think… when we came here, all those years ago, that we’d be here right now?”

“No,” she replied with a grin. “It’s so surreal. I—I remember how… how excited Glenn was.”

You remembered it, too. Glenn was one of the first people in your group to want Alexandria to be your home. He believed in it. He was the spark of humanity, reminding you all that you could no longer live on the road, always on the brink of starving and never able to turn your back. He wanted you all to have a home.

Alexandria had been through so much. So many people and so many things had been lost, but what always remained was Alexandria. 

“This place is special,” you said. “Glenn saw that.”

“He did… I miss him everyday.”

You untucked a hand from underneath the baby, who stirred a little, but soon settled back into sleep once your hand outstretched to hold Maggie’s. “We all do. He’d be so proud of you, and everything you’ve done.”

She sniffled as she bowed her head, nodding all the while. “You know, you’ve always been my best friend.”

Your face melted into touched surprise. It’d been years since she’d told you that. “You’re my best friend, too… We’ve come a long way since the farm, huh?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “When you asked Glenn for…” She leaned in closer, whispering even lower. “Condoms.”

“Shh!” you laughed. 

“Coulda used a few more, huh?” She nodded her head towards the baby in your arms, and you nudged her with her elbow, shaking your head. You couldn’t help but smile, though. 

“Shut up.”

~

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[radical-sky]

just a little bored, i'm feeling crummy ilsa/ethan one-shot. post dead reckoning part 2. nothing explicit, but very much so implied. no beta, just something i punched out quickly on my computer.

UPDATE: edited and posted on ao3 here

Ethan isn't sure what woke him up, but he's not complaining. Ilsa is warm and soft, tucked against him, face peaceful and relaxed in sleep. A strand of hair pulled from the braid she never took out has fallen across her face, breaking the line of her jaw, the soft curve of her cheek. He pulls an arm from where they're wrapped around her and tucks the hair behind her ear. She dyed it dark auburn, nearly the same shade as when they first met, before they settled at this safe house almost three weeks ago. His hand lingers on her face, fingers brushing over her cheek before moving to her neck, settling on her pulse point. He focuses on the steady beat under his fingers, the easy thrum of her heart pumping blood through her veins. He counts the beats, each one a visceral reminder that Ilsa is alive, here with him. The year of his life when he thought she was dead nothing more than bad memories now. He forgave her the moment she revealed herself to him, pulling him from the proverbial cliff and saving his life in more ways than one. They’d beaten The Entity, defeated the machine together, and killed Gabriel along with it. 

It’s been six months and Ethan is the most peaceful he’s ever felt. He’d been weary after Venice, exhausted in a way that settled deep in his bones and didn’t lift no matter how much he slept - or tried to. The grief of Ilsa’s death had weighed on him, haunted him in a way he never could’ve imagined. After the Entity, all he wanted was rest. Peace. Slow mornings, easy days, evenings wrapped up with Ilsa. A future without the fate of the world on his shoulders.

The safehouse they’re in now is remote, completely off grid. A cabin Ilsa set up early in her MI6 career, deep in Northern Sweden, nestled amongst steep mountains and well hidden in a dense forest. There’s no electricity except for a small diesel generator that powers the water pump and some lights if they need them. The single room is heated by a wood burning stove. It’s cozy, intimate, and domestic in a way he hasn’t experienced in almost 20 years. This is what freedom feels like. 

Ilsa is warm against him, bare skin pressed against his where they’re still wrapped together, touching everywhere they can. Even in sleep they both want the reminder that the other is there. The blankets trap their heat and keep them comfortable, but he can feel the chill of the air in the room on his face. They’d gotten distracted the previous evening and forgotten to fill the stove before losing themselves in each other. Ethan tightens his grip around Ilsa, pulling her impossibly closer and tucking his face into space between her shoulder and neck, kissing, tasting, always imprinting every bit of her to memory. 

As carefully as he can, Ethan extracts himself from her, slipping out of bed silently. He collects clothes as he makes his way across the cabin; soft sweatpants, wool socks, and an even softer flannel before he shrugs into his jacket, shoves his feet into leather boots and steps outside to grab wood and kindling for the stove. The air outside the cabin is cold enough to knock the breath from his lungs, and he quickly fills the canvas log carrier, the moon bright in the sky, forest around him muted and muffled under more snow. He slips inside, stepping out of his boots before making his way to the stove. It doesn’t take him long to fill the small stove, the little blaze warming the interior and quickly brightening the room with warm and soft light. He’s stacking the rest of the wood into the small rack next to the stove when he feels arms wrap around him from behind. In the past, he’d be raising into a defensive position, taking ahold of his attacker. His body doesn’t even tense, long relaxed, defenses shut down knowing Ilsa is the only one near him. Ethan smiles, looking up at her, and pressing back into her as she steps up and meets his body with hers. 

“I distracted you last night and the stove went out, didn’t it?” She asks, voice soft as she grins down at him. 

He brushes the bits of wood from his hands and brings them up to clasp her arms. She also picked up clothing as she made her way across the cabin and he rubs his hands across the sleeves of his own sweater she’s wearing before he pushes it up her arm. Gently, he kisses the inside of her wrist, finding her pulse yet again before he trails kisses up to her palm. 

“I’ll let you distract me anytime.” He stands and turns as he says it, slow as his knees and bad leg complain. She’s there as he rises, expression soft, happy. Ilsa takes his face in her hands, fingers already cold against his skin. He meets her halfway. The kiss is slow, gentle. Passion behind it but no urgency. They have all the time in the world. Ethan’s hand tangles in her hair, further messes up the braid, then other pulls her close, needing her body against his. 

“Come back to bed, darling, warm me up.” She’s barely pulled away from him, and her lips brush his still as she speaks. 

Ethan nods against her, hands still roaming, tucking under the borrowed sweater, fitting themselves around her waist. She works at the jacket he never took off, and he lets go of her only long enough to shrug out of it. It’s several minutes before they make it back the bed, lost and distracted in each other. 

They tuck together again, lips flushed but bodies still freezing, arms wrapped around the other, holding. Her face is tucked into his chest, and Ethan can feel her gentle smile as they settle against one another. Idly, he traces patterns on her back, working his way around her chest, and resting on the sweater where he knows the scar on her left shoulder is. 

“Ethan…” she begins, knowing where his head his going, a conversation they’ve already had many times. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died Ilsa. I can’t imagine this without you. I don’t know if I would’ve walked away from the Sevastopol if you hadn’t been there.” 

Ilsa takes his hand, and moves it down, pressing it over her heart. 

“It’s in the past, Ethan. It’s not worth thinking about. I’m right here, I’ll always be here.”

Ethan leans down, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“This is all I want Ilsa. Life with you, whatever that means. I never want to wake up without you.”

She shifts against him, this isn’t the way this conversation usually goes. Normally he starts talking about the mission, blaming himself. Saying he should’ve gotten to the bridge faster, planned differently.

“Ethan, you know that’s what I want too, life together. Just us.” Ilsa pulls pushes her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling into the still too-long strands. 

“I love you Ethan.”

He pulls her closer to him. How did he get this? How did he almost lose this?

“I love you too Ilsa, more than you’ll ever know.” 

They hardly need to move to press their lips together, slowly opening up to one another, touch tender and revenant as they undress each other. Ethan is smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges but happy. Ilsa grins back.

God he loves her. He loves this. He is hers, she is his. He never could have dreamed of a future so complete, filled with so much joy. He doesn’t hurry, hands slow as he explores her body, they have their whole future together, and he intends to enjoy it.

[34to42]

I am so excited/nervous/scared for season 2 of this awesome show that I figured it might be fun to write out what I hope DOESN’T happen once the show comes back as Netflix historically doesn’t have a great track record with second seasons of their original shows.

- Peter dies at the end of the season. I know this is what Gabriel Basso mentioned he sees as a future for the character in an interview, but I really, really, really hope they give Peter a happier ending

- Rose is in only one or two episodes. I desperately need to see them interacting more than this

- Peter has some sort of romantic interaction with a fellow Night Agent or specifically with whichever character Brittany Snow is playing. Absolutely NOTHING against Brittany Snow as an actress but I really liked that Rose is played by a woman of colour and would love to see her remain as the main and only romantic interest

- A few of the character descriptions released on Instagram indicate a storyline involving the Iranian embassy and I just really hope anything they show regarding this isn’t horribly racist

- the character of President Travers being replaced by a male actor. It was refreshing to see Travers be a female president and I would love if they continued with that

- For the show to forget storylines started in season 1 that are still unfinished, such as Jim’s article, Farr being arrested, and Wick still be being in the wind

Would love to hear what you are or aren’t looking for in season 2!