#a face in the glass a message in the snow

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 11 (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 contains mature content)

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

☆warnings: cursing, alcohol, minor character ghosting everyone, cheating?, explicit content: a spicy videocall, mutual masturbation?, fingering/jerking off, sex toy (vibrator)

☆word count: 8.4k

☆a/n: this one hurts, but I hope you'll still love 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

☆☆☆☆☆

Tuesday, April 30th 

You’ve been lost in thought for hours - every hour feels like a whole day, and you can’t focus on what Ria is saying right now. She went off while speaking about Seokjin, but all you’re able to do is look out the vitrine of the café where you’re sitting along with Nabi. It’s raining - you think it’s fitting now that Jungkook is gone.

He’s texted you throughout the day, more than he usually does. It’s been reassuring, yet you feel like there is finality in the world today, in the way raindrops chase each other on the glass of the vitrine like you used to chase cars around Jungkook’s head. You haven’t replied to his last text message, haven’t even opened it yet.

You don’t dare to when you’re sitting with your friends.

“Are you even listening?” Ria’s annoyed voice cuts through your thoughts, and you startle, looking at her.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

She groans loudly, and then says, “What do you think about Seokjin?”

You widen your gaze, holding in a smile. “Why do you want to know?”

“He’s annoying, right?” she says.

“Is that why you’ve been spending all of your free time with him?” Nabi interjects, earning a glare from Ria.

“I have not.”

“You certainly have,” Nabi insists. “Both you and Y/n have been MIA to study sesh during the finals because you were with your boyfriends.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, your throat drying. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Nabi and Ria both throw you a no-bullshit look, but Ria loses it first, saying, “And I’m not dating Seokjin.”

“Where were you yesterday?” Nabi asks.

The prolonged silence is revealing, and you burst out laughing at the same time as Nabi.

“It doesn’t mean anything!” Ria says.

You pick up your smoothie, taking a long sip from it as Nabi says, “Obviously not. That’s why you have a hickey on your neck.”

You choke on your sip as Ria blushes, yet in pure Ria fashion, she wiggles her eyebrows. “What about it? At least I’m not fucking my brother’s best friend and lying about it even though everyone in the world literally knows.”

You put down your drink, gaze widening. “That was low.”

“Deserved though,” Ria insists, folding her arms on her chest.

There’s no animosity to the way she is speaking. Just amusement, and a teasing undertone that strikes a nerve now that he’s in Paris and the future of your relationship is so uncertain.

“For what?” you let out, looking towards Nabi for help. She pretends she isn’t listening, looking down at her empty latté mug, but you see on her face how she’s waiting for you to say something. “Tae wouldn’t let it happen.”

“Tae was gone for the semester,” Ria points out. “And you spent a lot of time with Jungkook, and he always drove you home and shit. We know, babes, I don’t know why you try to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“You’re just trying to get the conversation away from you and Seokjin!”

It’s a weak comeback, but it’s all you can do.

“For real, even though I might be sleeping with Jin,” Ria says, introducing a nickname you’ve never heard her say before, “I’m not into him for more than that. But you and Jungkook…”

You feel like throwing your smoothie at her, but you choose peace and remain silent.

“So you are fucking Seokjin,” Nabi chimes in, throwing you a lifeline you immediately grasp on.

Ria shrugs. “So what if I am?” she asks. “It’s just sex.”

You think about Seokjin, about the forlorn look in his eyes whenever you’re out in public, and she flirts with other people. You highly doubt it’s just sex for him, but he’s too respectful to tell Ria, isn’t he?

“Is it though?” you say.

Ria nods forcefully. “At least to me it is. If it’s not the case for him then that sounds like his problem, not mine.”

You wince in time with Nabi, and she says, “That’s mean, Ri.”

She throws her hands up in defence. “What do you want me to say? I don’t like him like that.”

That’s fair enough. You can’t force a heart to love, like you’d realized last November with Hoseok. 

No matter how much you’d tried to love him, you’d never even had butterflies with him. Maybe even then you knew that true love wasn’t to be found with Hoseok, but with Jungkook instead…

“He’s great though,” Nabi says. “He’s got a solid research grant.”

“I’m not a nerd like you guys. I don’t care about his research grant”

You snort. “You so are a nerd. You like anime.”

“Anime isn’t for nerds,” she insists. Which, you totally agree with the statement. You’ve watched a couple of them with Jungkook, and you found each and every one of them fun to watch.

But Ria doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah yeah,” you say. “Keep telling that to yourself.”

She glares at you, but Nabi intervenes with, “Why wouldn’t you care about the grant? It’s really good for him.”

Ria shrugs, falling serious. “Because I don’t care about him like that. He’s just a good fuck.”

Ria’s always been like this. Ever since you’ve met her, she’s always been the type to sleep around, and you’ve always encouraged her for it, as it was helping her get over the fact that she was cheated on. Yet right now you feel bad for Seokjin - maybe because you know he’s into her, and you wish for her the happiness you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook.

Happiness that is now on hold, possibly never to resume.

“Fair enough,” you say, and you grab your smoothie to finish it, taking two long sips.

“What about you and Jungkook?” Ria then asks, and she smirks victoriously.

You put the empty smoothie glass away, sighing deeply. “Honestly right now there’s nothing to tell.”

“Did you fuck him?”

You purse your lips, shrugging. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s so obvious!” Ria says. “Your hair sometimes smells like cologne, and you can’t tell me it’s someone other than him. You would have told us if you were seeing someone else.”

“Not that I want to stir shit but…” Nabi trails off. “She’s got a point.”

“Leave me alone,” you grumble, though you don’t see the point in hiding it anymore.

It’s not like they might say something in front of Jungkook’s friends, who would then tell Taehyung. You’re planning to tell Taehyung the second he lands and crosses the threshold of your shared apartment after all.

“You’re blushing,” Ria teases.

“Because you’re putting me on the spot!” you say, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh no.” Ria’s face falls, and her mouth hangs open for a few seconds as her eyes go round. “Oh no, babes.”

“What?” you let out, sounding grumpier than you feel.

No, you just feel apprehensive as her whole demeanour changes.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

It falls like a hydrogen bomb, leaving nothing but dust behind. And you can’t answer. All you have to offer is a blink, and the sound of your heart shattering in the distance.

“Oh no,” Nabi cuts in. “Y/n, you know his reputation…”

“We’ve been together since Valentine’s Day,” you quickly say, only so that they stop before making you feel bad. You’ve gone down that road before, and you’ve long come back from it. “Or as together as we can be considering Tae.”

“Bitch you what?” Ria shrieks. “That’s insane. You were letting me go on and on about him while you were with him?”

“Wait, you’re with him like boyfriend-girlfriend?” Nabi asks before you can reply to Ria.

“I knew he wouldn’t get with you,” you say to Ria, and then you glance at Nabi. “And no, we’ve never really talked about it, or referred to it as boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“So, it’s a situationship then?” Ria asks.

Though the words pain you grandly, they ring true. Far too true for it to be comfortable. “I guess so. But… I know the feelings are reciprocated.”

You sound delusional, even to your own ears. Maybe because he’s on an entire other continent - out of sight, out of mind. But you saw his soft gaze whenever he looks at you. You were there when he kissed you by the door before leaving yesterday. 

I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work, he’d whispered.

And fuck, all you want to do is believe him, believe that there’s a way you truly can make it work.  

“I hope you’re right,” Nabi says, though she sounds infinitely doubtful.

You don’t blame her. They don’t truly know Jungkook - not like you do.

“Wait…” Ria repeats, though this time she continues with, “That means you were together with him when you went to New York.”

The extravagance of the luxurious condo where he’d grown up flashes before your eyes as you nod once. “Yeah.”

“Bitch!” Ria lets out. “I knew it! I can’t believe you pretended you guys were just friends then.”

Unable to stay silent anymore, you retell your relationship to your friends. You tell them everything - how it started, how it entirely changed in New York, what he’d whispered right before he’d left. You tell them everything, not mentioning the fact that Jungkook is rich, feeling like that isn’t your story to tell. 

You feel lighter after. Like finally being able to tell people has taken a weight off your shoulders. You reckon, you might start flying when Taehyung knows. When you don’t have to hide it from anyone anymore - you’ll be weightless, like a cloud in the sky up above.

It’s with that in mind that you head home for dinner, Nabi having something planned with Namjoon and Ria having to head to work. You check your phone as you walk home, safely hidden underneath your red umbrella.

[4:14 pm] JK: any chance we can facetime tonight?

It’s almost an hour later, yet Jungkook’s text makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you smile down at your phone as you reply with,

[5:07 pm] You: i’ll be home in 10 min, you still up?

Jungkook’s answer comes almost half an hour later when you’re trying to cook some noodles the same way that he showed you - a lot spicier than what you can handle, but spicy makes you think of him, so spicy it is.

[5:33 pm] JK: i’ll call you in two

You assume he needs to find a place to hide so that your brother doesn’t hear, and you apprehensively - in a good way obviously - wait for him to call as you gauge the amount of gochujang to put in your noodles. He ends up calling five minutes later, and you immediately answer, a bright smile on your lips.

Jungkook is smiling just as brightly when he comes into view, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you. He looks a little dazed, like maybe he’s had something to drink, but he still looks just as beautiful as he always has.

Even a phone camera cannot dim Jeon Jungkook’s beauty. 

His eyebrow piercing glints in the soft light on his side of the line, where he’s sitting outside. He toys at his lip piercings, glancing away from his phone for a few seconds before setting his gaze back on you.

“Hey peach,” he greets you.

Your heart is warm, gentle, when you reply, “Hey Kook.”

He notices you’re in the kitchen as you stir the noodles, and his gaze widens just a little as he says, “Are you cooking?” You flip the camera to show him your creation, and he nods approvingly. “You’re getting good at this,” he praises, and a light blush covers your cheeks.

“Only because I had the best teacher,” you say as you flip the camera back towards you.

He chuckles. “The best indeed.” There’s a pause as he glances around again, seemingly making sure that no one can hear, and then he asks, “What were you up to today?”

“I went to a café with Ria and Nabi,” you admit. Your cheeks burn even more, and you avert your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, immediately noticing your unease.

“I might have told them about us,” you reveal, and you worry at your bottom lip.

You think he’ll be mad, upset, but instead he laughs, a clear sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “You’re adorable. I can’t wait to tell my friends either.”

“As soon as you come back,” you promise. “We’ll tell Tae the second he walks into the apartment.”

Jungkook nods vehemently. “I’m not waiting a second longer,” he agrees. “And if he’s pissed, we can just run into the sunset together.”

That makes you laugh, and Jungkook watches you, his eyes sparkling with amusement and what you want to believe is love.

“He will be pissed,” you warn him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“We will.”

You fall silent as voices are heard on the other side of the line. They’re speaking French, so you can’t really tell what they’re saying, and you wait as Jungkook watches them walking by before focusing his eyes on you again. 

“Where are you?” you ask him.

“Just in a park outside of the Airbnb,” he replies. “Thought it might be better to call you while outside.”

“Good call.” You move the pot in which you’re cooking your noodles away from the heat on the stove, turning it off. “What did you do today?”

Jungkook tells you about his day as you pour your noodles in a bowl, and then sit at the table to eat. It’s too hot for the first few minutes, so you just listen as Jungkook tells you about his overnight flight, and about the struggle to find the Airbnb. He admits he napped for three hours straight when they finally got there, and that they went out for dinner after, coming home around the time he texted you earlier to Facetime.

The first bite of your noodles reveals that you might have made them a little too spicy, but under Jungkook’s watchful gaze, you make sure to eat everything, dousing the spice with the Yakult you’ve bought because Jungkook likes to mix it with soju.

“You know,” Jungkook says as you finish eating, your cheeks red with the spice. “I wish you were here with us. Seeing Sera and Jimin, and Ariane and Tae…” he trails off, offering you a sad smile. “I really wish you were here, peach.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you offer him a small smile. “I really wish I was with you, too.”

A beat of silence passes, while you get lost in his gaze and he gets lost in yours. He furrows his brows a moment later, and he says, “Tae texted me to come back.”

“Oops,” you let out, and he chuckles softly.

“I don’t want to hang up though,” he says, and he pouts in that cute way of his.

“Keep me in your pocket then,” you challenge. “I’ll be mute as a rock.”

He cocks an eyebrow as he laughs. “I’ll turn off my volume just to be sure. I’ll try to hide in the bathroom or something.”

You approve of his plan, and a second later your screen goes dark as Jungkook does indeed hide you in his pocket. You move to your bedroom as you wait, and you hear noises coming from his side, though most of it is muffled by the fabric.

It takes almost ten minutes, but Jungkook pulls you out in a blindingly bright bathroom, the fan loud enough to hide your speaking.

“I’m back,” he says.

You chuckle. “Obviously.”

He narrows his gaze, and then scans your features. “You’re so pretty.”

The compliment takes you by surprise, and your cheeks turn red as you let out, “Oh.” You gulp, and then add, “Thank you.”

“And you might think I’m insane but, fuck, am I crazy for wanting you right now?”

Your blush deepens as you watch his gaze go from sparkly to lustful as he pulls on his piercings.

“Right now?” you repeat, feeling a little breathless all of a sudden.

He nods. “Yeah. I already miss how you feel when I’m balls deep inside of you.”

You roll your eyes, the redness lingering on your cheeks. “We had sex yesterday morning,” you remind him.

“Yeah, and?”

He’s insufferable. He’s insufferable and adorable and, if everything goes well, this man might be yours in a week.

It sets your nerves alight with reciprocated desire, and you bite at your lower lip. “Nothing,” you innocently say. “I’d definitely suck your dick right now though.”

His gaze hardens almost imperceptibly. “Peach.”

You smirk. “What?”

“Anything else you’d do?” he asks, and he shifts where he’s sitting.

“Mmh.” You pause, let the suspense linger. “Maybe I’d tie you up. You’re always trying to control everything, maybe you deserve to be put back into your place.”

“Shit.” You know your bold words had their effect on him when he shifts again, sucking on his piercings harder. He runs a hand through his hair, and then he says, “I’ll fuck you so hard when I come back, peach. I want to hear you screaming my name.”

“So loud Tae hears?” you tease.

He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed, yet you know him enough to know it probably just turns him on more. 

“Definitely,” he says. He inhales sharply, leaning back against the wall. “I’ll fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”

You’ve never had sex without a condom, but you remember that first night when he’d fingered you with his cum…

You’ve always been insane for him, haven’t you? 

You clench your thighs together, seeking friction, as you notice Jungkook moving to touch himself too. 

“You will?” you say, breathless.

He nods, and then he curses under his breath. “Now I’m hard for you.”

“Yeah?” you let out. “Show me.”

His eyes darken even more, and he chuckles lowly. “I don’t do nudes, peach.”

It surprises you so much that you lose your arousal for a few seconds, up until Jungkook grunts.

“Well, you’ll do it for me, mmh?” you tease, a smirk adorning your lips.

“You’d like that, huh?”

You would. A lot more than you should - you’ve never been big on nudes either. But… phone sex isn’t exactly nudes, is it?

“I would,” you say after a few seconds of debating if you should or should not do it. “I want to see you, Kook.”

The nickname undoes him. Jungkook sucks on his piercings, and then he moves, his camera blurring. You know he’s taken his pants off when he comes back on screen, his eyes swirling with lust for you.

“Why don’t you show me yourself first?” he asks.

You don’t even hesitate. You’re in bed after all, and ridding yourself of your clothes only takes about thirty seconds, as Jungkook listens to the rustle of the fabric.

You grab your phone when you’re fully naked, making sure that he can’t see anything yet.

“What do you want to see?” you ask, and you only then realize that Jungkook is shirtless, and from the motion in his bicep, he’s clearly jerking off.

You turn molten, liquid lava, like you’re the magma under the tectonic plates. 

“All of you,” he purrs. “I want to see all of you, peach.”

You oblige, propping your phone against a pillow as you lie against another pillow. Jungkook immediately moves his camera so that you can see how he’s stroking himself, and you let out a breathy sound as your hand slides between your legs, pressing lazy circles on your clit. Jungkook watches you hungrily, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now,” he says, voice low and husky.

“I wish you could,” you echo.

He picks up his pace on his dick, wrist twisting when he’s close to the top, grip tight like you know he likes it. It’s sinfully beautiful, arousing, and your circles grow faster, quicker, desperate as you seek the pleasure only he can provide.

“Don’t be shy,” he says after a few seconds. “Use your vibrator.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and the second the toy is vibrating and buried inside you, you let out a low-clipped moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook says. “With your tattoo and just… fuck.”

You just answer with a moan that sounds like his name, and he curses again.

“You make me such a mess,” he says. “A fucking mess for you, peach.”

“Yeah?” you breathlessly let out.

“Fuck yeah.”

Your pussy makes squelching sounds as you push the toy in and out of yourself, the buzz a background to the lustful actions you’re partaking in. Jungkook’s camera isn’t quite angled on his dick anymore, but you don’t even care.

Not when you’re aware he’s watching you, drinking every little sound you emit as pleasure rakes through your body. The thought is far too enticing, arousing, and your walls clench around the toy.

“Shit, I’ll come so quickly,” you admit, not even embarrassed about it.

“Do it, peach,” Jungkook says. “Fucking come for me.”

You don’t need more, the crude words pushing you over the edge. You still the motions of the toy inside of you as your walls pulse and pulse, yet you keep drawing circles - slow again - as you milk your orgasm out of you. Jungkook watches it all like he’s starved for you, and when you finally pull your toy out of yourself, he’s the one that groans, “Fuck peach, I think I’ll come too.”

You don’t even have to say anything. He immediately comes, white spurts of cum shooting from his dick. The white cum covers his hand, his tattoos, and you almost want to start again, the sight so devilish yet so beautiful to you.

“Fuck,” Jungkook says, grunting as he keeps milking his climax out of himself, his pace barely slowed down. 

Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and Jungkook stops, hand wrapped around the base. You eye the cum still dripping from his hand, rolling down the back of it.

It’s pornographic. Deadfully so, and you bite at your lower lip.

“That was hot,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, and he puts his phone down, revealing the ceiling and the light fixture. “It really was.”

You assume he’s cleaning himself up, so you quickly do the same, heading to the bathroom. 

Jungkook comes back into view when you’re on your way back to your room, and you feel shy under his gaze. Not embarrassed, but what just happened makes your heart skip beats and your cheeks burn, in all the right ways.

“We should do this again,” Jungkook says when you’re lying in bed once more, your vibrator cleaned and put away in your night table.

You smirk mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like that?” you tease.

He laughs, and it makes you miss him so much your heart squeezes in your chest.

He’s only been gone for a day, and you’re already going insane. You’re lucky it’s just a week - in six days he’ll be back, and hopefully you’ll never have to be apart again.

“I would,” he says, and he offers you a lopsided grin that makes you want to hold onto him, forever.

You take a deep breath around the emotion as it swells up in your chest, in your soul. The smile you offer him is warm, filled with all the feelings that your heart hosts for him, and he immediately reciprocates.

“Can’t wait for you to be back,” you admit, voice small as if you’re afraid he’ll reject you.

You know he won’t - you’re creating that universe where it makes sense for you to be together after all.

“Soon, peach,” he promises. “And then I’ll annoy your ass until you don’t like me anymore.”’

As if that would be possible. 

“Good luck with that.” 

He chuckles softly, and it breaks into a yawn, reminding you that, even though he’s just on the other side of the screen, he’s in an entirely different timezone, and he’s likely still jet-lagged from his overnight flight.

“Tired?” you ask.

He nods. “I’ll go to bed as soon as we hang up,” he says. “We’re visiting the Louvres tomorrow.”

Your phone vibrates in your hand as a text comes in, but you can’t read the text at the top of your screen before it disappears. You switch to your messages app, brows furrowed.

“Where did you go?” Jungkook whines.

Your heart drops to your ass as you read the text once, twice, trying to make sense of it.

[6:07 pm] Yoongi: hobi left and blocked me

A second text comes in just a few seconds later.

[6:08 pm] Yoongi: he didn’t even say goodbye

You immediately switch to your conversation with Hoseok, and you ask him what’s up, but the text remains green despite the fact that the rest of the conversation is filled with blue bubbles. 

He’s blocked you too. And when you go to the group chat with all of your other friends, you notice he’s left it as well, and you’re blocked on social media too.

“Where are you?” Jungkook whines again, the pout in his voice evident.

You go back to Facetime. “I think I’ll have to go.”

He looks displeased, and he toys with his piercings, his tongue pushing into his cheek a second later. “Why?”

“Yoongi needs me,” you say. “And!” you quickly add before he can say anything. “It’s about Hobi.”

“What about Hobi?” Jungkook asks, and you hear the annoyance just as well as you see it etched on his features.

You usually find him adorable when he gets jealous, but right now you can’t even focus on that, your thoughts going to Yoongi, whose heart is likely shattering on and on at the moment.

“He left and blocked everyone,” you tell Jungkook. “So yeah, I think Yoongi’s going to need me tonight.”

Jungkook doesn’t like the explanation. It’s clear as spring water, yet he still says, “M’kay.”

“We can call again tomorrow?” you suggest, hoping that it’d reassure him.

Even though he doesn’t need reassurance - there’s no one else in your heart but him, and you hope he knows it.

“Sure,” he says.

It’s your turn to pout. “Please?”

At that he melts, his features softening. “Well if you ask so nicely…” 

That ends the conversation, and you quickly say goodbye, wishing him a good night. You take him in up until he hangs up the call, missing him the second that he’s gone. 

But you know Yoongi needs you, no matter how much you wish you could stay here with Jungkook. 

*****

Two hours later, you’re sitting on Yoongi’s bed, Namjoon on your left while Yoongi sits on the floor, his back against the bed. He’s drinking a beer, and you have an unopened one next to you. Condensation covers the bottle, yet you haven’t found it in you to drink yet.

Yoongi has been silent. You’d got there almost at the same time as Namjoon, and you’d been surprised to see him. Namjoon had just shrugged and said, “I’ve known him my whole life”, and that had been that.

It’s hard to cheer Yoongi up. Even harder after he told you that all Hoseok left behind was a letter of apologies. And you’ve read the letter - it broke your heart too, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yoongi’s feeling.

In the letter, Hoseok explained why he decided to leave. You were right - he wanted to leave because of his relationship with Yoongi, seeking to flee from the reality of it, from the fact that Yoongi was his best friend, and that he felt like he’d lost that. It’s something you can understand - losing a friend is always hard, and sometimes the friendship is worth more than a relationship. At least it was to Hoseok. And though in the letter he claims that he’s enjoyed the last few months with Yoongi, his sudden absence, with no way to contact him, is proof enough that he didn’t really.

At least that’s what Yoongi’s been saying. 

Namjoon was shocked when Yoongi revealed his relationship with Hoseok. Even more so as he realized that you, out of everyone, were the only one who knew. Yet he’d taken it in stride, offering to have a beer with Yoongi.

“It’s fucking bullshit,” Yoongi says for what seems to be the hundredth time. 

You’d let him say it a thousand times more if that helped him feel better.

“You know what we should do?” Namjoon says from beside you.

You glance at him, before setting your gaze on the back of Yoongi’s head again.

“What?” Yoongi asks, looking over his shoulder.

“What about a rage room?”

Yoongi laughs an empty laugh. “No thank you. Though maybe it would help temporarily, I kind of just want to find a way to tell Hobi he’s a dick.”

You quickly found out that Hoseok has indeed blocked everyone from the friend group. As if cutting everyone out of his life was the only way he’d find solace in his new life. You think it’s a cowardly thing to do, and you’ve said so a couple of times already, to Yoongi’s delight.

“I don’t think that would bring you anywhere,” Namjoon carefully answers, the voice of reason itself.

You disagree, as you’ve always had more of an explosive personality, but you remain silent.

Yoongi glares at Namjoon. “It’d bring me a lot of satisfaction, thank you very much.”

Yoongi is funny. Behind all the cold exterior he has for people he doesn’t know, he’s got a funny persona you never thought was there. And you love it - he reminds you of you in some ways, and maybe that’s why you’ve gotten so close so easily.

“I personally think we should find out where he went and slash his tires,” you innocently say as you grab the beer bottle.

Namjoon narrows his gaze. “I doubt that’d be a good idea.”

“But fuck if it wouldn’t feel good,” Yoongi says, and he hands you the beer opener.

You open your beer, immediately bringing it to your lips as it foams and it threatens to spill. You drink as much of it as you can, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It would,” you echo. “But maybe we can resort to more peaceful options. I feel like Namjoonie here will go insane if we keep suggesting stuff like that.”

“He’s boring, isn’t he?” Yoongi says.

“Yeah, why did you invite him?”

Namjoon snorts. “You guys are aware that I’m right here?”

“Did someone say something?”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, pursing his lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe the apartment is haunted.”

“It has to be,” you agree, nodding forcefully.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Namjoon asks, and you burst out laughing in time with Yoongi.

You’re relieved to hear him laugh. You didn’t know what to expect when you’d suggested coming over, but it’s a relief that he isn’t that much of a mess.

But then again, you have a feeling Yoongi is the kind of person to put on a mask whenever he’s with people. And maybe that’s okay - maybe tonight you’re just a distraction to keep him from spiraling out of control. 

You don’t mind. 

“Nothing,” Yoongi says, sighing deeply. “Besides the fact that I’ve just been ghosted by my best friend.”

You wince at the harsh reality of his words, but Yoongi shrugs it off as Namjoon says, “It’ll get better.”

Another sigh moves through Yoongi, and he nods. “I know. It’s just going to suck for a while.”

You shift, sliding from his bed down to the floor so that you can sit next to him. “And that’s okay.”

He avoids your gaze as you look at his profile, and so you glance away, your eyes sliding to his record player. The record he put on when you arrived has done playing, and you’ve been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes, but it’s a comfortable silence.

Maybe because you speak when needed, and Yoongi and Namjoon have a calm aura to them that you find you appreciate far more than you’d expect. You’re used to Ria after all, and though you love her, she’s a tornado everywhere she goes.

“How are you and Nabi?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden.

Namjoon blushes, as the quick glance towards him tells you. “You sure you want to talk about that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not because I’m miserable that everyone has to be.”

“You’re not miserable,” you gently say.

Yoongi’s side eye makes you stifle a laugh. “Let me be miserable.” There’s a pause, and Yoongi eventually pushes up from his bed, sitting straighter so that he can turn and look at Namjoon. “So?”

“We’re good,” Namjoon finally replies. “I’m trying to take things slow because of…” he trails off as he looks at you. “But yeah, we’re good.”

“That’s great,” Yoongi says, and though it doesn’t sound sarcastic at all, he adds, “Genuinely. You deserve it man.”

You don’t know a lot about Namjoon’s previous relationship. Just the girl’s name - Julia - and you can’t help the curiosity that overtakes you. But you’re not a dick. Indeed, you hold your questions in, instead saying, “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.”

He winces, laughing lightly. “Ria told me the exact same thing.”

“Because Nabi is too precious and she needs to be protected at all cost,” you vehemently say, half-joking. You follow up with, “But seriously, please do take things slowly, and always be honest to her. She’s had this massive crush on you, and I really don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I know,” Namjoon says, and he sighs, looking down the neck of his half-empty beer bottle. “I’ve had a crush on her too so…”

“You did?”

Yoongi laughs. “He so did. He kept mentioning her for months, saying that she was just a friend.”

“I mean, technically she was,” Namjoon says, trying to defend himself.

He’s blushing furiously now - it’s climbing up his neck and covering his whole face, and you think, that right here is what Nabi deserves.

“We always knew it wasn’t just that, though,” Yoongi says. “Clearly Julia knew too.”

Namjoon’s expression falls, and he sighs deeply. “Yeah. To be fair, she’s the one that decided to end things.”

You remain silent, taking a long sip of beer to refrain from saying something stupid, something that would silence Namjoon. You hate the taste of beer though, and you scrunch up your nose in disgust as you swallow. It goes unnoticed by both men, as Yoongi says, “Honestly, Julia was a bitch.”

“She had it rough growing up,” Namjoon replies, his voice drowning in what you think might be nostalgia, or regrets. “Hopefully she’ll get better from now on.”

“Having rough circumstances growing up doesn’t give someone an excuse to be a dick though,” Yoongi flatly says, not one to mince his words after all. “But yeah, hopefully she’ll get the help she clearly needs.”

Damn. You almost feel bad for the girl, but then again you don’t know her. Maybe Yoongi’s animosity towards her is deserved, and you don’t feel like questioning it.

No, you’d rather Namjoon forget about her and focus on Nabi instead.

“Whatever,” Namjoon lets out, shrugging his shoulders. “Even though everything with Nabi is recent, I feel a lot better with her than I ever felt with Julia.”

“Not hard to beat,” Yoongi grumbles underneath his breath, which earns him a slap behind the head from Namjoon.

“Hey, I get that you’re sad but don’t be a dick,” Namjoon sternly says.

Namjoon is a natural leader. You’ve seen it before, when he’d led your team from Frosh week to success. And you’ve seen it every time he’s TA’d a class, yet right now you realize he might be a leader in his friendships as well. Indeed, Yoongi folds, apologizing right away.

You end up spending the evening at Yoongi’s place. Your other friends join, and though the air around Seokjin and Ria is clearly tense, you end up having a blast. Even Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself, but when you notice him increasingly silent, you suggest heading home. He offers you a thankful gaze, and you guide everyone out of the apartment.

To your surprise, Yoongi hugs you goodbye, holding you close for a few seconds longer than you’d thought he’d be comfortable with. But then again, you reckon he might need it, so you hug him tight, letting him choose when to pull away.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers when he does, and his eyes glint with the silver on his waterline.

You offer him what you hope is a comforting smile. “Anytime, Yoongi. Just say the word and I’ll be here for you.”

“I’ll remember.”

You smile again, and then you wish him good night, walking out of the apartment last. Yoongi keeps the door open as you all walk down the stairs, and he shuts it when you’ve all disappeared from view. 

You send him a silent prayer to be gentle with himself, and you can only hope he hears it over the sound of his breaking heart.

Friday, May 3rd

You like your summer job. It’s chill, and you don’t have to start too early, so you always enjoy it. You’re an assistant at an optometry clinic, which means you do the pre-tests for the doctors, and since they don’t start before 10 am, you don’t either. 

What you don’t like is that one of the optometrists finishes at seven pm, which means you also do, and finishing at seven pm on a Friday evening should be a crime. It’s no wonder you’re slightly grumpy when you finally walk outside, waving goodbye to the optometrist.

At least she’s chill. She could be an asshole, but she got the team donuts today, and she even bought you lunch when you admitted you didn’t bring anything.

You walk to your car - the one you share with Taehyung - and you pull your phone out of your purse as you do so, eyes skimming over all the texts you’ve received.

You’re going out tonight, to a bar that Yoongi chose for its relatively chill ambiance, and you’re excited for it. Yoongi’s been MIA since you all hung out at his apartment, so you hope it’ll cheer him up, and you hope it’ll also help with pushing Jungkook out of your thoughts.

Not that you mind thinking about him - sometimes you believe him to be the president of the land of your mind. But he’s been texting you less and less every day, and you haven’t facetimed yesterday despite him saying he’d try.

You’ve been trying not to make a big deal out of it, but something about it feels off somehow. You reckon you’re probably just imagining things where none are, afraid as you are of the fragility of the relationship. 

But then again you’ve always trusted your gut feeling, and it’s never really failed you before.

You sigh, trying to ignore the foul taste in your mouth so that you can read the texts on your screen instead. Ria’s the one that texted you most recently, saying,

[6:46 pm] Ria: can we get ready at yours?  [6:47 pm] Ria: tho my mom’s happy I moved back in for the summer, she doesn’t want me to invite people over [7:06 pm] You: sure, heading home now

You reach your car, opening the door and throwing your purse on the passenger seat. A second later you’re sliding in, and you turn the keys in the engine. The car purrs to life, and soon enough, you’re on your way home, listening to the music on the radio.

Your mood brightens slightly when you reach home and see that there’s a spot on the street right in front of your apartment. You immediately grab it, even though you suck at parallel parking and it takes you three tries, and then you’re jumping out of the car, climbing the stairs to unlock the door.

You manage to take a shower before Ria shows up, a sour look on her features. You cock an eyebrow, letting her in. She breezes past you, not saying anything, and that more than anything else tells you that something’s wrong.

“What’s up?” you say as you carefully shut the door behind her.

She sighs loudly, extravagantly. “Jin isn’t coming tonight.”

You widen your gaze. “Oh?”

“He said he’s tired from work,” Ria says, and she folds her arms on his chest. “He sucks.”

You snort. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I know he’s lying!” She takes off her leather jacket, putting it away in the closet, and then she kicks off her shoes to strut into the kitchen. “Can I grab a glass of water?”

“Sure,” you say as you follow behind her. “Why do you think he’s lying?”

“He’s going on a date and doesn’t want to come to the bar after,” she admits, and the frown on her face tells you everything there is to know.

She is jealous, but she’ll never dare admit it. She’s way too proud for that, and though sometimes you know it protects her, you feel like it can be her demise all the same.

“Oof,” you only let out.

“Right?” She chugs the glass of water, putting it away in the sink. She leans back against the counter, folding her arms on her chest. “He’s just got out of a relationship, why would he get in another one?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging. “Isn’t that what Namjoon did with Nabi?”

“That’s not the same,” Ria insists, shaking her head. 

It is, as a matter of fact, the same, but you refrain from saying so.

“He doesn’t even know the girl, she’s a blind date that his colleague is forcing him to go on,” Ria adds. “Why would he want to go?”

“Well…” you let out. “Maybe he just wants to throw himself out there again.”

Ria doesn’t like you saying that, and she offers you a scalding look that makes you snort again.

“You’re so mad,” you tease her.

“I’m not!”

“Do you like him?”

She makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then why does it matter if he’s going on a date?”

The answering silence is telling enough, and Ria clenches her jaw once, before pouring herself another glass of water. “I hate when you make sense.”

“Love you too,” you answer, and you walk to her as she’s got her back turned to you. You hug her from behind, saying, “We’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”

And you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. You or Ria. Because the dreadful feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach only intensifies as you get ready, putting your makeup on in the bathroom while Ria curls her hair with your curling iron.

You’re almost done, about to put your setting powder on when the music stops, and the unmistakable sound of the Facetime ringing fills the room. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you quickly put your brush down, grabbing your phone.

“Damn, who’s calling you?” Ria teases your reaction.

You frown as you see Taehyung’s picture from your contacts - you’d expected Jungkook. 

You pick up, and it takes a few seconds before it connects. Taehyung’s smiling face comes into view, and it takes you half a heartbeat to figure out he’s drunk.

Jimin is laughing in the background, and you hear Sera scolding him, though all you can see is Taehyung, and you think the shoulder beside him might belong to Ariane.

“Sis,” Taehyung greets you. “Not ignoring me anymore?”

“Hello!” Ariane says, and she comes into view, resting her head on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Hi?” you answer, and Ria chimes in with a far more enthusiastic “Hello!”

“Y/n!” Jimin says in the background.

Taehyung turns his phone just enough for you to see Jimin, who’s waving like a madman.

They’re all drunk. That much is clear. What’s clearer is the absence of a certain Jeon Jungkook in the group, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s up to.

He hasn’t texted you since this morning after all.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“Just thought I’d check in with you,” Taehyung says, his speech slurred. “Anything fun planned tonight?”

“Going out with some friends,” you answer. “Nothing extravagant. What are you guys up to? Isn’t it crazy late in Paris?”

Taehyung frowns, focusing on something. “Just two am, not too bad.”

Right.

“What are you doing?” you ask, and you sit on the closed toilet, glancing once at Ria who seems fully focused on doing her hair.

“We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby,” Taehyung says. “They fucking stole the bedroom.”

Ria’s head snaps towards you, as time slows and slows and slows, coming to a halt long enough for you to say, “What?”

“Yeah, you’ll never imagine,” Taehyung says. “Ari’s best friend here is JK’s ex from high school. She’s French but she grew up in New York.”

Chronology is interrupted - you think there might be a hiccup in the line of time. But then it starts again, far too quickly, and your blood fills with adrenaline, your heart picking up in your chest.

“Who?” you let out, sounding infinitely stupid.

But then again, maybe you’ve been a fool all along, since that very first kiss he’d claimed to be a fake Valentine’s Day kiss.

“Gaby,” Taehyung repeats. “Gabrielle. She’s pretty chill.”

Your heart aches in your chest. It burns like someone threw acid on it, and you feel it shrivel behind your ribs, slowly turning to dust.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, and you wonder if you imagine the knowing look that passes on his face.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply, but you can’t breathe anymore.

It’s like there’s no more oxygen in the room, and you’re choking on the nitrogen, your mind spinning.

Taehyung gets up, and then everything is truly spinning. You think you hear Sera saying something that sounds like ‘Come on’, but then again you might be deaf.

All you hear is that sentence Taehyung said - We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby.

When you were younger, you’d always believed your heart to be invincible. You’d felt invincible, like maybe you were meant to conquer all mountains. 

Tonight, you realize you’ve never been invincible - you just never cared enough about anything to thoroughly break, your heart shred beyond recognition.

Taehyung is walking somewhere. He laughs on the way, and Jimin is close behind, as you can see his head peeking over your brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t open the door,” Jimin says.

Taehyung snorts, and it’s like he forgot you’re right there. Or maybe he’s enjoying this.

Maybe he’s known about Jungkook all along, and this is his own twisted way to kill the relationship before it really starts. 

Your reckon, you deserve it. For all the lies, for the truth hidden, you deserve it. But then again, isn’t Jungkook the true responsible of the neverending breaking in your chest? Because it’s breaking - like a glass dropped, your heart is shattering. 

Perhaps chasing cars around Jungkook’s head was only ever leading to an inevitable crash.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung singsongs, and then you hear a door being opened, and the camera flips.

You don’t even know why you’re still looking. You know exactly what’s going to be under your eyes - what is under your eyes - but you can’t stop watching. Can’t really see it either, blurry as it is behind the tears pooling in your gaze.

I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work

He was never going to come back, wasn’t he? He was bound to be left in the past - you should have known when you’d kissed him by the door. Should have known to take the time to commit his features to memory.

Your vision clears, and the scene comes in focus. He’s dressed. He’s fully clothed, and so is she - you don’t even know if it’s a relief. Because they’re clearly kissing, and you think maybe he’s ripped your heart from your chest.

He was lying to you. He was lying to you through it all, wasn’t he? You should have listened to everyone, should have run while you still could.

You’re crying. You only realize you’re crying when Ria steals your phone from your hands, quickly hanging up the call. 

“Y/n,” she gently says, and she kneels in front of you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. “Y/n.”

“Holy shit,” is all you’re able to say before you break into sobs, shaking from the ferocity of the heartbreak. 

Your heart, now shards of glass, pricks your skin, pricks your soul. Everything hurts - you burn and drown, you freeze and blaze. You can’t breathe around the sobs, choking on them as they rock through you, yet you can’t stop them.

And as you break, you see him on Valentine’s Day. You see his sparkling eyes, his gentle gaze. See his lips right before he’d kissed you, so gentle like he’d been afraid to break you. You see him in New York, see him as he’d fucked you like you were in the clouds. You see him every day since then - you’d been so convinced of the reciprocity of the feelings that you’d forgotten who you were dealing with.

You think perhaps you’d truly just been the little sister, a fantasy he had to check on his bullet list of things to do in his life. And perhaps he’d been afraid of breaking you, of the inevitable consequences on him.

“He fucking lied to me,” is the first thing you manage to say through the breaking.

Ria pulls you in, and you fall on the floor, where she holds you as you cry. 

“He fucking lied.”

She strokes your hair. “I’m sorry.”

And it hits you then - Jungkook never really said he had feelings for you. It’d just been an act - the grandest act of his life, perhaps. And you’d been foolish enough to fall, to fall and fall and think he’d catch you. You’d thought you were diving in sweet waters, yet tonight you crash on concrete, the Earth’s gravity destroying you until you’re just a memory, meant to be carried away on a wind of heartbreak.

Ria stays with you until you fall asleep in your bed, your makeup ruined by your tears.

Your heart ruined by Jeon Jungkook.

Prev | Chapter 11.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

.................. i am deeply sorry. please don't hate me for this one, and feel free to scream at me too :') (i promise everything will make sense one day)

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

[forlix]

"better, now."

words・749 / pairing・hyunjin x gn!stylist!reader / includes・fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption / note・an extremely self-indulgent kinda emo take on hyunjin @ vfw. takes place in the crying lightning universe.

Hyunjin is gone.

He stopped walking and started floating about five drinks ago, bode farewell to coherent sentences and his eyesight not too long after. Simply kept plucking flutes of champagne off trays carried around by kindred waiters and let himself bask in the glorious evening.

When his stylist shows up in front of him, he mistakes them for the moon.

Gentle hands push strands of sweaty hair out of his eyes, then move to cup his cheeks fondly, protectively, as if imprinting final touches into a snow angel. He watches your lips form his name from mere centimeters away, but the sound of it seems to travel underwater.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, more audibly this time, a lick of crisp night air cutting through the afterparty’s steamy throng.

He proceeds to melt into you in ways he cannot currently control, sliding a hand over the one you have on the side of his face, fingertips dipping in the slots between yours. Bringing you close enough to him that your chest moulds right against his. Grinning at you with a sickening sweetness that he can taste on his own mouth.

“Hi,” he replies.

“You okay? How are you?” You inquire. “Do you need anything?”

“Hi,” he says again, because he can’t really think of anything else, and that seems to be answer enough.

Before he knows it, he’s walking somewhere, guided only by the arm that he has slung over your shoulders and your silhouette, just barely discernible in the dim venue, which he would follow to the ends of the earth.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he’s standing in the doorway of an unoccupied lounge. The tables of polished mahogany and gold foil have become graveyards of empty wine glasses, but the couch in the middle of the room has been left pristine.

Only after he sits down does the lightheadedness hit, and it hits hard, hard enough to shut his eyes and furrow his brow. His brain swings around the inside of his skull like a pendulum.

There is a delicate brush of your finger against his chin, your quiet request for him to lift it up, and then something hard and cold comes to rest on his lower lip. Water surrounds his tonsils and slips down his throat. A few stray rivulets escape down the side of his neck, then disappear into the napkin that you have pressed upon the skin.

By the time he’s downed the whole glass, he can feel his wits beginning to return—with them, the rest of his senses. His eyes crack open again.

“Hot,” he whispers. “It’s hot.”

You move your hands to his shoulders. Moments later, his jacket is a leather mass over the back of the couch, and he feels his dizziness subside, his oxygen return. 

“Better?”

With the music so far away, he hears the concern in your tone with crystalline clarity. He leans over to press his lips to the underside of your jaw, conveying a silent message: better, now.

He didn’t have plans to spend the night backstage, but the premise seems riveting where he comes to lie. His head nestled in the plush of your lap, the rest of him stretched across the sofa, your hand carding through his hair with the soporific lull of a mellow tide.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles suddenly, and you look down at him, confused.

“For?”

“Getting so drunk.”

If your hand is the tide, your laugh is the sand, warm and ubiquitous and all-consuming. “You had a good time, yeah?”

A good time. What an understatement for the maelstrom of feeling still raging on within him, the happiness and disbelief and pride and gratitude to himself, to you. To us.

“The best,” he answers.

“That’s all that matters, then,” you hum, your thumb dusting over his hairline. “You deserve to celebrate.”

He’s still too drunk to really think, but he doesn’t have to think when it comes to you—just knows in the very wellsprings of his soul all the love you’ve woven into the thing you’re about to say, by the infinitesimal softening of your eyes alone.

“You deserve everything, baby.”

He lifts your wrist to his lips, presses a kiss to your pulse. Above him, your features blur, then come back into focus. His answer is so soft that he almost can’t hear it over the warble of his heartbeat and the descent of his tears.

“I’ve got it right here.”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up sharply as Alex stormed into her office, followed by a dozen DEO goons and a flustered, apologetic Jess as she flipped rapidly between apologizing to Lena for permitting the intrusion and shouting at Alex to get out, only to be ignored.

“Jess, it’s fine,” Lena said, calmly, though her heart was racing. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”

“Cover the entrances,” Alex told her men.

Even when balaclavas over their faces and goggles, Lena could sense their unease. The one who was unmasked -Lena vaguely remembered she was named Vazquez- gave Alex a plaintive, pained look before stepping out. The doors hissed shut behind them, and Alex was alone with her.

“We don’t have time for you to be argumentative.”

“What horrific crime did I commit this time?

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m taking you into protective custody.”

Lena put down her phone.

“What?”

Alex produced a tablet from the bag on her thigh and stormed over, hitting play on a video.

It was Lex. Lena’s stomach dropped.

“Hello, Director Danvers,” said Lex. “I hope this message finds you well, because none of you are going to be well much longer.”

A thought hit Lena like a freight train: If I’m in danger, where’s Kara? Even now Kara would drop everything, risk everything, to keep her from harm.

Lex opened a velvet box and drew out a small device. Lena recognized it and felt her gorge rising. It was another disperser, but something was wrong. The crystal within glowed a deep, scintillating red, like a hot coal drawn from a fire.

“Remember this?” said Lex. “You and the rest of this world are about to learn what happens when you trust an alien.”

“What the fuck?” Lena blurted. “He can’t be alive.”

Alex shook her head.

Lex slammed his fist down, and Alex turned it off.

“Well worry about your brother later. He spread red kryptonite into the atmosphere. We can’t find Kara and she’s not responding to our hails. We have to take anyone she might come after into secure custody where she can’t sense you and we have to go now.”

“But…”

“This shit drives her insane,” Alex snapped, seizing Lena’s shoulders. “The last time she was exposed she threw Cat Grant off a building. She almost killed me. ME, Lena.”

A cold flush ran down her limbs, as if she’d been thrown into the cold sea, and panic surged from deep down inside. The last time Lena had seen Kara it had been through Kryptonite-frosted crystal before she abandoned her in the fortress of solitude.

“Part of me wants to leave you here and let you get what you deserve,” Alex said, coldly, “but we are going to fix her and when we do she’d never forgive me for letting you get hurt. Even now she won’t let go of her feelings for you. She keeps talking about saving you.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Her what?”

“Lena, get up. For once in your life just cooperate and do what you’re fucking told before…”

Boot heels thudded on the balcony and dread could tight in Lena’s gut. It was a futile gesture but she stood anyway as Alex stepped between them.

The door was locked, but Kara didn’t care. She threw the door open, sending the lock mechanism flying across the room and cracking the bomb-proof glass on the process. Alex pulled her alien pistol and aimed it at Kara’s head.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Kara. I won’t let you do something you regret.”

Kara stared at her with bloodshot eyes, the ocean blue irises turned a bruise purple as red flashes danced across the whites, like the setting sun chasing across frosted snow. She moved with a languid, inhuman grace, at once casual and as menacing as a predator stalking prey that had no means of escape.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Kara,” Alex warned. “I know you’re in there. Come back with me.”

Kara ignored her, sweeping her aside with an outstretched arm. Alex went flying, crashing into the doors with a grunt, rolling to the ground unmoving.

“Kara,” Lena said calmly, backing away. “You hurt Alex.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Kara smiled at her, but there was none of her usual joy, her usual mirth, only a cold, vicious baring of teeth. Lena thumped against her bookcase and a model of the HMS victory that Lex gave her after he finished it toppled from the self.

Kara caught it and returned it to its place. She thrust her hands out, bracketing Lena as she leaned in, trapping her. Lena’s heart was pounding.

“You’re scared,” Kara said, “I can taste it in your pheromones. Did you know I can do that? I can sense your skin’s electrical impedance and see the heat bloom in your flesh and hear your heartbeat. If I focus very very hard I can hear brainwaves.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lena said, shocked at the smooth calm in her own voice.

“I knew it was a lie the whole time. I knew it was a lie from the night at the Pullitzer gala, when you really started loathing me.”

“Then why did you-“

“I didn’t want it to be a lie!” Kara snapped, jolting Lena as she pressed into the bookcase. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted finally be free of the pain of hiding myself from you.”

Behind them, Alex groaned as she sat up, staring at them with a thin trickle of blood running from her nose.

“Kara,” Lena said, very softly. “I can see that you’re sick . Let me help you. I can purge the red Kryptonite from your system in my lab.”

“Why would I want to purge it?”

“You hurt Alex. You love Alex.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You’re good, Kara. You’re so good. You’re the kindest, most merciful-“

“I’m tired of being kind!” Kara shouted, stinging her ears. “I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of taking bullets for people! Just because they don’t inure me doesn’t mean they don’t hurt!”

“I didn’t know that either,” Lena whispered. “I thought…”

“You thought nothing hurts me,” Kara said, leaning in close, so close her breath tickled Lena’s lips. “But you hurt me. You hurt more than anything. More than your brother, more than Reign, more than the clone. Dying don’t hurt as much as you hurt me.”

Lena spared Alex a glance. She was lying against the doors, holding her belly. She met Lena’s gaze levelly and Lena knew in an instant the danger she was in and the terrible truth.

She was the only one who could stop Kara.

“I know,” said Lena. “I know I did and it felt good when I was doing it.”

“Lena!” Alex gasped, “are you fucking crazy?”

“It felt good,” Lena said, trying to force the trembling out of her voice and failing. “It felt so good to lash out. I wanted to hurt someone. I want to hurt everyone. I wanted everyone to feel what I’m feeling. Especially you. I bet it felt a lot like what you’re feeling now.”

Kara’s eyes were wild with fury, moments from kindling the red-sun fire that would wipe Lena from existence.

“I never stopped believing in you,” said Kara. “I’m the only reason you’re not in a cell beneath a secret desert compound. All this time I’ve defended you and believed in you and protected you.”

“All this time?” Lena snapped back, fury kindling behind the terror, chasing it back as a fire’s light chases the dark.

She was Lena Luthor. She wasn’t going to die afraid.

“You mean all this time when you accused me of conspiring against you? When you suddenly turned cold to me after telling me how you believed in me? When you made my boyfriend spy on me and destroyed my relationship?”

Lena’s hands released the shelves she’d been strangling in twin death grips.

“I… I…”

“How was I supposed to react to learning that you were both people? After what you did? You should punish me, Kara. I’m a murderer.”

Alex gasped, eyes darting from Kara to Lena.

“I killed my brother for you,” Lena said, very softly. “I killed him because I had to. Because you never would. I’m not a hero like you. I’d do it again. I’d do it all again for you. Now I find out he’s still alive. I may have to. I will. I’ll make sure he’s dead this time!”

Kara blinked, her eyes steaming from the heat inside her as tears ran down her cheeks.

“It hurts,” Kara whispered. “It hurts seeing the truth. It hurts to know what I did.”

“I know how much it hurts,” Lean said, bringing her hands to cup Kara’s face lightly. She was shaking, feverish, her skin almost uncomfortably hot. Lena felt a touch of rising panic and forced it down.

“It hurts knowing that I broke up you and James on purpose. It hurts knowing why. It hurts that even now I can’t say it, I’m too scared.”

“I’m supposed to want you and not him,” Lena said.

Kara jerked back slightly, her eyes going wide. It was an admission without words, a confession to a crime she’d already admitted. She pressed her eyes shut and the tears flowed anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” said Lena. “It hurts, doesn’t it? The anger.”

“Yes,” said Kara. “It burns. It’s burning me up. I can feel it in my chest, like it’s turning my ribs to cinders.”

Lena nodded. “I came back for you.”

“What?”

“I came back for you. I went back to the Fortress. I was as going to let you out, accept the consequences of what I’d done, but Alex must have already found you.”

“She did.”

“She always takes care of you, doesn’t she?”

Kara blinked. “Yes.”

“It hurt the most then,” said Lena, “knowing that I’d made my choice and I couldn’t take it back. I planned it all for months. I lost myself in how good it would feel to make you suffer like I’m suffering. Then when I did it there was nothing. No joy. No catharsis. I just felt hollow.”

Lena sighed. “I fucked up. I ruined my life.”

She flinched as Kara’s too-warm hand brushed her cheek, her thumb grazing lightly over her chin.

“I would forgive you any trespass. I would never hurt you,” she said, even as she trembled with rage.

“I know,” said Lena.

“Part of me wants to.”

“I know. Kara, let me help you. Please. You’re sick.”

Kara looked at her and Lena wondered what was going through her head. Did she think it was all a manipulation, a ploy? Would she lose it and snap Lena’s neck, or whip her head with a burst of heat vision and burn them all?

“Okay,” Kara breathed.

Lena reached over and pulled the book on her shelf that opened with direct elevator to her private lab. It was a touch melodramatic, but hell, it was he office.

She gave Alex a glance, waiting for the nod before she stepped inside with Lena.

They rode down in silence. Kara fell back on Lena’s exam table and closed her eyes as Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest. The House of El rune on the machine glowed as it recalibrated itself and began purging the radiation from her system.

Lena knew it was working when Kara began to weep, her face twisting in a grimace of towering grief. When it was done, Lena carefully removed the device and brushed loose strands of hair from Kara’s eyes and gently wrapped her arms around her. Kara buried her face in Lena’s neck and sobbed, shaking the table with the fury of her sorrow.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered.

“I know,” Lena whispered, smoothing a hand over her head. “I know.”

“Is Alex…”

“She’ll be fine, her people have already taken her to the L-Corp infirmary. She’s fine.”

Kara’s voice was almost childlike. “Did I hurt you?”

Lena closed her eyes. “Yeah. You hurt me. It’s okay, darling. It’s going to be okay.”

Kara’s arms looped around her, tentatively. When Lena didn’t push her back, Kara relaxed into the hug.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shhh, I know. I know. I’m sorry too. I forgive you.”

“You can’t,” Kara whimpered. “You can’t just do that.”

“Yes I can. I’m so rich I can do whatever I want. Here.”

Without letting Kara go, she reached over and took Myriad, placing it in Kara’s hands.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lena whispered, as Kara hugged her tighter.

[marichild]

satosugu fics i entreat everyone to read

these are just some of the amazing fics I’ve read! I highly recommend every single one to my fellow satosugu lovers. you won’t regret it, I promise.

Carry Me Home by @valleykey [58.4k, completed, T]

The boy shifts on his feet. “The year is two thousand and eighteen? Common Era?” Slowly, smile still plastic on his face, Suguru faces Satoru. This fucking dumbass. “Satoru,” he says, dangerous edge to his voice, “what did you do?” Satoru makes some bastardization of a sound, half between a laugh and a cough.  “...Whoops?”  “I,” Suguru grits, pinching two fingers together, “am this close to mass murder.” He’s joking.  Probably.  ///OR: Shortly before Geto would have massacred a village, he and Gojo are thrust eleven years forward into a would-have-been future that Geto is conspicuously absent from.

愛のある場所; river of light (that brings me to you) by @yuzudetergent [66.8k, completed, T]

A lesson in love is a lesson in swimming. Except for Suguru, it's getting dropped into the deep end with the tide licking at his neck, no kickboard or life preserver keeping him afloat. (Or: This is how Satoru finds the ocean.)

achilles, only the dead stay seventeen forever by getou_suguru (dheiress) [7.9k, ongoing, T]

He looks like a little kid, insouciant and irreverent, smiling at you like that. This is how you want to remember him. “Winter snow melts into Spring, of course!” You open your mouth to laugh and laugh and laugh and— His breath tastes, inexplicably, like spun sugar and honey on your tongue.  (Gojou Satoru is not a God, not yet. But He will be and you think (you know) that you will be  the first to kneel in worship and offer Him your blood, your flesh. Build Him a temple inside the circle of your arms until He sinks inside your ribcage, there to dwell safe and sound and beating just for you.)  ((Pay attention, now. This is a story about how a boy—the Hallowed one, the enlightenment of all, the one who rose high above others, the one and only—fell.))

Always an Angel (Never a God) by 0atmlk [44.6k, ongoing, M]

"The first time I saw the sunset here, I wanted to send you a picture."  Suguru looked at him, surprised. "Why didn't you?"  "Because I knew you’d been here before on your own, it was probably something you'd seen plenty of times." Satoru paused. "But I almost did. Opened it and everything to send to you. Then I saw the date of the last message you sent. We were pushing year three. So I didn't." . . .  Suguru finds Satoru at fifteen. Satoru finds him at twenty-eight.

I’m Sorry: In Various Translations by @koifishscribbles [45.9k, ongoing, M]

The coffee in Satoru’s stomach curdles. He feels the weight of every one if those eight years roll through his entire body like an earthquake. All the missed sleep clings to his eyes, and the unsent texts threaten to erupt from his mouth. Getou Suguru. It is not that his stitches unravel. Those took years to craft, cinched with vitriol, and won’t be undone in a single moment. It’s his very being that unspools onto the dirty linoleum floor. He wants Suguru to pick him up and untangle the length of him. His fingers once again becoming familiar as they expertly craft him into something new, better.  —— Gojo Satoru has not seen his ex, Getou Suguru, since college. Until he shows up one day teaching in the classroom across the hall from him.

an anthology of bad ideas by ilovegetosuguru [9.5k, completed, gen]

Gojo panics and asks a very attractive stranger to be his fake boyfriend for a wedding.  Here’s the problem — there’s no wedding.  (Fake Dating AU)

april pink by @valleykey [3k, completed, gen]

“Dude,” Satoru says, first thing off the train, glasses sliding down, wide eyes peering over the rim, “you have, like, flowers. In your lungs.” “Oh really,” Suguru says, dry, “I hadn't noticed.”

Puppet On A String by @killjoyproductions [6.8k, completed, E]

“Huh,” he muses. “Are you… saving yourself for marriage?”  “Nope.”  “Are you asexual?”  Satoru shakes his head. “I’m not asexual, just a virgin.”

Autonomic Breath by finalproject [10.9k, completed, E]

She turns to Satoru and asks, "When did you know?"

Lies That Bind by Anonymous [48.1k, ongoing, E]

“Really now,” Gakuganji snorted, doubtful. “How convenient. Who is this alpha, then?” And of course, Satoru had seen that question coming as soon as his claim of having a mate was halfway out of his mouth, but by that point he was already talking and it was too late to stop. “So nosy.” He wagged his finger in a tut-tut motion in the geezer’s face, watching him turn a horrible shade of angry red. “It’s Geto Suguru, of course.” Satoru's sick and tired of all the higher-ups insisting he needs to find an alpha and settle down just because he's an omega, and the simple lie that Suguru is his mate seems like the easiest way to get some peace and quiet. What could go wrong?

like the tides, never standing still. by antepuer [1.1k, completed, T]

“I fucking hate it sometimes.” Suguru taps the ash off and looks at him. Puppy-dog eyes, has no idea what Satoru refers to, but it would be far from the first time. “What do you mean?” “Being queer.” He finally admits. “It fucking sucks.”

once we have sufficiently tortured one another by irrevenance [4.6k, completed, E]

Suguru’s throat goes dry. “You’re no longer a sorcerer,” he realizes, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat in response to the sick joke that has laid itself before him. “And you came to me?” “Yes,” Satoru says pleasantly. “What will you do about it,” and here he lowers both his eyelashes and his tone, a mockery of seduction, “Getou-sama?”

the dream house by irrevenance [6.1k, completed, E]

Suguru adopts two little girls, marries Satoru, and becomes a teacher. It’s not enough.

where shall we go tomorrow? by elivellichor [15k, ongoing, T]

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you want from me?” a raspy voice hisses, breath on the shell of his ear, knocking Suguru out of his daze. Suguru tilts his chin up to better meet his pursuit face to face and goes breathless. Enraged and fiery cerulean eyes stare down at him with a twisted expression. This child is undeniably Gojo Satoru. He can’t imagine any other with a disposition so fiery and confrontational.  Or: an indulgent age-regression fic featuring One (1) Baby Gojo Satoru and One (1) Very Tired Geto Suguru feat. healing <3

Caesura by @cielelyse [85.5k, completed, M]

The first time they meet, Suguru and Satoru do not like each other. Arrogant, cocky, insufferable, they think. Despite the smirks Shoko gives Suguru, or the sighs Yaga gives Satoru, they do not like each other. Until a mission changes that.

it's not gay unless the domains touch by @hollow-lime-green [40.2k, completed, E]

Funny thing is, when you put up walls made of infinity, you don’t expect people to start slipping in. And you certainly don’t expect to start wanting them to. Gojo Satoru never had a chance to get used to people touching him. Suguru gets that, and he’s happy to help. That’s what good friends do, right? Alternatively: Geto Suguru is the most oblivious man alive.

two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive. That’s how they got here. That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this.

BONUS! Baby Mine by @seaemberthesecond

There was something just slightly off in every interaction between Gojo-sensei and Fushiguro and once Yuji’d begun to notice it, he couldn’t unsee it. It wasn’t a bad kind of off – at least he didn’t think so – but it was just different from the way either of them acted around everyone else. * Or, Yuji's journey to discovering that Megumi is Gojo's baby boy, featuring: an insane amount of simping, the mundane indignities of being a parent, and a lot of Yuji snooping in places he really shouldn't be.

(aka, that fic I go back to all the time. gojo being megumi’s dad will never not be one of my favorite things ever.) (clearly)

[magics-neptunes-things]

Lucky Charm

Hi guys!

A new one with Kyra Cooney-Cross, I got sweet request for her so here it is :)

Next one will be with Leah Williamson.

Enjoy!

TW : None

This dating app thing was the worst idea. Beth told you, Lia told you, Kyra told you. Even Leah told you it was bullshit. But, stubborn and a little desperate, you decided to give this guy a chance. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

Contrary to what you had imagined at first, this boy seems actually interested only in the idea of returning home with you. And not to play Fifa. The remarks he tried to slip were as subtle as Katie’s two-legged tackle.

When he left to go to the bathroom, you are quick to send a message in the Arsenal's WhatsApp group.

From You Next time I don’t listen to you, please hit me hard in the head.

From Lia 🇨🇭🍫 Is he that bad?

From You Yes.

From Leah ❤️🤍 On a scale of 1 to 10?

From You 10. I NEED to get out of there.

From Alessia 🧸 What can we do to help you? Wait I’m with Kyra, we call you in 5min and answer with the speaker xx

Surprise, you frown but answer a simple ok. Your date has returned from the bathroom and is picking up the talking where he left it. It’s hard for you to care, despite all your good will. You are the type to think that there is something good in everyone, but right now you are frankly struggling.

"You marked on your profile that you are interested in women and men, right?"

"Mhm" you answer simply, carrying your soon empty glass to your lips.

"Cool. You’re not against a threesome then?"

You almost choke in your glass to this question, but you are saved from having to answer by your phone which vibrates on the table. Despite the relief of seeing « Kyra 🦘 » appear on your screen, you try to look surprised.

“Hello?”

You pick up and put the speaker on, as Alessia asked.

“Y/N?” makes Kyra’s trembling voice.

“Yes? What’s up sweety pie?”

“He…He left me.”

You stick your hand on your mouth to simulate the surprise but it's mostly used to mask your fun. Even if Kyra plays the comedy pretty good, you’re sure that she and Alessia are having a great time.

“Oh my God… You want me to pick you up? No you know what, I’m coming!”

Without taking the time to hang up, you quickly gather your things and put on your coat apologizing to your date. Which has a bitter look displayed on the face.

“I’ll call you back?” he says while trying to grab your hand

“Yeah sur”

You don’t even look at him and hurry out of the restaurant, breathing the fresh and cold London's air. The mixed laughter of Alessia and Kyra can be hear from your phone, making you smile.

"Thank you" you say, removing the speaker and putting the phone on your ear.

"You are very welcome" answers Alessia between two laughs.

"Where are you? I'll come to get you" Kyra proposes.

You hesitate two seconds before accepting. Kyra is one of the reasons you’re desperately trying to find someone. Between your breakup a few months ago and your stupid crush on her, you’re having a hard time keeping your head straight. But you finally accept her proposal and you wait for her in a parallel street, not wishing to meet your rejected suitor.

Kyra joins you on foot, which doesn’t surprise you. She likes to walk and given your Icelandic origins, you don’t mind the cold. So it's walking, hands in pockets, that you take the direction of your apartment with small talk and laughs.

A small moment of silence settles after a joke exchanged, during which you look up to the sky to watch the snow fall.

“Why did you accept this date?” Kyra abruptly asks.

You shrug and bite your bottom lip. You don’t want to make stupid excuses. Kyra knows about your break up and about you trying to find someone. Your love life always make your teammates laugh and it's so catastrophic that you laugh with them. But she doesn't know about your crush on her. You know she isn't interested in you.

"You should be with someone who appreciates you for who you are" continues Kyra. "Not someone who just want to bang you one night and leave you the day after."

"What a langage. You spend way to much time with Leah"

Kyra roll her eyes and as you turn to the next street, you both are facing small wood house with cute decoration. Christmas spirit. You love it.

"Hello there" smile the old lady, working in the stand.

"Hello" you answer with a smile, already looking at her stuff.

"These are wristband lucky charms" she explains

"Interesting. Do you have one for someone who only attracts losers?"

You shoot a glare at Kyra who got closer to the stand with a smirk. She looks at you maliciously and suddenly her body is too close to yours for you to continue to look at her in this way. So you just shift your attention to the old woman who laughed.

"Lucky charms like that are called loved ones"

She winks at Kyra and if you could have observed her better, you would have noticed the redness of her cheeks. When she takes another step to see a little better what is on the displays, her body is so close to yours that you need a few seconds to realize that you have let yourself go against her.

But Kyra says nothing, caressing one of the lucky charms with the tip of her finger.

"I like this one" she whispers thoughtfully, before resuming in a more assured voice "I'll take it, please."

In a few seconds the transaction is completed and the Australian finds herself with a small bag and her lucky charm in her hand. You say goodbye the lady and resume your way back to your apartment.

The snow continues to fall and a new silence sets in, always without being unpleasant.

"And on top of that, it was with a guy" Kyra says, your date always seems to be on her mind.

You laugh when you see her disgusted look, rolling your eyes.

"It’s okay, they’re not that bad."

"Oh please stop talking, you will succeed in convincing me to change my sexuality" laughs Kyra with sarcasm.

"It’s not exactly like I have a choice anyway" you sigh softly.

A few seconds go by before Kyra answers you.

"You are wrong"

"What?"

Her voice is so low that you can’t understand what she’s saying. Sighing, Kyra stops and crosses her arms on her chest, standing straight in front of you.

"There are people who care about you, you know. For what you are. You just need to open your eyes."

Your eyebrows are frowned and you have trouble understanding what Kyra is getting at. You’re so lost, you didn’t even realize you got to the bottom of your building.

"Close your eyes and extend your arm"

Nothing makes sense in what’s happening, but you do as Kyra’s request. You find yourself shivering stupidly when you feel her fingers touch your hand when she passes the wristband she just bought around your wrist.

"Don’t" she whispers when she realizes you’re about to open your eyes.

You realize at this moment how close she is to you, you feel her breath against your face and the heat of her body radiate towards yours. You swallow hard, but you don’t move. Your legs have become so limp that you wouldn’t be able to anyway.

You have the impression of dreaming when Kyra puts her lips on yours during the first seconds, so light is the pressure. You quickly understand that it's to let you push her away if you do not want this kiss. But she is wrong to doubt.

You get as close to her as possible and that’s what she was waiting to presses her lips harder against yours. And you’re suddenly happy to feel her arms move around your waist, or you could quickly faint. What you’re going to say is probably related to the many love stories you’ve read in your life, but you feel like your lips were made for hers. The way they marry together is a sensation you’ve never experienced before.

It's Kyra who ends the kiss first. When your eyes reopen, they meet hers, inquisitors. Snowflakes have settled in her hair and the colors of the Christmas lights color her face when she speaks again.

"I do care about you. You have no idea how much I do."

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 1 - El Paso

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut - MDNI

The darkness within her became his obsession. She was his. Didn’t she know? When Azriel spies his wicked mate with another male, when he kills that male, what he knows as life shifts eternally. No longer is there life. No longer is there death. There is only Felina. Felina who has many secrets.

Series Masterlist - Part 2

Warnings: threat of self-harm/suicide, assumed character death (you’ll see), implied rape/non-con (some gross, shitty males discussing it in a tavern), dub-con, violence, obsession, dark themes, sexual content

One hour ago

Rhysand

All Rhys knew was that when Azriel returned from what was supposed to be a short inspection of the Illyrian war camps, he was different. His shadows whirred violently; his eyes… there was a darkness in them that he’d not seen even within the depths of harrowing interrogations; and while his scent remained his usual cedar chilled mist an iron tang tinged it.

“Az?” Rhys asked cautiously, trailing his brother up the stairs

“Not now.” Azriel growled, clenched fists shaking, pupils blown wide, sweat beading his brow.

Rhys said nothing more, following the frantic male to his room. Well- until Azriel slammed the door shut in his face.

Message received.

A few minutes later, Azriel re-emerged into the living area, a packed duffel bag in tow.

“Az? Talk to me.” Rhys pleaded. Fighting against the urge to dive into his mind. Azriel’s shields were ironclad but Rhys could break through them if absolutely necessary.

“Just stop. I’m fine.” Azriel growled.

He sure as shit didn’t look fine.

“I need to go handle some personal things. I have never asked for leave for anything. Can you please just allow me a couple of weeks?”

The High Lord’s brows creased, voice raising “Weeks? With no provided reasoning?”

“I said that it was personal.”

“As your employer, I can accept that it’s personal. As your family, Az, come on. What happened?”

“I’m leaving whether you grant me this or not.”

Azriel and Rhysand had many battle-of-wills over the years but this was different. Rhys could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

And Azriel’s demeanor - Fuck, he’d always been dangerous but he was outright predatory in the moment.

Rhys shook his head. “I should kick your ass for talking to me like this but fine - go. Two weeks, Azriel, and then you’re back here or I tear the world apart looking for you. You aren’t abandoning us without reason. I will not accept it.”

Azriel’s only response was a tick of the jaw before stepping out the front door and launching skyward at breakneck speed.

Rhys spent the next hour nursing a glass of whiskey, fighting an internal battle of leaving his brother be or going to find him. Just when he began to lose that battle and head out searching, Cassian burst through the door. His hair disheveled from the wind and caked with blood, his eyes puffy and red as if he’d been crying the entire flight.

Rhys froze in his tracks at the sight of his brother who took a few steps forward before falling to the floor, knees giving out as he let out a deep, world-shattering scream.

Rhys sent his darkness to caress his mind, gently prodding for what could have left Cassian in such a state only to be met with crushing waves of grief. Rhys pushed his consciousness with great effort to cut through the viscous surge of emotion desperate for any sense of clarity.

He’d almost reached his own daemati limit when he was abruptly greeted by flashes of memory. Snow painted bright-red with blood. Azriel laying limp. Ash arrows littering his body. Lifeless hazel eyes. Long dark hair. Red lips. Eyes darker than night. Sounds of a female voice screaming. Tears falling onto blood coated hands.

Suddenly Rhys was thrust from Cassian’s mind as he fought against the induced slumber. Cassian’s body shuttered as tears broke free once again. His words slurred as he tried to communicate within his half dazed state, “Go. Ste-steppes.” Another broken sob. “Az is d- Oh gods!” He cried out. “Dead. And s-she’s”

“Who?” Rhys’ mind flashed to the female crouched over Azriel, screaming.

“Oh fuck, R-rhys. Go!!!”

Cassian fell back into his dream state before Rhys could press further.

Rhys willed himself to remain as calm as possible. Fighting to keep his mental voice steady before the grief could overtake him as he called for Amren and Feyre.

Elain, who had been in the garden, would stay with Nyx. Amren would keep an eye on Cassian and throw additional wards up, while Feyre retrieved Nesta from the House of Wind. Once Feyre returned she would be able to soothe his mind.

Feyre’s mental voice wavered, heartbreak surging through the bond at the news, but she agreed to keep details private until Rhys understood exactly what had happened.

——————

Three weeks ago

Azriel

War Camp inspections had a way of bringing out the worst in Azriel. As if his tolerance level for Illyrians was not already at a miniscule level, these inspections always seemed to inflate the egos of the Illyrians. Camp Lords and their cronies marching into meetings with puffed out chests and mouths spewing hatred particularly grated on his typically infallible patience.

Azriel had been staying at the River House for some time now, carefully avoiding Elain as much as possible, and trying his best to avoid giving Rhys anything to pull rank over. And fuck, he was so tired after a day of negotiations. With nothing but tension awaiting him at home and overwhelming fatigue, he found himself at a shitty Inn in the Illyrian Steppes.

He’d seated himself at a small corner table, shrouding himself in shadow as he observed the belligerent patrons of Rosa’s Cantina, a shoddy tavern attached to the Inn.

“Witch.” He heard a group of males call her. Their eyes fixed on a stunning female swaying her hips in time to the music flowing from a rickety piano at the front of the bar.

Remaining silent, the Spymaster listened to the ruddy males lecherous conversation.

“I wouldn’t mind being under her spell.”

“You’ll sooner find your balls nailed to a stake than completion - even with tits like that it’s not worth it.”

Azriel snarled to himself. Even outside of the Illyrian camps, the males in the Steppes were abhorrent. Backwards in every way. The woman continued twirling, her raven-black hair flowing with each movement of her supple body.

“Not if I tie her down first.” A burly male chimed in, his slurred voice gruff.

“I’ll bet you five marks that you won’t survive the encounter with all of your appendages.”

“Look at what the whore is wearing. She wants it whether she knows or not.”

The brute of a male stumbled up to her and Azriel sighed to himself, he really didn’t want to get into it tonight. But….

The male put his greasy hands on her and Azriel instantly jolted upright, preparing to step in. She tried pulling away as the male yanked her into him. The female whirled in his arms, looking up to him like a lover. The male immediately dropped his arms, palms in the air as if placating a wild animal, he began stepping away slowly. When he turned around, Azriel noticed the blood drained from his face as he threw gold marks on the table and immediately left the cantina. The males only laughed and went back to their drinking.

“Wicked Felina” they called her.

“Eh? How much money have you won off the males she scares away now?” One of the patrons chimed in.

“Enough to cover these boys.” The male slapped the new pair of leather boots adorning his feet.

Azriel hadn’t seen what the male saw in her face when she looked to him but his shadows whispered to him.

“Darkness”

“Like calls to like”

“Look”

And maybe it was the stale mead he’d downed but he did. He strode right up to the female and could have sworn he felt time stand still as the patrons of the bar watched.

He didn’t touch her, only spoke in a low tone, “May I have a dance?”

The female whirled towards him and Azriel had to fight to keep his footing steady. Before him stood the most breathtaking female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes met his and his heart sputtered as he stared into the depth of them. Blacker than night, constellations and blood and something “other” swimming inside of them. He could sense her darkness and instead of his typical urge to question, it drew him in like metal to a magnet.

As she took him in, he heard her heart skip a beat for only a moment, before that darkness invaded his senses once again. No, it wasn’t darkness to run away from at all. It was alluring, captivating, dangerous. And he wanted to drink it all in.

“You are a brave male.” She spoke with a slight, unfamiliar accent. So similar to those of Velaris but with something else mixed in.

Azriel’s shadows whirled around the female, winding through her hair and between her fingers. She didn’t balk from them, she only remained intensely focused on him.

Her scent surrounded them and he couldn’t breathe the female in deeply enough.

An hour later he found himself driving into her. Her breasts bouncing so beautifully that he nearly came from the sight alone. He’d spent so long fisting his cock as he fantasized of Elain that he’d forgotten just how glorious the feel of a tight cunt wrapped around him felt. And this female, Felina, her moans were like a sirens call, drawing him so deeply into her that he didn’t know where she ended and he begun.

He would have gone slowly with her, tenderly, worshipped every centimeter of cool, exposed skin, but she had begged him so prettily to fuck her until she forgot what she was. Who was he to deny a female who knew exactly what she wanted. He’d never fucked a female so hard and still she pleaded for more, sensing that he was holding back. When he finally let go of his restraint, he had to dig his nails into her moonlight pale flesh just to keep her from sliding away. She bit her lip and held his gaze through every thrust. Those damning eyes looking at him like she could read every fucking tendril of his own inner-void.

When she came, he came with her. The Inn shaking with the intensity of their combined orgasms. As he came down from the high, the darkness in her eyes banked momentarily a deep, blue flashing in them before once again overtaking them. He gasped sharply as a snap yanked in his chest. Gold tethering him to her.

“Mate” his shadows sang

“Our mate, our mate.”

Azriel’s breathing grew frantic. She climbed out of the bed, her exposed backside red from the slaps he’d pressed to her round ass. “Did you feel that?”

She turned her head over her shoulder, those eyes meeting his again. “Feel what?”

Azriel’s heart sank. “Nothing.”

“Hm.” She shrugged. “Intresting.” And poured a glass of water from a pitcher on an oak dresser with nonchalance. As if they hadn’t just had life-altering sex, like the ground itself hadn’t shook with the force of their coupling.

Her mouthwatering breasts bounced with each step toward him, her lightly toned abdomen baring silver, faded scars.

“Who gave you those?” Azriel asked.

“I’m as willing to talk about them as you are about those.” She nodded toward his hands.

Touché

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” She stated before bringing his head to her chest and running delicate fingers through his hair until he drifted into a deep slumber full of darkness and a golden thread.

When he woke, she was gone.

And he would have thought he’d dreamt it all, had it not been for the nearly-healed crescent moon imprint of her nails littering his body. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight.

He only hoped that next time she’d leave marks deep enough to scar. He should have staked his claim on her too.

——————

Two weeks ago

Azriel

He searched for her, frantically, day in and day out but she was nowhere to be found. How could he have found his mate and been so foolish to lose her in such a short period of time. He hadn’t even told her his name.

Eventually, he had to take pause, and venture into the camps due to a couple of missing Illyrians. Through his questioning, he’d found that the males were shaking, reporting a fanged creature that swept from the trees and picked off several of their men, one by one. When they returned to reclaim the bodies, all that was left were scattered body parts. Fingers, tongues, and cocks mostly.

He remembered the whispers in the taverns of “Wicked Felina.” Surely it was just paranoia.

Azriel returned to the tavern each night, hiding outside within his shadows. She was never there.

His patience was infallible, no amount of space or time would deter him. He would find his mate, he would embrace that pit of darkness dwelling within her - even if she were the creature the men were speaking of. She hadn’t hurt him, she’d only awoken something within him. His Felina may be dark but she is not the villain. She couldn’t be.

He pushed the sight of the ghostly pale brute running away from her at Rosa’s far into the back of his mind.

——————

One week ago

Azriel

Something tugged at him that night, urged him to find her again. Felina had become the focal point of his thoughts, consumed with her 24/7.

He was a desperate male, he wanted - no, needed - to know every piece of this dark anomaly. Mind, body, spirit. He’d sought someone whose light cast upon his obsidian soul for so long - finding hope in the radiant enigma that is Mor and the gentle, sweet presence of Elain. But all along the mother knew he needed someone who could step into his shadow and find solace. When Felina stared into his eyes, he knew she saw it, saw home. He saw it in her too.

She was so new to him and yet so familiar.

His brothers would tell him he was infatuated, that this was just another Mor, but they would be so far from the truth. This was a need, as essential to him as water or air. He thrummed with desire for his Wicked Felina.

She was the other half of his soul and he would not lose out on the opportunity to make her his.

Tonight was the night, she’d be there, he felt it deep within.

And she was.

Not inside. No, in a dark corner of the alley adjacent to Rosa’s Cantina. With a silver haired High-Fae male, nearly as tall as Azriel, muscled, well-groomed.

And she - her back was pressed against the wall. Her head flung back from the crook of his neck it where her face had been burrowed, pure ecstasy written all over those seductive features. A moan escaping her plush lips.

And then he saw it. Blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

No.

No.

This couldn’t be.

He HURT her. She didn’t want this. Didn’t she know that he was her soul-bonded mate? She wouldn’t fuck someone in the dark corner of an alley willingly.

Didn’t she know she was better than that? Didn’t she know she was everything?

Visions of the scars on her abdomen and of the male who joked about tying her down to have his way with her came to mind.

No. Not his Felina. Nobody would harm her now that she was his.

Azriel didn’t think further as he barreled for them, unsheathing truth-teller and slitting the males throat before he could even lock eyes with him.

Felina let out a quiet inhale of shock, onyx eyes blown wide.

“No. No. No.” She dropped to the male. Her nostrils flaring at the sight of him, his bloodied neck, checking for a pulse.

There was none.

Felina looked up to him with near-black, pleading eyes. “Azriel.”

And despite the peril of the moment, the fact that he clearly misread the situation, his name rolling off those pretty red lips made it all worth it.

Until the thought occurred to him. He’d never told her his name. “How?”

“Az….” Her voice cracked, the slightest bit of silver lined her eyes before darkness began radiating from her, rage filling those deeper than night eyes. Her voice became cold, deadly. “I told you that curiosity was dangerous.”

Shouts from bystanders rang out, creating panic among the villagers.

“You need to go now. They’ll recognize you.”

He paused, mouth gaping as she looked to him. He knew what she was saying but remained frozen in place.

“Azriel, please!” She cried.

There it was. His name again. Had she been as taken by him as he was by her? Had she sought him out too?

It was then that she unsheathed a dagger and held it to her own throat. “If you don’t leave, I will end it all right now.”

If he’d have looked closely, he would have seen the way her hand shook, the way she couldn’t quite touch the blade to her pale skin.

“I will find you again, Felina.” He vowed - threatened - Don’t even think about escaping me. You’re mine.

“Go.” She mouthed.

——————

Four hours ago

Azriel

Staying away for days was impossible. When she’s wander at night, he’d watch her from afar, remaining unseen. The small village mourned the dead male, apparently the esteemed ruler of this shit hole place. He caught glimpses of a mourning Felina. He felt something in the bond but he couldn’t quite make it out.

Resentment, perhaps? Jealousy? Longing?

And despite the black apparel she donned through the village, her face remained neutral with only a tinge of sadness.

Villagers whispered as she walked by. She paid them no mind.

He imagined they likely suspected the death was over her. Azriel’s shadows reported he had a wife. Why would his Felina sleep with a married male? If he was willing to cheat on his wife with her, he couldn’t have been a good male. Azriel did right by the females for eliminating him from the picture, right?

It was then that a flash of auburn appeared. The male’s wife with several large males behind her carrying torches. “Whore!” She spat. “Only fucking my husband wasn’t good enough, was it?”

“You had to sleep around with another male, one you surely had under your spell, just as you had with mine. You vile witch! And now my husband is dead because some enchanted soul grew jealous over you. You will burn for this!”

Suddenly she was placed in shackles, his shadows zooming into her vision. She must have noticed them as she whipped her head searching for him. She mouthed “no”, shaking her head in the direction his shadows raced off to. They came back.

“Blue not black. Blue not black.”

“Still beating. Still beating.”

“Mate. Mate. Mate.”

It was then that wings burst out of her back. Like Illyrian wings but white, the light casting a holographic range of gentle hues of blues and purple, and pinks. Talons emerged from her nails, but her lovely face remained impassive.

His shadows stirred aggressively.

“Alike. Alike. Alike.”

Another shadow shot back to him, beginning to report something when Azriel saw the pyre lighting in town as the villagers threw obscenities in her direction.

Felina held her head high, accepting her fate so easily.

The fire grew and Azriel once again acted on instinct. They couldn’t take her from him. And to burn her? Rage roared within him.

Azriel flew in, obliterating the large males jerking her toward the fire.

“The Shadowsinger!” someone cried out. Azriel saw nothing but Felina and the rising flames. Never would his mate be subjected to licks of flame marring her flesh. She was far too precious to burn.

Anyone who tried to lay hands on he or Felina were eviscerated. “The key!” She cried, pointing to a dead male. She ran toward it. Azriel launched in front of her, his speed overtaking hers as he retrieved it. She caught the key but her talons made it impossible to unlock the chains quickly. Azriel grabbed the key, unshackling her, the talons and wings disappearing.

“We have to go!” She shouted. Azriel caught her, launching skyward, right as an arrow shot toward them, and straight into Azriel’s back. He fought through it, he had to get her to safety. Another arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing Felina. The attempt on his mate triggering a knee-jerk reaction in Azriel who turned to send a blast of power at the bastard shooting the arrows.

He was struck in the side as another arrow met him. Azriel shot another blast of power in the direction that it came from.

Azriel could feel power rumbling under Felina’s surface. “We don’t have time! You’re hurt.”

Azriel bit back a cry at the pain radiating through his body, the blood not slowing as it should. He began feeling faint, fevered. He struggled through it, needing to make it as far away as he could but his vision began to blur as his body weakened. Felina was crying out something but he couldn’t hear her. All there was was pain and the cool press of her body against his. Gods, she was so cold.

“We need to land, Azriel! You can’t make it further.” She commended. He felt the sting of her palm on his face. “Wake up! Land!”

The slap along with her frantic voice roused Azriel enough to land them, very roughly. He crashed down on top of her.

“Felina….” He rasped.

“Shh.” She hushed him. “Save your breath. I’m okay.” Reassuring him through staggered breaths. “We need to get you to help.”

Azriel placed a hand on hers. “Too far. There’s nothing.”

“There’s got to be something!” She choked out.

Commotion erupted from the trees as a group of males from the village drew toward them. Their torches lighting the night and their bows drawn and ready.

Azriel used the little remaining might he had to push himself up. Felina throwing herself on top of him, her hands coated in his blood.

“I’m sorry for this, Azriel.” She spoke and ripped the poisoned arrow out of him, stabbing it right into her bicep. “Fuck!” She cursed. Suddenly the talons and wings were back. Her scent shifted into something so fucking familiar that it made Azriel’s heart ache, and screams echoed as she shot bursts of power at them. The range was short and the damage limited but it slowed them.

A commotion distracted the group of males as flares of red shot from the brush. A large winged male approaching from the night.

“Cass.” Felina whispered in awe.

Azriel’s vision went dark again, his conscious only picking up on words as the males screaming became less and less with each blast of power from Cassian and Felina.

A light caress came over Azriel’s mind, stroking it into submission, his pain easing. This was it. He wasn’t going to make it out of here.

And at that moment the caress broke free, Felina releasing a piercing scream. He tried moving, tried to console his mate, but the arrow that had just lodged in his heart was too much.

Azriel fought to see her one last time, her darkened eyes now shining like the night itself.

“Mate.” He whispered.

“I know, Azriel. I know.” She sobbed. Caressing his face with those delicate, chilly hands.

All Azriel remembered was the darkness embracing him once again. The pain easing as he heard Cassian’s voice.

“How?” Cassian’s booming voice cracked.

“Later, Cassian. He needs help.” Her voice was so pitiful. Broken.

Azriel’s breathing grew so shallow, that sweet darkness lulling him, even his shadows were silent. All he saw in his mind was her but she was fading. Her touch no longer registering to his senses.

He tried fighting it but there was no use as Azriel took his final breath.

“He’s dead, Cassian.”

——————

Two hours ago

Cassian

Cassian had never flown so fast in his life.

Oh gods, his brother was dead. The female, she refused to leave his side until he left to get Rhys.

His mind roared at him that he should have brought her with him. But why? Who was she?

Who was she to Azriel?

All he could remember as the tears flowed freely was that his brother was dead. That he heard the call for help from the village, that the Shadowsinger had gone mad, only to find a group of men on the attack and his brother incapacitated.

He had to get to Rhys quickly and let him know about Azriel, about the female.

——————

Present

Rhysand

Rhys winnowed to the vicinity of where Cassian had been in the memories when he’d held his mind. He flew until he found the bodies of several men. This was the clearing Cassian had been in and in the center of the clearing was caked blood.

Caked blood and no Azriel. No female.

But the blood, there was so much. He couldn’t have survived.

Right?

——————

Two hours ago

Azriel

The darkness on Azriel’s mind eased only slightly. The crippling pain too much to bear.

He opened his eyes to his version of heaven, to his mate’s face. The arrow removed from her arm.

He was in so much pain only managing to rasp out, “Can’t leave you.”

“You have to make a choice now.” She cupped his hand. “There was no other way.” She spoke to herself more than him. “There’s no way Cassian could have made it back in time.”

She was trying to convince herself. His decision was already made.

She shook her head, bracing herself for his response. “You have only a few moments left.”

The black fog cleared from his mind, every ounce of pain returning, but his eyes opened.

“Look at me, Azriel.”

He blinked and where her canines had been were sharp fangs. “I can save you but I can’t guarantee this existence is worth it. I am still figuring it out for myself.”

To his credit, Azriel didn’t balk. A chance to be with his mate… his Felina. He groaned as he turned his head, exposing his neck to her.

“Azriel, if I do this. You are bound to me. I know I’m your mate but you don’t know me. What if I’m… too much? Can you bare that?”

He tried to speak. She would never be too much. He only kept his neck exposed, a warning rattle escaping his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, as she pressed her fangs into his neck.

Blinding light erupted through him along with the worst pain he’d felt in centuries. Tears fell from those otherworldly eyes of night onto his neck.

He fought through the pain, biting back screams. He would be strong for her.

As she drank, she caressed his hair. A slight whimper and the scent of arousal escaping her. She tensed as she recognized the scent. And he could feel a hint of shame from her end of the bond.

Azriel had only heard legends of vampyr’s. Stories told in the camps to scare children who were prone to wandering off and now here she was feeling shame for her own body’s response to having him at the most intimate level.

As she drank, little gulps escaping her, he felt his strength returning. He raised a hand and grabbed her breast, massaging it as she lapped at his blood. A silent communication that whatever she was feeling did not frighten him, was not unwelcome.

Her body relaxed only slightly but he could sense her relief.

The pain began subsiding and Azriel’s strength had already returned in full, in excess, even.

Her drinking slowed and she fought against the urge to keep drinking, the greedy need for blood raging through her.

Azriel raised his hand from her breast to her face, stroking his thumb across her cheek. She leaned into it, grounding herself.

Suddenly she pulled herself off, gasping. Her chest heaving. Pain filled her eyes as she stared up at him. But he felt… incredible. Euphoric.

And there his mate was, reeking of sweet arousal. Chest heaving. Trickles of blood dripping from her mouth.

“You have to go now, Azriel. Get what you need and come back to me.”

He could hardly think. His need to be inside of her overwhelming every sense.

“Azriel. Listen!” She spoke firmly. “You have a couple of hours at most. Go home, get any healing tonics or sedatives that you may have, clothes, and blankets and come right back here.”

“I don’t-“ he started.

“You will. Can you still winnow?”

Azriel nodded. Had he winnowed in front of her before?

“Go. Now. Before Cassian gets home and bombards you with questions.”

Azriel didn’t want to leave, growing irate at the thought of it.

“I know it’s hard for you to leave. It’s a culmination of our newly tethered bond and likely the mating bond, Azriel.”

He stayed in place.

Finally she approached him. Staring straight past his eyes and into the depths of his soul as the urge to obey her taking overtook him. “Go now.”

Without another word, he left, winnowing directly to the River House, collecting a bag, and leaving Rhys with far too many questions. He prayed to the mother that he wouldn’t track him.

——————

One week later

Azriel

She’d begged him not to take her but she was declining far too quickly. They’d spent the past seven days in a daze. He had quickly gone from euphoric to delirious once returning from the River House.

And just as he’d made a life altering choice to be eternally bonded to her when she’d turned him, Felina made the choice to accept the mating bond by allowing him to feed off of her.

The combination of blood lust and the mating frenzy sent him into a spiral. They barely talked in the past few days, they’d have eternity to do that. He spent more time inside of her than out but she… she refused to feed off of him, citing that it was too risky with his newly turned state. When he wasn’t rutting into her, he was hunting for game but the blood wasn’t enough for her. He cursed himself for taking so much of her blood in his frenzied state.

She repeatedly asked that he not take her to his family but they would understand. It was the only option at this point. Her scent began shifting into that strange familiar aroma again, the darkness of her eyes swirling with flecks of blue. That “other” aspect to her diminishing slightly.

As she fought her consciousness, she barely managed to whisper “There’s more.” before going unconscious.

He’d waited so long to find his mate.

She’d saved him.

He didn’t want to go against her wishes but her condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her fever raising, her once-cool skin now burning as whimpers escaped her lips.

He did the only thing he could and prayed to the Mother that Felina would forgive him.

He flew her home.

They landed on the River House lawn in the middle of the night. Rhys appeared with a crack of thunder to confront the threat that breached his wards. Feyre, Elain, Cassian, and Nesta rushing out behind him, their eyes wide with shock.

Rhys shuddered, falling to his knees before his brother. “Azriel. Thank the mother you’re home.” He sobbed.

Felina let out a pitiful moan. Sweat beading on her brow. Her cool skin now radiating waves of heat. She slowly, weakly opened her weary eyes, the swirling black now bleeding into a blend of ultraviolet blue.

Rhys approached the female in his arms, Azriel tightening his grip on her. Time stood still as Rhys gently touched her face, carefully turning her head toward him. His face of relief crumpling into something earth shattering, the mountains quaking as he fell to his knees.

Azriel started, “This is Felina, my m-“

Rhys interrupted shaking his head as let out pained, joyous laughter. “No, Az.” He choked out. “Not Felina.”

Fighting to regain composure, Rhys clarified. “That’s Y/N.”

Azriel gasped as those now violet-blue eyes peered up into his, his jaw dropping as he carefully went to his knees with her in his arms.

That scent. Those eyes of night. Azriel’s mate was-

Rhys gave a disbelieving smile his voice again breaking at the sight before him.

“My sister.”

——————————————

A/N: Thank you for reading! For now, this is a one-shot. I have left openings in the story with the potential for it to become a series or at least part two with an explanation but have not yet decided.

This fic is loosely inspired by an old-western song called “El Paso” that I listened to growing up with my grandmother. The song is where I chose my pen name of “Felina” from. You may also recognize “Wicked Felina” as the title of the final episode of the show “Breaking Bad”

ACOTAR general tag list: @lilah-asteria

[arch3ontumbl]

World Bearer Part 1

Bearing his child as he was fighting in Shibuya

It wasn't intended neither it was accident, the child you caress in your womb, it was the result of love. A couple of days earlier barely even recalling the dates, news came unto you as Shoko informed you of Gojo captured, impossible..

He promised

He always promises y/n, you thought to yourself having filled with worry and doubt this time the result would be different, this time he wouldn't be able to be by your side, the last smile he gave you, the last kiss, it floods all to your every bit of sanity left.

You wept unsure of what to do, this is bad for your child. It's stressing you out knowing you can't do anything and you can't ask anyone about it. It pains you that you cannot be beside him nor come to his rescue, you carry the world inside you and you can't risk to lose any of which.

Your whole relationship with him was hidden deeper than 6 feet graves could even speak, only Shoko were informed and were supposed to be the only person besides him to assist you on giving birth.

'missed a call from Shoko'

You missed her first call as you were to focused on picking up some shards of glass, you dropped the mug you and Gojo share for every morning coffee.

Broken. You struggle to bend down as your belly bump is clearly on the way, you stood up and checked your phone to your surprise

Is it finally good news

You called back as she picked up in a hurry, she seemed to hesitate to tell, she hesitated to cause anymore stress than to bear the very weight of the next possibly most powerful sorcerer to mankind in the next generation. Even the weight of the child causes a wave of imbalance in the world between curses and the burden of being expected to be the sword and shield for the most dangerous circumstances awaits your child if his birth were to be exposed and known to the world.

It's what Gojo went through afterall

"y/n listen, Gojo is out now and currently facing curses and possibly Sakuna. I am called for support for the sorcerers in Shibuya—" she paused for what seemed eternity, fueling my anxiety and worry.

"y/n I just wanted to tell you to worry a bit less, he told me to relay you his message: I'd win, I'd be there when our son is born. I'm the strongest afterall" Shoko whispered to the phone as I let out a little chuckle still with a hint of nervous yet comfort. Atleast feel a little ease for the child you bear, for the child you birth with Gojo beside you.

"Thank you Shoko" I whispered back, your voice crack and break devours the silence of the room.

2 hours pass, and shit you feel building up contractions, painfully telling you your world is about to arrive. You rush to get some lukewarm water, a damp towel, quickly sterilize some scissors and a warm blanket

Yet he is not here, he's in battle, fighting

Unable to contact anyone else you try to reach for Shoko again. Afraid, you're just straight up afraid. Your timing your contractions yourself as you lay down your soft bed sheets, slowly painting it with blood. Gojo is in his battlefield and so are you, you combat the pain as you try to push harder and harder not trying to pass out on the way.

One

Two

Three

You push, again

One

Two

You push, you can't stop here. Your child needs to get out now

You gave another hard push screaming your lungs out, cursing, fist balled in the sheets as the other scratched the bed board.

Finally, a cry

Don't faint, don't faint

You pick yourself up, positioning yourself to sit back at the bed frame for support. Picking up your child and expertly cutting his umbilical cord before you could finally fix your eyes on your child you made sure to hear his heart beat, your scared you did a step wrong.

But his heart beat as loud as he cried, you admire your child clearly reassembling your husband. His hair and the same goes for his eye lashes, white as snow, his eyes with a hint of you a hue of purple and mainly the blue skies, high and mighty, adding the captivating and deep capture of the ocean you admire from Gojo.

You cried, as your child slept in your arms. A call notifies your phone enough for you to immediately answer before it wakes up your son.

"He's here" you said as Shoko could picture your smile from the phone call before she could even speak a word, her seconds of silence sends you a break of her heart like she's about to break another bad news for you.

[valeriianz]

Here’s another half-formed dreamling fic with them stuck in a snow storm while flurries currently whistle past my windows (and cover my screens in white).

Dream, sitting on the floor of his kitchen, surrounded by candles because the power is out, and sipping a glass of red wine. He’s bundled in a blanket and desperately failing to conserve battery on his phone, by texting Hob, who’s also lost power.

Dream slouches back against his oven, of which the burners are on to give off some blessed heat (thank God his oven is gas), while he reads the latest message from Hob, lamenting how bleeding cold it is in his own apartment, a newly renovated chrome building on the edge of the city, where everything, including the heat, was electric.

Dream mourns for him, even though Hob makes light of the situation with his witty texts and flirtatious hints of how Dream could warm him up.

They’d only been on a handful of dates, not yet fallen into bed together… Dream awkwardly explaining to Hob that it took a while, if at all, for sexual attraction to form within a new relationship. Hob had, surprisingly, taken it in stride. Becoming patient and thoughtful, always communicating, and never pushing Dream’s limits. 

It was refreshing, and– to Dream’s complete surprise– he’d found himself falling hard for the other man. Who knew a simple acknowledgment to boundaries would get him so wound up? His pulse quickened with every smile Hob gave him, his stomach tying itself in knots whenever Hob would take his hand, and his brain completely shutting off when Hob would kiss him. Chaste things that had progressively turned more and more heated with every encounter. Promising something more and more each time they met.

Currently, the sounds of his windows rattling from the flurries outside fill his dark apartment, along with the flutter of the open flames on his stove, and the quiet drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap (to prevent frozen pipes, Dream had learned that lesson the hard way last winter).

After about an hour of texting Hob, Dream nearly halfway done with the bottle of wine, he receives a text that makes his heart jump.

So, what if i told you im actually outside your building?

Dream stood up so suddenly the candles around him nearly snuffed themselves out.

He yanked on his boots and pulled on his oversized winter coat, stumbling to his front door and marching down the stairs of the apartment complex he resided in, the age of which you could smell in its walls, see in the cracks and warps in the wooden floors. He made it down to the entrance and pulled open the door, the ice cold wind smacking Dream in the face immediately.

But then he saw a smudge of brown in the whiteness approaching. Dream kicked down the snow that had piled up at the door and waded forward in knee deep snow to meet Hob halfway and help him past the threshold.

Once the door slammed shut behind them, Dream took a proper look at Hob.

“You look like the abominable snowman.”

Hob laughed. He was absolutely covered in snow, piled high on his shoulders, his boots, even on his eyelashes.

“I feel like one.” Hob said, his voice cracked and breathless.

Once they’re back inside Dream’s apartment, and Hob’s outer layers have been stripped off and hung in the shower to drip dry, Dream sets off to boil water on the stove top for tea.

They sit on Dream’s couch, sharing a blanket and sipping tea while Dream admonishes Hob for coming out in the middle of a storm. What was he thinking?? To which Hob just shrugs and curls his nearly numb fingers around the hot mug, snuggling even further into Dream’s side and sighing.

“Worth it, to see you.”

“You’re insane,” Dream says, but smiles through it. 

Hob’s skin glows with the orange and yellow flickering of the candles, his features softening and barely noticeable in the limited light. But Dream knows them by now. Knows the curve of Hob’s thick, dark eyebrows, down to the scruff of his jaw, and back up to the prominent shape of his nose. He’s always handsome, but right now, shadowed in soft light and his cheeks still pink from the cold, he’s lovely. And Dream can’t help but set his mug down, taking Hob’s as well, and kissing him.

His lips arm warm from the tea, and he tastes of lavender and honey, and it makes Dream want. Want to climb onto Hob’s lap and crawl inside him. Make a nest for himself– warm and safe and cared for under Hob’s breast bone. There he could listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart, how it thunders now, under Dream’s hand as he caresses down Hob’s sweater and gets teasing fingers under the hem, touching the soft flesh of his hips and stomach.

Hob moans into his mouth, making Dream’s skull vibrate and he nearly gives in, something dark and unknown swirling in his lower belly that drives his fingers to press harder, feel the texture of Hob’s skin, the smattering of hairs at his stomach, but he forces himself to slow down, to take it easy, to enjoy and luxuriate in what they have now. 

Hob, miraculously, follows along. His own hands cupping each side of Dream’s head and only getting his fingers in his hair, matching Dream’s pace, kissing back with no intention of more unless Dream initiated. Moving his mouth at Dream’s pace, breaking apart and nudging his nose and lips under his jaw and nuzzling behind Dream’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.

“Dream, Dream…” Hob mumbles, seemingly content in just kissing, just holding one another. “I could do this for hours.”

Dream grips the hem of Hob’s sweater, holding tightly as to prevent himself from ripping it off Hob. Another time, very soon, he knows. Dream has every intention to give into the temptation that is Hob Gadling, but the waiting is so much more fun. The anticipation, the slow understanding of his own feelings brimming up to the surface, will be that much more satisfying when he’s certain Hob will reciprocate them.

Hob just might love him back, right now. But Dream waits. Though, he does allow himself a confession:

“I could do this forever.”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

SHDNDJ IVE BEEN CALLED FOR YPU DONT KNOW HOW SPECIAL THAT MAKES ME FEEL OMG🤭 LOVE YOUU!!

ok so these are kind of just half-ideas that I’ve thought of that aren’t fully formed but I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something with your giant amazing brain😍 feel free to disregard these tho they’re kinda trash

- sejanus being really flirty with reader at the club place while he’s in district 12 (idk if that really fits his character but I feel like he could get bold at times🙏) and she’s just not really connecting the dots. her friend Lucy gray has to flat out tell her and reader has a giant revelation

- reader catches snow recording sejanus’ conversation about the rebellion and calls him out for it, stands up for her mans

-ok so this is kind of a song prompt— “Dear Arkansas Daughter” by Lady Lamb specifically the line “you with the dark curls, you with the water color eyes” not really sure what you could do with that, but maybe something with capital!sejanus w/ his curly hair

hope these give you some inspo pookie!!

love,

pooksters 💖

Your ideas are not trash!! Please feel free to send more or just to hop into my ask box to chat <3 I went with the first idea because it’s adorable but I might come back and write the other ones at some point

If the day that Lucy Gray was reaped was the worst day of your life, then the day that she miraculously returned to District Twelve as victor of the Hunger Games was the best. Ever since then, you spend most of your nights at the Hob with the rest of the Covey, sometimes taking the stage yourself but most of the time dancing and clapping from the audience.

Peacekeepers off duty are a normal sight in the Hob, but there are two in particular that seem to have a connection with Lucy Gray, two Capital boys that she knew during her time in the Games. You’re not sure how they came to be peacekeepers stuck in District 12, but you know better than to ask. They’re nice boys, and the blond one, Coriolanus, is absolutely smitten with Lucy Gray, you’re sure he’d do anything she asked. The other one, Sejanus, seems to have less of a connection to Lucy Gray but he’s kind all the same, and most nights he spends at the Hob are spent talking with you at a back table, away from the stage and the dance floor.

Tonight, Lucy Gray is taking a night off from performing and has joined you and Sejanus as you watch the rest of the Covey, Coriolanus never far from her side.

“I like your dress,” Sejanus says over the music, leaning over to speak into your ear so you can hear him clearer.

“Thank you, I made the one Maude Ivory’s wearing too,” you gesture towards the stage where the younger girl is busy singing.

“You’re very talented,” Sejanus turns to face you, giving you his undivided attention despite everything that goes on in the Hob.

“Oh, it’s not as hard as it looks,” you respond with a smile before pushing off the wall and heading to the bar, leaving a giggling Lucy Gray to deal with a despondent Sejanus.

“You’d think a girl as pretty as her is used to all the compliments and the flirting, but you’ve gotta be more obvious than that,” Lucy Gray tells him with a mischievous smile, as if you’d rather have the floor swallow you whole than have her share this information. Before Sejanus can respond, you’re returning with a tray of drinks for everyone in your little group, and he just about melts with the smile you give him as you slide the glass into his hand.

“Maybe, if you’re not busy, you could show me around some time? I’d really like to learn more about twelve,” he asks, and you’re quick to nod in agreement.

“Oh sure, I can show you all the best spots,” you reply kindly, but Lucy Gray knows you’re still not getting the message.

“He means you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen,” she whispers into your ear, loud enough for Sejanus to hear, “and the sweetest and the funniest and the most talented.” You look to Sejanus with wide eyes, as if Lucy Gray would be lying, but he’s nodding at you, despite the blush that’s taken over most of his face.

“Well, I’d still love to go,” you tell him, rewarding with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. The two of you spend the rest of the night talking, the chaos of the Hob fading into nothing while Lucy Gray silently watches with a smile.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ impossible ] t. seguin

day eleven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Tyler Seguin x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) is surprised when ex boyfriend Tyler knocks on the door of her parents’ house on Christmas Day

warning(s) : angsty, but nothing besides that

author’s note : last two fics of the christmas marathon. let’s do this

༺═──────────────═༻

She has never been happier to be home in Toronto. (Y/N) loves living in Dallas, but the last few weeks haven’t been the best. Being surrounded by family should help her out of the post-breakup funk she’s been in recently.

Even now as she's sitting in the living room with her family in her Christmas pajamas and opening their gifts, she misses Tyler. She misses her old life with Tyler, but she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't keep doing the distance.

He was away more often than he was home. When he was home, he went out with his teammates after games or on off days. She'd often go weeks without seeing him because he'd stay over at a teammate's house.

She wasn't equal with hockey anymore. Not like she used to be. She got tired of it.

She never gave him an ultimatum because she could never make him choose between her and hockey. (Y/N) made her feelings known and Tyler didn't seem to care, so she has been living with her best friend in Dallas and came home for Christmas a week ago. She stopped answering Tyler's texts and calls so she hasn't even talked to him in nearly two months.

Her family doesn't notice that something's wrong. (Y/N) does her best to keep a smile on her face and interacts with her nieces and nephews as they open their gifts. No one has asked where Tyler is and she is very much grateful for that.

As (Y/N) opens a gift from her mom, there's a knock on the door. Her mom goes to answer it as she opens the box that contains a Dallas Stars customized jersey that has her last name above the 91. "Tyler!" her mother shouts from the front door. "It's so nice of you to join us. We didn't think you'd be joining us."

Her head snaps toward the door so quickly that she thought for a split second that she gave herself whiplash. She's very surprised to see her ex standing at the front door of her parents' house in Toronto.

"I needed to go see my parents before coming over," Tyler says as he looks right at (Y/N). "Sorry I'm late. I forgot how insane Toronto traffic can be."

Words cannot express how angry and annoyed she is that he is at the door. She thought that he would've gotten the message that she was done when she didn't talk to him for two months.

Apparently not because there he stands in a Stars hoodie and plaid pajama pants with a bag full of gifts at the front door.

She gets up off the floor and pushes Tyler out the door without a word to anyone. It closes behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the cold Toronto air. Snow is on the ground and she's outside in a tank top, fuzzy pajama pants, and slippers. (Y/N) can't even feel the cold because of the fact that she is fuming.

"You have no right showing up," she spits at him. "We haven't spoken in two months and you show up at my parents' house."

Tyler blinks and says, "Last time I checked, you're the one that stopped talking to me. I don't remember being told that I wasn't allowed to come to Christmas because you stopped answering my texts and calls."

"We're done, Tyler," she tells him. "In case that wasn't clear."

"You're done," he retorts. "I'm not. I don't understand why you just up and left."

"I told you why!" (Y/N) practically shouts. "You're gone for weeks at a time, Tyler. The only time I get to see you is when we're separated by a thick piece of glass while I'm sitting in the stands and you're on the ice. You used to spend off days with me, you used to come home to me and we'd watch a movie on the couch or in bed. Then you decided to go out after every game or go out on off days."

He runs a hand through his hair and says, "I am a leader, (Y/N). I was never around my team. I needed to show them that I am still a leader and I couldn't do that when I was cooped up at home with you. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating and all of a sudden, you can't handle it anymore?"

Anger courses through her veins. Her blood is boiling to the point where the snow might melt around her. "No," she retorts. "I can't do it anymore. You used to make time for me and now you're a ghost. I was living in a shell of our past life together while you seemed to be moving on. I was alone in that apartment. It was like I didn't have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal if I left."

A look of hurt flashes on Tyler's face. "Of course it would be a big deal if you left," he softly says. "I love you. I miss you."

She shakes her head and does everything she can to keep the tears from spilling over to her cheeks. "You didn't listen," she tells him. "I told you how I felt and you still went out that night after the game. I made the decision to leave because I knew that if you went out after I told you how I felt, you'd keep going out. I couldn't do it anymore."

Tyler frowns and says, "I went out to tell the guys that I wasn't going to be going out as much with them after games and on off days. That is the only reason I went out. I was gone for thirty minutes. When I came back to the apartment and you were gone, I realized that I didn't tell you that I'd be right back."

"I- you-" she cuts herself off when she realizes that if she had just stayed around for an hour, he would've been back. "Why didn't you just text that to me?"

"I thought that you'd be back," he admits. His eyes fall to the ground. "I didn't think you'd ignore me for two months. I didn't think it would take you a half hour to pack a bag and leave. I should've told you that I'd be right back."

A tear slips down Tyler's cheek. Her own tears begin to fall when she sees Tyler's tears. "Tyler, I'm so sor-"

"It's not your fault," he interrupts her. "Don't you dare apologize. We wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just realized how lonely you were or if I had just told you that I would be right back. I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have come up here to try and fix things but I couldn't let you spend Christmas thinking you did something wrong when you didn't."

She takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso. Tyler's free arm wraps around her shoulders as she buries her face in his chest.

They've both done a lot wrong the past few months, but all they can do now is acknowledge what they've done wrong and move past it.

Hopefully Tyler's season can recover too because despite not being together, (Y/N) did keep an eye on his stats. He really began to fall apart a week after she left the apartment and has never been able to get it together.

That's all on her.

"Sorry your season has gone to shit," she sniffles as she looks up at him. "You can blame that on me."

Tyler shakes his head and cups her jaw with his free hand. "I'll never blame how good or bad a season is going on you," he tells her. "That will never be on you.'

A gust of wind blows and she shivers. Tyler wraps his arm back around her shoulders and holds her close to him. "I'll blame myself enough for both of us," she says. "Can we go inside?"

"As long as you're not done," Tyler replies. "I came up here to fight for us and I won't go inside unless you tell me that we can go back to how things were, minus my going out all the time."

(Y/N) looks up at him and nods. "I'm not done," she practically whispers. "Even when I said I was done, I don't think I actually was. You're impossible to move on from, Tyler Seguin."

He smiles and leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips. He hums and pulls back. "God, (Y/N)," he says. "Your lips are so cold. Let's go."

She lets out a light laugh and walks into the house with Tyler in tow.

Everyone looks at the two of them as Tyler pulls off his hoodie and pulls it over (Y/N)'s head since they were outside for fifteen minutes talking in freezing temperatures. "Everything okay?" her mom asks. "You guys were outside for a while. I thought I heard yelling."

"Everything's okay," she assures everyone in the living room. She goes back to sitting on the ground and Tyler sits next to her. He takes her hands in his so they warm up. She leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. "We're okay."

That was more for Tyler than anything. He kisses the top of her head before he starts to hand out the gifts that he brought with him for (Y/N)'s parents and siblings. She watches them open their presents with a smile on her face.

Then Tyler holds a little present in front of (Y/N). She slowly takes it and looks up at him. "What is this?" she asks.

"Now that would ruin the surprise," Tyler teases. "Open it and find out. I know technically we weren't together when I bought this but I knew I wanted to buy it for you."

She unwraps it and opens the little black box. There's a silver ring that sits inside with a 91 in little diamonds on it. Her jaw drops and she looks up at her boyfriend. "You really went all out even though we weren't together," she gasps.

Tyler grabs it out of the box and takes her right hand. He slides the ring on the ring finger. "Wanted to make sure that everyone knows who your boyfriend was when we got back together," he replies. She admires the ring on her finger and Tyler kisses the ring.

(Y/N) smiles and leans against him to watch the last few presents get opened.

It finally feels like Christmas now that Tyler is here. It didn't feel like it until he got here because they have spent the last three Christmases together.

Despite being angry that he showed up, she's very happy he's here now.

༺═──────────────═༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝘼𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 9: 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬)★★★

Character: Larissa Weems

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): N/a

Genre: Fluff

A/n: 3/4 of the way there! Time always flies, doesn't it?

Word count: 1.3k

...

...

"Sweetheart, it's time to get up," Larissa tickled your sides softly, waking you up to thousands of snowflakes falling from the sky out the window. "It's snowing outside and I've made hot cocoa,"

"Wait it's snowing??" You quickly sat up, swinging your legs off the side of the bed to go look closer at the beautiful sight outside. "Larissa, look!" You beamed, placing your hand up against the cold window, leaving a slight print in its wake.

"I noticed that," Larissa chuckled, walking swiftly to stand next to you as you looked on with childlike wonder, secretly adoring your endearing nature.

"Ohhh I have an idea! We should wear those matching sweaters and go outside! There's enough of the stuff to make footprints!" You explained your idea, sharply and excitedly turning your head to look at your wife lovingly.

"I love that, that sounds delightful," The platinum blonde placed her hand over her other, holding her hands in front of her chest in the regal manner she always held.

"I'll go get them!" You beamed, running over to your closet and pulling out your matching Christmas sweaters, tossing the larger one to Larissa whilst you quickly got changed.

Larissa simply laughed as she caught the sweater, putting it over her tank top and slipping on a pair of leggings after removing her shorts.

After a couple of minutes of you two changing your clothes, you both walked into the kitchen to get the hot chocolates that Larissa had made.

"This is so good 'Rissa!" You smiled as the warmth of the cocoa filled your body, smacking your lips when you had finished your swig.

"I made it just how you like it, I'm glad it was up to your standards," Larissa looked at you, nodding softly in your direction.

"Anything you make is up to my standards, you know that," You laughed, taking another sip and relishing in the warmth that the drink brought you.

Larissa smiled, drinking out of her glass before placing it on the counter and looking at you.

"Hm, I must thank you, sweetheart," She said, taking a marshmallow in between her nimble fingers and placing the soft confection in her mouth, making sure to swallow before continuing to speak. "You've allowed me to take a break from my work, and that's helped me more than you'll know,"

"It's no problem 'Rissa, I wanted to make sure your Christmas was as good as possible, that can't happen when you have a bunch of work that you're forcing yourself to do," You replied sincerely, your eyes never moving from your hot chocolate.

Larissa smiled, glancing out the window to observe the snow before changing her vision to look at you.

"The snow has piled up, and I've checked the weather. It's not going to stop until tonight. Would you like to go outside now, sweetling?" The older woman asked, holding her gloved hand out for you to take.

You nodded excitedly, wrapping your hand around your wife's and using your other hand to open the door, shivering slightly at the cold blasted in your faces.

"Chilly," You giggled, stepping into the snow, watching with excitement as you and Larissa left a trail of footprints the further you walked into the white blanket that magically covered the yard.

"That it is, but I think the cold is beautiful," The platinum blonde spoke, her British accent as alluring to you as sugar is to a fly.

You remained silent, preferring to gaze up at your wife with an adoring expression, your eyes focusing on every beautiful detail on her.

The small crow's feet that formed at her eyes, the smile lines that formed around her supple red lips, her ice-blue eyes that sparkled at the beauty of the falling snow, her soft and regal hands that caught the snowflakes she admired, and the expression of pure joy on her face felt like something magical to you.

"Sweetling?" She broke you out of your thoughts, "You're staring again," Larissa smirked, bopping you on your nose.

You squeaked, your sudden noise turning into a full-on laugh as you covered your nose with one of your hands.

"You're adorable, you know that darling?" The blue-eyed woman remarked, lowering her hands to hold yours.

You chuckled.

"Well thank you, baby," You replied, squeezing her hands softly before pulling them away.

You ran over to a nearby tree, making a tiny snowman out of the piles of snow around the plant. You shivered slightly as some of the tiny crystals melted in your palms, leaving them wet and chilly, but not enough to stop you from enjoying the creation you were making.

Larissa walked up behind you, watching each of your movements closely.

'They're such a dear,' The blonde thought, tapping you on the shoulder once you were done building.

You turned around with a curious expression, only to see your wife holding her hand out to you.

"May I have this dance?" She asked with a soft smile.

You nodded eagerly, grabbing her hand to pull yourself up, giggling as she spun you around and held you in her arms.

"Of course, M'lady," You chuckled, your feet moving in synch with hers, the snow falling around you as graceful as your movements.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?" Larissa hummed, spinning you around gently and gently, watching with sharp eyes as she took in all of your features that were highlighted by the snowflakes dusted on top of them.

"You know that you're the best thing that's happened to me, right?" You asked in reply, twirling the taller woman around before dipping, causing her to laugh (and for you to blush).

"I guess we agree then," She laughed, pressing your lips together with a smile.

"I guess we are," You looked at her, twirling yourself into her embrace.

The two of you swayed in the wind, your cheeks reddening each time she placed a kiss on your forehead.

You laid your head back against her chest, feeling her heart against the back of your head.

"I love you, Rissa," You sighed, shutting your eyes.

"I love you too Y/n, more than life itself," Larissa replied, spinning you to face her before kissing your nose.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

[888sss]

All you had to do was knock

This is NOT proofread, because I'm lazy, and just thought of this so I sat down and typed away.

Theo nott x (Slytherin)reader

(I think I have a crush on all TV characters named Theo)

the title is related to something Theo says, idk if it even makes sense

It was Christmas time, and snow had just begun to fall, you were walking with Astoria, through the shops of Hogsmeade.

"Everyone knows what it means to ask a 'friend' to Hogsmeade," says Astoria. Her brown hair hung over the sides of her face and she looked down at the ground.

"I know! He might be an introvert, but Teddy isn't stupid that's why I'm upset. Pansy even thought Teddy liked me, and then he turned around and asked her on a date." I said.

Theo and I were really close, and jokes about our friendship were often made by our other friends, due to how close we were. I'd liked Teddy for ages, but recently he had started asking me to hang out individually, and sitting next to me at meals in the great hall. He even switched with Blaise to be my potions partner, and I suck at potions. Of course, I didn't mind the extra time spent with him, and I loved his company, but now I regretted it, I felt like I had let him lead me on.

"I'm sure he does like you, Y/N. I haven't seen Theo spend this much time with anyone since, well, never." Astoria reassured me. I'm not sure how she could say such a thing when Theo was literally on a date with another girl right now. We walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and looked to see what new ideas the twins had come up with. Astoria wandered to a display table towards the left wall, "You could buy this, and Theo won't even remember Pansy's name." She held up a glass with a sparkly, heart-shaped label that read, "Love Potion". I smiled and gave her a look of disapproval.

"Too soon?" she asked.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I heard the door open, and a cold breeze made the hair stick up on my arms. I turned to the door and saw Pansy walking in, but rather than Theo behind her, it was Enzo. He scanned the store and waved at Astoria and I.

"Y/N, Astoria! Hey guys what are you doing here?" Enzo asked as he was on our side of the store in a few strides, Pansy following close behind him.

"Hey guys," Astoria gave them both a quick hug, "we're just shopping around, y'know?" Astoria holds up the love potion so that Enzo and Pansy can see it.

"What're you buying that for?" Pansy asks reaching for the glass.

"I'm not buying it, y/n is!" Astoria joked.

"I am not buying that, put it back!" I told Astoria, quickly taking it from Pansy and putting it back on the shelf we got it from.

"Trust me y/n if you're buying it for 'you-know-who' then you do not need it," Enzo said raising his eyebrows, exaggerating his tone on certain words. I punched Enzo in the arm,

"I'm not buying it," I said sternly, I knew they were all just joking, but now was a bad time, especially since Pansy was literally right next to me. "besides, Teddy and I already get along just fine, why would I need a love potion? We're just friends."

"So if me and Draco share a bed, you wouldn't think that was a little bit weird?" Enzo asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, not if you guys were both cold, and one of your beds was all the way down the hall," I told them, understanding the message they were trying to send.

The topic of the discussion changed many times before we got back to the comfort of the fireplace, surrounded by green couches, and various books. I sat in an armchair closest to the fireplace, before getting up to use the restroom. When I walked down the hallway I could hear the laughter of my friends, and faintly hear their voices. When I finished up, I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair, the hat I had taken off messed it up, and no one had thought to tell me. I walked back into the common room and saw that Teddy had returned from wherever he had been, and taken the seat I was sitting in before I got up. Without much thought, I sat down on the arm of Theo's chair and ruffled his hair.

"Hi Teddy," I sang, and seeing him for the first time today, I had almost forgotten I was mad at him, "where have you been?"

The room had gone silent and our friends all watched our interaction. I quickly noticed our proximity and moved to an empty spot on a couch, near his chair so I could still listen for his answer.

"Just around," He spoke softly, "nowhere special."

I was surprised by his answer and looked over at Pansy to see if her expression would show that she knew anything more than he let on, but she had turned back around and was talking with Mattheo about who was the better quidditch player. Theo obviously didn't have much to say, and by the bags under his eyes I could tell wherever he had been, had left him exhausted, so I let him be, and decided that I should get some rest myself.

Morning came, and despite being under water I could tell the sun had risen by the dim rays shining through the windows. I showered, and got ready for breakfast, putting on a jumper and some trousers I'd pulled from a drawer. When I left my dorm and walked into the common room, I could see Draco and Astoria waiting on the couch, tossing a hair tie back and forth as they continued in conversation.

"Good Morning!" I said as I approached the couple.

"It's about time," Draco said as he pretended to be annoyed, "If you took any longer I might've died of hunger."

"I'm actually early today, Malfoy so maybe save your starvation for another day." I laughed.

We made our way down to the great hall, and the rest of our friends made space for us at the table. Pansy was in her normal seat between Blaise and Enzo, rather than next to Theo, which confused me since I thought they liked each other, but I didn't think much of it.

As I took my usual seat next to Theo, an owl flew above our heads and dropped a letter down right in front of me.

"Y/N, you have mail!" Mattheo yelled from a few seats down, as if I couldn't see the envelope land in front of me. Blaise hit him on his had and mocked him for stating the obvious.

"Open it." Theo nudged my arm urging me on.

I turned the paper over in my hands and didn't see a name, other than my own so I ripped open the envelope. A piece of parchment was folded inside it,

'Hogsmeade? 2:00 - Harry Potter'

"Harry Potter, as in the Chosen One, you've got to be kidding me, mate." Draco sighed as he shoved his face into his hands.

I laughed and looked across the room at Harry who was already looking at me, I nodded at him, and he smiled in return, turning back around and saying something to Hermione and Ron.

"You're going to go?" Theo said to me, shocked that i assented to the idea of a date with Harry.

"Yeah, why not? He's cute and popular, he probably just needs a favor anyway," I said "Plus, you can go on dates why can't I?"

Theo's jaw dropped, and then closed again, and he got up and left.

"He deserved that," said Pansy, "I told him no, by the way, I wouldn't go out with him because I know you like him."

I wanted to curse Pansy at this moment for announcing to everyone around us that I liked Theo but decided I would appreciate her rare kindness.

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was dressed up to meet Harry. I zipped up my snow boots and heard a knock at my door, "Come in!" I called whoever it was.

I quickly kicked the clothes next to my bed, under it, in hopes whoever it was, wasn't a professor, or Harry. The door opened, and when I looked up it was Theo.

"Hey Teddy, what's up?" I asked, wondering what he was here for, I had barely seen him the past few days and assumed he was done with his attitude.

He didn't say anything, he took the chair from under my desk and sat down, looking at the ground. I stared at him waiting to see if he was going to say anything.

"You can't go on that date," he said finally meeting my eyes.

"Are you kidding me, Theo? That's what this is about because I'm going out with another guy, you want to show up in my dorm and act all possessive?" I shot at him. He had rarely talked to me in two days, and this is what he came to say.

"Please, you just- you can't go," he stood up, moving in front of me to hold my hands in his.

"So, let me get this straight, we've been just friends for months, and when you decide to ask Pansy on a date it's okay, but when I get asked out on a date you can just come to my dorm, demanding me not go?" I reiterated. I was hurt that Theo genuinely thought I would be okay with this.

"My door was unlocked," he whispered.

"What?" I asked. I felt like I had asked him so many things and hadn't gotten one response.

"I waited for you to see if you would try to talk me out of going, and ask me to stay with you instead." Theo said

"Teddy why would I talk you out of doing something that you obviously wanted to do, I want you to be happy," I told him. I was extremely confused by his intentions.

"Just please don't go y/n I'll take you to Hogsmeade myself, just don't go on a date with Harry Potter of all people." He begged me.

"But why, Theo?"

"You know why." Theo insisted.

"Say it."

"Because I love you y/n, I'm in love with you, and if you go on that date with Harry, you might start to like him, and then I'll have to move to be alone," he confessed.

I was speechless. Not because I didn't reciprocate his feelings, but because I didn't understand.

"So what about Pansy? You just asked her out to see if I would come knocking on your door?" I scoffed.

"It was her idea, I'd ask her to Hogsmeade, so you'd get jealous, but we didn't go by ourselves, Enzo and Blaise came along, that's why Astoria went with you, to make sure you didn't run into us as a group." He explained

Theo was standing so close to me that it felt like his tall figure was hovering. I could feel his breath on my face and looked up at him. He took my face in his hands and crashed his lips into mine. His hands moved down to my waist, and I kissed him back, moving my hands to his hair, pulling at the roots.

"You're really good at that," I said when we finally separated for air, moving my hands to the back of his neck.

Theo smiled down at me, "better than Potter?" he asked with a smirk. I jokingly pushed him away and sat down to write Harry a letter about how I'd be canceling our date last minute.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 29

Read on ao3! (135k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 10.7K

Chapter 29

Juliet's POV

One Month Later:

“But she lives right across from you”

“I know” 

“If you don’t do it, I’ll have to walk all the way over there and back… and it’s snowing! What if I hurt myself?” 

“That’s not the argument you want to make right now.” 

“Juliet, please.”

“Fine.”

“Excellent.” 

Charlotte smirked as she handed over the woven box filled to the brim with a variety of bottled herbal remedies. They rattled as Juliet took the weight in her arms and her scowl deepened . 

“Tell her these ones are to help with the vomiting,” Charlotte reached into the box and ran her fingertips over a couple glass rims, “and these are vitamins to help keep her strength up.”

Despite her mild annoyance, Juliet nodded and promised that she would relay the message to Maria. There really wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for Charlotte, even if delivering her remedies meant directly interacting with the town’s leader.

The ice between Juliet and Maria had never truly thawed from their first conversation almost two months ago now. They rarely saw each other, only subtle nods of acknowledgement across the street or quick conversations about patrol, and Juliet preferred it that way. 

Tommy, though, Juliet had grown quite fond of. He would always greet her with a smile on his face and some joke about her performance on patrol. Juliet would roll her eyes and demand to know how many times he would bring up that one time she fell off her horse. 

Maria announced her pregnancy only a couple weeks ago. Juliet tried to congratulate Tommy but his smile grew strained and his eyes darted away from her towards a hulking figure she chose to ignore. Juliet tried not to question it; she realised a while ago that she would never really understand the inner workings of the Miller brothers’ minds, so she stopped trying… and she didn’t bring up Maria’s pregnancy again. 

Now, thanks to Charlotte’s repulsion of cold weather and her never ending list of errands, Juliet was forced to face Maria and the stiff tension which lingered behind their every interaction.

“Thanks, by the way,” Charlotte said with a wink. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Juliet scoffed as she turned and headed towards the door. Charlotte beat her to it and pulled open the clinic door, shivering slightly as the cold air battled with the stifling heat of the fire. 

With a thin smile, Juliet tightened her hold on her box and stepped outside. It was snowing, just as Charlotte had predicted, and each flake added to the already solid sweeping of pure white which had painted Jackson for several weeks now. 

Juliet hunched her shoulders together to push the collar of Joel’s jacket higher on her neck and started walking down the porch steps, moving the box out of her line of sight to watch her feet on the slippery stairs. 

“See you tonight?” Charlotte called after her. 

Juliet paused and turned slowly. Charlotte stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows raised. 

Tonight.

The dance. 

The dance that she couldn’t even pretend to have forgotten about, when every inch of Jackson was papered with handmade flyers advertising the big event. 

“Don’t even think about not goin,” Charlotte warned, standing straighter. “You promised me you’d go.”

Damnit, she had promised. 

“I’ll be there,” Juliet assured her, projecting some cheerfulness into her voice to ease the lines on Charlotte’s forehead. 

“Great!” Charlotte practically sang. “See you at 7?” 

Juliet nodded and forced a smile on her face. 

“You better head back in, you’ll catch a cold,” she cautioned evasively, looking Charlotte up and down. 

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You’re not gettin out of this, I’ll come and find you if you’re not there for 7.” 

Juliet knew she wasn’t kidding. 

“I know,” she laughed, then lifted two fingers off the box in a wave goodbye before Charlotte decided to pull out a pen and asked her to sign a contract declaring her attendance at the dance. 

“Oh! And don’t forget to look for those vhs tapes!” Charlotte called after Juliet as she began to make her way down the porch steps, heading out onto the street. 

Charlotte had been searching for a tape of some old movie she used to watch when she was younger, she was desperate to show it at a movie afternoon. ‘Pretty in Pink’ Juliet recalled.  Tommy was convinced that there was a box of tapes in Juliet’s house and so another task was thrust upon her. 

Juliet turned and nodded very dramatically at Charlotte. “First thing tomorrow, I promise!” she shouted back then sped up to avoid another request. The snow was getting heavier and Juliet secretly hoped that it would get so bad that they might have to cancel the dance. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go… 

Okay, she just didn’t want to go. 

For many reasons… one being the confirmed attendance of the man she’d managed to avoid all contact with for the past month. 

She’d overheard Tommy mention the other day that he’d convinced Joel to come along and Juliet almost tripped over her own feet. 

The sharp bite of his rejection still burned, but the hole in her chest was starting to heal over. It was little things at first: like when she stopped waking up in the middle of the night looking for him, then when her first thought in the morning drifted to something other than him, and finally when she walked past his house and didn’t hasten her footsteps, Juliet knew that scar tissue was forming. 

But this all relied on not seeing him, because when she did… when Juliet caught sight of him in the stables or grabbing some food in the mess hall… she swore that she was back outside her house listening to him say those words and brush off everything they had built together. 

He made her feel like a little girl who’d gotten attached to someone she shouldn’t have. 

He made her feel stupid. 

He made her feel like every look and every touch between them meant nothing. 

And all of that rushed to the surface when she looked at his face. His hard, angry and devastatingly handsome face. 

Tonight, at the dance, she couldn’t avoid him. She’d have to look into those hollow eyes and pretend that he hadn’t meant the entire world to her only two months ago. 

Juliet blinked away the threat of tears and started walking quicker. 

Walking past the mess hall, Juliet watched a man on a ladder attempt to fix one of the broken twinkly lights on a large evergreen tree outside. 

It was a strange sight, the lengths Jackson’s residents went to to celebrate Christmas. 

Juliet had never known it to be a joyous occasion.  

With her father, Christmas had only ever been a sad, cold affair with stiff, awkward gatherings and blurred lines. 

There was no singing, no laughter, no trees, no lights. Her father’s community would instead join together for a reading in the community centre. Juliet would sit in the front row with her hands clasped on her lap, terrified to make even a single movement, lest she show that she wasn’t deserving of dinner. 

Christmas was the only time of the year her father drank. After their meal, he would ask for whatever alcohol they could spare to be passed around the men of the community and every woman would straighten their spines. 

Juliet tried her best to bury her memories of those Christmas nights, leaving behind only a murky recollection of one of her father’s men pushing her up against a wall and every muscle in her body stiffening. 

The feeling of hot, sweaty hands pushing her further into the wall, holding her steady as he nudged his face into her neck and his lips spread across her collarbone. Juliet always held her breath, hoping that maybe she’d pass out before his hands drifted further. 

Juliet tried to close her eyes, she always did, but the sight of her father watching them over the man’s shoulder was too vividly sickening to ignore.

Every year he allowed his men to have a taste of her… like she was a delicately wrapped present just waiting for their hungry hands to rip apart. 

But it was only ever a taste. 

When their fingers would drift lower and lower, starting to pull up her skirt, that’s when her father would walk over and place his strong hand on the man’s shoulder. Declaring his ownership. 

Christmas always left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Juliet?” 

Matt’s voice was drowned out by the piercing sound of glass bottles rattling against each other. Juliet gasped and blinked up at her patrol partner’s concerned face as he reached out to stabilise the box in her arms. 

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Juliet stuttered. 

“Are you okay?” he asked with hunched eyebrows and a serious gaze.

Juliet looked down at her box and pulled it closer to her chest, then tilted her chin back up to meet Matt’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good!” she replied, injecting false cheer into her voice.

“But you’re crying?” Matt pointed out quietly as his hand gently curved around her damp cheek. 

“Oh,” she gasped, embarrassed, “must be the cold air.” 

Matt gave her a look that said he didn’t even remotely believe her but he knew her well enough not to push the issue. Juliet knew what she looked like in that moment: red rimmed eyes and a haunted expression. 

With one last swipe of his thumb under her eyes, Matt removed his hand and brought it slowly back to his side. 

“Where you going with all that?” he asked, pointing to the filled box in her arms.

“It’s for Maria, Charlotte asked me to - ” she paused as a cold shiver rippled across her back.

For a second, Juliet felt the sharp awareness of a gun trained on her and her body instantly stiffened.

But it wasn’t a gun, it was worse.

Joel stood on the porch of the mess hall, his large leather jacket hanging over one shoulder as though he was putting it on but stopped suddenly. He was still, so still that Juliet wondered if time had stopped. 

Her eyes washed over him despite her brain screaming at her to look away, but it was impossible when his dark eyes were focused on her like the sharp gaze of a hunter. 

Slowly, his eyes moved to the man beside her and Juliet watched as his fists curled and his jaw moved before he sharply looked away.

The second his eyes left her Juliet inhaled a deep breath and quickly returned her gaze to Matt, who stood looking down at her with confusion written all over his face.

“Sorry,” she coughed, “these are for Maria, I’m just heading over there now,” Juliet explained, lifting the box and cringing as the bottles rattled again. 

Matt watched her curiously for another second before his signature smile donned his face again.

“I’ll walk with you,” he decided and reached down to take the box out of Juliet’s hand, tucking it beneath one arm and pivoted to hover his other hand on the small of Juliet’s back.

Juliet didn’t look at the mess hall as they walked passed, not even when he felt that dangerous awareness spread over the back of her neck. She just focused on the crunch of snow beneath her feet and watched the clouds of breath hang in the air in front of them. 

Their conversation was easy, as it always was. 

Matt would recognise when Juliet’s mind drifted elsewhere and he would fill the space with chatter about his big plans for the week. And that day, the topic on his mind was the dance.

Juliet tried not to roll her eyes.

“So, are you coming?” he asked with a smirk. 

Juliet shot him a dark look. “I think Charlotte would have many creative ways of murdering me if I didn’t show up,” she explained. 

Matt’s laugh was warm and playful. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” 

Juliet’s mouth cracked a smile. 

They walked in silence for a while until they reached the turn off towards her street. Matt stopped in front of her and carefully passed the box back into Juliet’s arms.

“Save me a dance?” he asked with raised eyebrows. 

Juliet laughed. “Sure.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair and stepped backwards. “Don’t sound too excited, Jules,” he said with a wink, and then he was gone, heading in the other direction with his hands in his pockets. 

Juliet let out a slow breath and closed her eyes. Matt’s presence was a welcome distraction but the memory of her father lay steady on her shoulders, weighing her down. 

He was never far from her mind, even on her good days. Charlotte spoke to her about ‘closure’,  allowing herself to face what her father did to her and move past it. But that sounded like a child’s fantasy, as if she could actually ever rid herself from his memory. As if she could ever untangle herself from him. 

His initials were burned into her skin but his ghost had sunk deeper into her bones, burrowing himself there and haunting her every movement. 

Closure was a privilege not offered to her. 

She’d had enough conversations with Charlotte to recognise that he was her abuser, although Juliet still struggled to voice the term. 

He was her father, part of her DNA. How could she ever truly rid herself of him? 

Juliet had tried taking herself back to that final night in the basement before Joel had found her. She thought if she allowed herself to remember everything that had happened she might be able to work through it and rid herself of some of fear eating away at her, but there were still gaps in her memory; large stretches of blackness behind her eyes where more horrors were hidden.

So, no, she wasn’t excited for the dance, or Christmas, or anything really. 

Juliet was still drowning beneath the memory of her father and her only lifeline had abandoned her. 

……………………………….

Charlotte’s box of remedies sat on Maria’s porch as Juliet knocked on the door for the third time. 

Her knuckles struck the wood but there was still no answer. 

She glanced behind her then her gaze dropped to the handle and the impulsive, impatient part of Juliet reached for the metal knob and turned.

It opened. 

Juliet paused, unsure what to do. Maybe Maria was sleeping or just hadn’t heard the door… maybe she should sit in the box in the house then leave. 

Juliet bent and lifted the box into her arms again and stepped into the house. It was almost an exact replica of the layout of her and Ethan’s and her feet took her into the living room before she could stop herself. A part of her was curious about how the town’s leader lived. 

The room was well decorated with soft throws over the couches and trinkets on almost every surface. Juliet kept walking, slowly taking in all of the details around her. 

After a moment, she spotted what looked like a small chalkboard over the fireplace and her curiosity took her there immediately. There, written on the black surface were two names:

Kevin 4/3/00 - 9/29/03

Sarah 7/20/89 - 9/27/03

A sinking feeling settled in Juliet’s gut. 

They must be Maria’s kids… Joel had never mentioned being an uncle.

God, they were so young when they died. Juliet couldn’t even imagine the trauma that would leave on a person, what might happen to their perception of this already very dark world. 

“Juliet?” 

Her head whipped around to find Maria standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gripping a pair of scissors tightly in her hands. 

“Sorry, the door was open…” Juliet trailed off, realising now how strange it was that she just walked right in. 

Maria raised her eyebrows. “What’s this?” she asked, using the scissors to point towards the box in Juliet’s arms. 

“Remedies,” she answered quickly, “from Charlotte.” 

Maria’s face instantly softened and she tucked her scissors into her back pocket. 

“Thanks,” she murmured as Juliet passed the box to her and relayed Charlotte’s message. 

Once the box had left her hands, Juliet stepped backwards, feeling the awkwardness that lay thick between them. It was obvious Maria felt the same. 

“Well, I better get going,” Juliet said quietly, already turning towards the door. 

“Wait.” 

She stopped, tilting her head back around to the town’s leader. Maria looked her up and down. 

“Who’s been cutting your hair?” she asked while adjusting the box in her arms. 

Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed and her chin dipped to look at her dark brown hair falling several inches below her breasts. 

“No one,” she replied, sounding more like a question, as she self-consciously tugged on the ends of her hair. 

A smile approached the corner of Maria’s mouth before she placed the box on the coffee table and pulled the scissors from her pocket, waving them slightly. 

“No,” Juliet argued, “I couldn’t ask you - “

“It’s no problem,” Maria replied in that hard, matter of fact tone of her’s. 

Before Juliet could reply, Maria had already turned and walked into the kitchen. 

Juliet didn’t really have an option but to follow.

………………………….

Maria’s kitchen was a lot nicer than her and Ethan’s. 

Juliet sat on a wooden chair with a towel draped over her shoulders, flinching as Maria sprayed her hair with water. 

“Just a trim or are you looking for a chop?” Maria asked suddenly, startling Juliet who had gotten used to the silence between them. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t even sure when the last time she had her hair cut was. It must have been when she had first arrived in the QZ when Juliet’s hair was so coated in blood and dirt that she ended up taking her blunt knife to it. 

Maria’s scissors looked a lot sharper. 

Juliet thought about her question and about everything that she’d been through since that last haircut. 

Her hair had grown as she worked those years with Joel, and longer as she travelled the country with him. Now all she had to show for it was the length of her dark brown waves…

Juliet didn’t want to carry that weight anymore. 

“A chop,” she answered finally. 

Maria’s surprisingly skilled fingers began to separate parts of her length and when the first inch of hair fell to the floor next to her feet, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief. 

After another few inches hit the floor, Maria broke the silence:

“You were looking at the memorial Tommy made?” she asked. 

Juliet stilled the nervous tapping of her foot and swallowed awkwardly. 

“I’m really sorry about your kids,” Juliet murmured as she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, feeling her heart grow heavy for the woman who stood behind her.

“It’s okay,” Maria replied, in her usual even tone, “and kid… just Kevin.” 

Another apology almost slid from Juliet’s mouth but her confusion held her tongue. She hadn’t realised that Tommy was once a father -

“Sarah was Joel’s daughter.” 

Juliet’s breath caught in her throat. 

Joel had a child? A child who died? 

Every interaction they’d ever had, every cold word from his mouth, and every sad look in his eyes flew through Juliet’s mind. Her heart had dropped to her stomach and a cold chill ran down her spine. 

She wasn’t sure how to process this information.

He never said anything. Never even hinted at the loss he’d suffered. But as the realisation washed over her, Juliet realised that he had. It was written all over his face; in the hard line between his eyebrows; in the deep grooves around his mouth, echoing a memory of a time when laughter came easily to him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” Maria said hesitantly. 

“No,” Juliet heard herself say, “thanks for telling me.” 

Her heart ached for Joel and there was nowhere to put the feelings inside her chest. She couldn’t go to him, she couldn’t talk to him about it. 

Juliet was left to reevaluate everything she knew about Joel as inches upon inches of her hair continued to fall on the floor around her feet.

…………………..

Juliet’s steps were sudden and heavy as she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. It was strange, she thought, not feeling the weight of the last few years swinging around her face. 

Juliet’s hair now fell just below her shoulders and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. When she reached her room, she headed straight for the floor length mirror balancing on the wall near her window. Her chin tilted upwards as she admired the way her hair moved.

This was a good thing, she decided. A new start. 

Maybe, when she went for her next haircut, there wouldn’t be as much baggage to remove. 

Her heartbeat quickened as she turned towards her very vacant closet, remembering the dance that rapidly approached and her complete lack of an outfit. 

Juliet had been at Maria’s longer than she realised, and the sky was fading into a worrying dark blue as the minutes ticked by. 

Her fingers flicked between the hangers in her closet but her mind was elsewhere. 

Joel had lost his daughter. 

She couldn’t even imagine the pain.

Her grief for her father was a dark, guilt drenched lump in her throat that choked her whenever her mind drifted his way. 

Her grief wasn’t a byproduct of her love for him; it was an aftermath of her fear. 

Juliet didn’t miss her father. She was still afraid of him. 

But Juliet knew that Joel’s grief was different. It made sense now, why his protective instincts ran so deep, and why his eyes were black wells of sorrow and remorse. 

Joel’s grief for his daughter was a smouldering fire. It burned hot and, though its flames dwindled, it never went out. 

It made sense, that Joel had lost someone.

This whole time, when she witnessed the haunted look in his eyes, Juliet had assumed it was Tess. Maybe Joel regretted letting her go, maybe there was another woman who he still felt the loss of.

But it was deeper than that. 

Maria’s reveal was the final piece in the very complicated puzzle of Joel Miller. 

Joel was dark and messy and haunted. And, finally, Juliet understood why. 

Juliet unhooked a hanger from her wardrobe. On it was the only dress in her possession, one gifted to her from Charlotte. 

It was long, falling below her knees, and it hugged her body in a way that made Juliet’s cheeks flush. The straps were thin, barely holding the dress up. 

But the best part, in Juliet’s opinion, was the colour. It was a combination of various shades of dark red, all merged together.

It was perfect. 

Juliet slipped the dress on and walked back over to her mirror, reaching to tuck her shortened hair behind her ears.

She barely recognised herself, and the thought was a welcome one. 

The sky was black, and Juliet knew it was time to go. Charlotte’s threats were not to be taken lightly. 

Her steps down the stairs were softer, nervous even.

He would be there. At the dance. 

The hairs on her bare arms raised at the thought of Joel’s eyes finding her in this dress. Then she blinked suddenly, erasing the image in her mind.

No. Joel had hurt her. She couldn’t think of him that way anymore. 

Juliet shook her head and reached for her boots, lacing them up as she sat on the bottom step. 

Juliet’s feelings towards Joel were so tangled up, it was becoming impossible to unravel them all. And, now, finding out something so devastating about him just added another thread to the mess. 

She stood and walked towards the front door, where her jacket hung from a hook. Its dark green canvas material still smelled like him. Juliet had to stop herself from lifting it to her nose. 

It was worrying her that the thought of seeing Joel brought with it the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Or were they moths? Churning around in the memory of the way Joel had once made her feel. 

As Juliet put her arms through the sleeves, and savoured the warmth it brought, she realised that slowly her anger towards Joel had begun to fade. 

He didn’t want her, and that hurt. But the bitterness within her had lessened. 

In its place, were recurring waves of sadness and disappointment. 

Joel didn’t want her, and it hurt; it left that deep, dark hole in her chest surrounded by a graveyard of misguided expectations. 

Joel didn’t want her. But she was still here. She was still surviving. 

Juliet would repeat those words at the dance, reminding herself that Joel didn’t have space in his haunted heart for her. And she would have to let him go. 

………………………………

The door creaked when she entered, but no one heard.

The mess hall had been entirely transformed. The seats were pushed to the side to make room for couples to dance. There were even more twinkly lights than usual, covering every wall. Candles covered every surface, and a band was set up on a makeshift stage, playing an upbeat song. 

Juliet let the door close behind her as she stood in awe, watching as people laughed and twirled and drank. 

“You made it,” Ethan beamed beside her, pulling Juliet in for a hug. 

Juliet circled her arms around Ehtan’s back, breathing a sigh of relief at his warm familiarity. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered in her ear and then pecked a kiss on her cheek before he let go, straightening his back and looking down at her. 

Juliet nodded, and a real smile started to twitch at the corners of her mouth. 

“Charlotte will be glad to see you, she almost had a search party out,” Ethan said teasingly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

Juliet scoffed. “I’m like two minutes late.” 

Ethan laughed and lifted his eyes, nodding as another person approached.

“Your jacket, miss?” Matt requested in what Juliet had been told was a french accent, a very bad version of it she assumed, and raised his arm, waiting. 

Juliet’s eyes hit the ceiling as she shrugged off her coat and placed it in Matt’s arms. She felt her cheeks warm as the cold hit her bare arms but she straightened her back and tilted her chin up, making an effort to not be embarrassed. 

Matt blew out a low whistle as he tugged her jacket under his arm. 

“You cut your hair,” Ethan breathed, lifting a hand to tug at the chopped length.

“Yeah,” she replied, darting her eyes between her two friends, “just felt like a change.” 

“You look beautiful,” Matt said roughly after a long moment. 

Ethan cut Matt a sharp look and tilted his head towards the sea of people gathered around the tables. “Come on,” he urged. 

Juliet looked up at Matt who gave her a wink and a teasing smile, then settled his free hand on the small of her back and led her through the crowd of people. 

“You’re here!” Charlotte screamed into Juliet’s ear as she pulled her in for a hug. “Your hair! And that dress! I was right, it looks amazing on you.”

Juliet felt her cheeks redden even more and she pulled back from the hug, allowing her eyes to drift down Charlotte’s outfit. 

“You look gorgeous,” she told her friend earnestly. 

Soon, the four of them settled down at a table with drinks in their hands. Juliet winced slightly as she tipped the whiskey to her lips and felt it burn as it went down her throat. It wasn’t the taste that bothered her, more the memory of it. 

Juliet couldn’t help it, after a moment she began to drift away from the conversation as her eyes searched for familiar broad shoulders and grey speckled brown hair. 

She convinced herself she wasn’t disappointed when there was no sign of him. It was a relief she felt, of course. 

Juliet’s focus returned to the table just in time for Matt to share another embarrassing patrol story. 

“I told her not to go in, but she did it anyway,” Matt explained, raising his hands as his mouth stretched further to accommodate his beaming smile. 

Juliet covered her mouth as Charlotte and Ethan’s eyes swung her way. 

“Admit it,” she demanded, turning back to face Matt, “you were just scared.” 

He barked out a laugh and took another long sip of his whiskey. “If that’s true, what about that -”

Matt was cut off by Charlotte’s excited scream. 

“I love this song!” she screeched, reaching for Ethan’s hand and dragging him to his feet, “we have to go dance.” 

Charlotte led Ethan to the dancefloor, and Juliet watched as their fingers quietly interlaced in the space between them. 

When her gaze returned to Matt, he was looking at her with a curious expression but chose not to voice his thoughts. 

If Charlotte and Ethan had something between them, Juliet was happy for them. She left her feelings for Ethan behind a long time ago, and their friendship had transformed over the last couple months; becoming more mature and grounded on something other than their mutual fear. 

“Wanna join them?” Matt asked, nudging his head in the direction of the couples dancing. 

Juliet was ready to shake her head but the look in his eyes was so hopeful that she couldn’t bring herself to say no. 

Instead, Juliet reached for her glass and swallowed the remainder of whiskey, then nodded sharply and rose from her seat. 

Matt laughed in response, reaching suddenly for her hand as they made their way to the floor. The music had settled slightly, it was smoother, slower and she watched as the couples around them began to sway. 

Matt looked down at her, sweeping his gaze all the way down her dress and back up to meet her eyes. Then his hand wrapped around her middle and his fingers spread out across her back. In one sudden movement, he pushed and their chests were flush and his other hand was entwined with her own. 

Juliet’s heart started to race. This was unexpected, she hadn’t been this close to someone since…

Thankfully, the alcohol drowned out most of her nerves and Juliet pushed away all traitorous. 

As they moved to the music, Juliet’s chin tipped up to admire the lights hanging above them. They looked like stars falling above their heads, and Juliet noticed the small reflections in Matt’s eyes. 

Matt’s warm expression quickly shifted as his eyes latched onto something behind her, his eyebrows began to furrow and he tightened the hold on her hand. Then slowly, he bent to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got into him?” he murmured. 

Juliet knew who it was before she turned her head. There was that awareness on the back of her neck again, warning her that something dangerous, someone dangerous, was watching her.

Still, her head swung with such speed her hair whipped around her. 

There, leaning against the bar, was Joel. 

The first thing Juliet noticed was his green shirt, and the few buttons open at the top. 

The second thing she noticed was the murderous intention in his eyes.

He watched her like a serial killer stalking his next victim. His eyes didn’t stray from her face, not even as Matt tapped her cheek to pull her attention back to him. 

Juliet was caught. 

And the wound in her chest poured open again.

If he didn’t care, if he didn’t want to be with her… Why look at her that way? Why demand her attention? 

“Juliet? Are you okay?” Matt asked, concern seeping into his voice.

“Yes,” she answered quickly, finally pulling her attention away from the man who was still watching her. 

“Yeah I have no idea what’s up with him,” she laughed nervously, settling her hand back into Matt’s. 

Matt looked back over at Joel then down at Juliet. “He looks like he’s gonna kill someone,” Matt said with a shocked laugh. 

Juliet’s responding giggle was a little too high to be believable. But, again, Matt was too nice to ask her about it. 

As the next song played, and they continued to dance, Juliet struggled to ignore Joel’s presence.

And she felt that anger start to churn in her gut again. 

“Sorry, I’ll just be a minute,” Juliet apologised to Matt in a voice that sounded very far away, unlatching their fingers as she began to march across the dancefloor to the man simmering at the bar. 

 Her footsteps faltered as she approached him, but Juliet kept her chin up, urging herself not to be intimidated by the rage in his eyes or the way he towered over her.

Within seconds Juliet stood in front of Joel Miller for the first time in a month.

She underestimated how much it would hurt.

His black eyes scanned every inch of her face with a feverish intensity. Juliet knew she had to say something before she lost her resolve.

She licked her lips and ignored the way Joel’s eyes followed her movement. 

“Is there a problem?” she demanded. 

Joel took a deep breath and the scowl on his face deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest. Juliet also ignored the way the material of his shirt stretched to accommodate the size of his biceps. 

“You cut your hair,” he said roughly, ignoring her question. 

Juliet’s fingers instantly reached to touch the blunt ends of her hair. 

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me?” she questioned, dropping her hand back to rest against her leg. 

Joel’s jaw shifted. “What are you doin’ with him?” he ground out, looking behind her before his eyes returned to her face. 

“Who? Matt?” she asked, confused. 

The smallest tilt of Joel’s was confirmation enough. 

“He’s my friend,” Juliet answered defensively, straightening her spine. 

Joel scoffed and reached a hand up to rub his jaw. 

“If that’s what you wanna call him,” he murmured under his breath as corners of his mouth curved into a sick smile.  

Rage shot through her, hot and fast. 

“What is it to you?” Juliet fumed. 

Joel’s expression hardened. 

“You need to be careful,” he warned, darkening his tone.

Juliet felt like she’d been slapped. Every interaction she’d had with Joel over the past two months had been strange, cryptic and insulting… and she was so sick of it. 

“Of what?,” she demanded, raising her hands in the hair, “of Matt?”

Joel said nothing; his silence was his answer. 

“Why?” Juliet urged, “because he might hurt me?” 

Her mouth took on a snarl. 

“I think I know who I should be careful of, Joel,” she seethed, breathlessly, “I think I know who might want to hurt me.”

Joel’s stone face flinched. 

Juliet stepped back, breathing heavy. She didn’t have anything left to say to him. 

It didn’t have to be like this between them. If Joel didn’t want her, they could have remained friends. But why did he have to keep pulling her back in, giving her signs that he might still feel something for her, only to stab her in the heart with his cruel comments time and time again? 

The music finally reached her ears again and Juliet wiped the tear from her cheek, moving to turn and return to her friend on the dancefloor and try to salvage the evening. 

But before she could take a step away from him, Joel’s strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, stilling all movements. 

Her face was turned away from him and she didn’t dare attempt to meet his eyes. So, Joel stepped forward until his front was flush with her back and dipped his head until his lips met her ear.

Juliet shivered as though the cold from outside had pushed through the walls. 

“Juliet,” he murmured against the shell of her ear. 

Her eyes closed as another tear leaked out. 

“I was wrong,” Joel whispered and every cell in Juliet’s body set alight. 

She gasped, waiting for him to say more… 

“Juliet, is everything okay here?” Matt’s voice was like a bucket of cold water thrown over her head. She wrenched away from Joel, pulling her arm free from him. 

“Everything’s fine,” she assured him, hoping he hadn’t noticed the crack in her voice.

Matt looked between them, unconvinced. 

Juliet reached for her friend’s hand, pointedly ignoring the feeling of Joel’s eyes on the back of her head. 

“I think Charlotte’s waving us over,” Juliet said quickly, pulling him in the direction of the dancefloor. 

The distance between her and Joel did nothing to slow her heartbeat or erase the sound of his words from her mind. 

“What was that about?” Matt asked when they finally stopped in the middle of the crowded floor. 

“Nothing,” she replied. Then before he could ask anymore questions, Juliet pulled him close and started moving to the music.

After a moment, Matt’s muscles relaxed and a smile returned to his face.

Juliet tried not to, but she turned and caught sight of Joel at the bar. He had one empty whiskey glass in front of him, and another one at his lips. 

She flinched as she heard that second glass hit the wooden surface of the bar with the force of Joel’s hand. 

…………………………

Hours later, the world had grown a little blurry. 

The four of them were back at the table, laughing over some joke that wouldn’t have been funny in the light of day. Juliet’s arm was slung over Charlotte’s shoulders as they watched Matt and Ethan arm wrestle. 

Juliet had drunk enough to dull the memory of Joel’s lips against her ear, and she had managed to continue the evening as normal, as though Joel hadn’t reignited some hope in her chest that was bound to cause her even more misery. 

The lights looked brighter overhead somehow, and Juliet’s chin kept tilting up to watch them flicker. 

In the corner of the hall, she heard a christmas carol being sung by a group of drunk men. For a quick second, the memory of Christmas with her father almost pulled her under… but then she looked in front of her, and watched as her friends began to join in. Their voices were loud and frighteningly out of tune, but they were joyful and they weren’t frightened. They were happy. 

Slowly, Juliet's quiet voice blended with theirs and a similar smile approached her face. She pulled Charlotte closer, and felt a strange rush of comfort flow through her. Maybe this was what it was like to have a family. 

When the song ended, everyone clapped and laughter rang throughout the hall. Juliet sat back against her seat with a true smile on her face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Juliet noticed Matt shift his chair closer to her and she felt his fingers brush across her hair. 

“You havin’ a good time?” he whispered in her ear.

Juliet turned to face him and their cheeks almost touched. Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Yeah, are you?” she choked out. 

He nodded against her hair, then he pulled back and gestured towards her empty glass. 

“Want another drink?” Matt asked. 

Juliet probably should have said no, she’d had more than enough. But looking around, it very much seemed like the night was still young. So, she smiled up at Matt and nodded. 

Matt winked back at her and told her he’d just be a minute as he lifted their empty glasses and left the table. 

Juliet leaned back in her chair and adjusted the straps of her dress, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this between her and Matt. He’d always been flirty, yes, but Juliet had assumed it was just his personality. 

But under the christmas lights and the influence of alcohol, Juliet didn’t mind his casual touch and whispered words. 

Moments later, a woman’s scream cut through her thoughts.

Juliet’s head whipped around, and her view of the world tilted slightly. Her eyesight was diluted and she struggled to see what had caused a crowd to gather around the bar.

Juliet stood on shaky legs, readying herself to grab Charlotte and Ethan and run. 

Just as she turned to shout an order, Juliet spotted Tommy hauling someone away from the bar. 

It was Joel. 

His hair was drenched in sweat, and his curls were plastered to his head. Juliet’s mouth gaped in shock and she started moving, pushing through the crowd of people, desperate to see what had happened. 

But the blood on Joel’s knuckles told her more than enough. 

Matt crouched on the floor beside the bar with blood flooding from his nose. A woman passed him a towel and he held it to his face as his eyes closed in pain. 

Juliet’s ears were ringing in that high pitched sound. 

She should have crouched down with Matt, helped him clear the blood from his face, asked him what happened, and comforted him the best she could. 

But she didn’t. 

She couldn’t. 

Juliet turned before Matt caught sight of her in the crowd and she pushed against more people until she reached the exit of the mess hall, where Tommy had just dragged Joel seconds earlier. 

She didn’t even hear the sound of the door slamming against the wall as she kicked it open. The skin on her arms pebbled as soon as she stepped outside into the cold, but Juliet couldn’t feel it. 

Her head turned to find Joel slammed against the wall with Tommy’s hand on his chest. 

“Joel” Juliet shouted as she marched towards him. She didn’t even recognise her own voice. 

“Juliet?” 

Her name fell from Tommy’s lips and Joel’s eyes locked onto her. 

“Go back inside, I’ll be in in a second,” Tommy urged her, using his most commanding voice. 

Juliet could see the fear and worry in his eyes. Tommy loved his brother but knew that he couldn’t protect him from himself. 

“No,” she said loudly, “I need to speak with him.”

“Juliet this isn’t a good idea -”

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Joel growled as he pushed against his brother. 

Tommy looked between them both. “You have two minutes.”

As soon as the door shut, Juliet launched herself at Joel. 

Her hands planted firmly on his shoulders and she pushed hard, backing him further into the wall behind him. 

The way his head rolled and the stink of his breath as it hit her nose told her that he was as drunk as her, drunker probably. 

“What the fuck was that?” she sneered. Juliet was breathless, fueled entirely by her own shock, confusion and anger. 

Joel said nothing, just started down at her with half open eyes. 

Juliet pushed him again, hard enough to hear a groan release from his lips. 

“Why would you do that!? He’s my friend, my patrol partner,” she demanded, the words spilling from her mouth in a breathless rush. “Why would you want to hurt him?” 

Joel straightened against the wall and Juliet’s hands fell to rest against his chest. The movement of her arms mirrored each breath he took. 

“He can’t protect you,” Joel murmured, tilting his chin down to meet her eyes. 

“What?” Juliet breathed. 

“On patrol,” he clarified, “he can’t protect you.” 

Juliet pulled back to search Joel’s face. Maybe this was some elaborate joke. She certainly felt like laughing.

But the look in his eyes told her that he was serious. And that just made her blood boil.

“I don’t need to be fucking protected Joel, don’t give me that,” she argued. 

Joel ground his jaw. His eyes were black holes, and Juliet couldn’t see what lurked in them. 

“Are you jealous?” Juliet whispered, terrified to even say the words. 

Joel pushed against her until Juliet was forced to take a step back. 

“Not fuckin’ jealous,” he seethed, then scoffed like it was a joke. “You’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” 

Juliet flinched. 

“Then make me understand,” she begged, “because I can’t make sense of it anymore.”

Juliet paused, inhaling a deep breath and running a hand through her hair. 

“You don’t want to be with me,” she started, “I can understand that, that makes sense to me.” 

Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears, but she kept going.

“But why won’t you just leave me alone? You keep haunting me Joel, I can’t escape you,” Juliet sobbed, using her trembling hand to wipe her nose. 

Joel was silent, his face was wiped clean of any emotion. 

“Now you’re punching my patrol partner? What makes you think -”

Juliet’s words caught in her throat as Joel’s hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around, pushing her against the same wall he was up against only seconds earlier.

He planted his hands against the wall on either side of her head, crowding her with his body. 

“You wanna know why?” he murmured. Joel’s face was so close his breath warmed her cheeks. 

She couldn’t help herself, Juliet’s chin dipped in a nod almost instantly. 

“Because if it came down to it and a fuckin’ clicker was backin’ you up against a wall like this,” Joel pushed his chest against hers and Juliet gasped, “he would save himself, he wouldn’t save you.” 

Juliet’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Joel’s breathing had grown heavier and his hands curled into fists against the wall. 

“And you would?” Juliet asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Joel let out a humourless laugh and moved one of his hands to cup her cheek. Juliet was always surprised by how gentle his touch could be. 

“I’d let myself die to save you,” he vowed roughly, then shook his head slightly and moved his thumb against her cheek, “and I’d let other people die too if it ensured your safety.”

“He couldn’t say the same,” Joel finished in a low voice, his voice a growl against her skin. 

Juliet’s heartbeat roared in her ears. 

“What -” Juliet started, pausing to catch her breath, “what did you mean earlier? What were you wrong about?” 

Joel’s pupils flared and he swallowed rough. 

Juliet watched what looked like a thousand emotions pass through his eyes, and she held her breath, waiting desperately for his answer. 

“I was wrong to think I could stay away from you,” Joel explained in a voice like gravel. 

Juliet swore her heart stopped. 

Joel’s head dipped until his forehead pressed against her own. “I thought I could let you go,” he continued, “I thought it’d be better for you.” 

So many questions lingered on her tongue, but Juliet stayed quiet. 

“I was wrong,” Joel stated. “I can’t stay away from you.” 

“And seein you go behind the fence and havin’ to stay behind, not knowin’ if you’re okay,” he paused, pulling back to search her eyes, “it’s killin’ me, not being near you.”

“Then don’t stay away,” Juliet urged, her voice desperate, “be with me.”

Joel’s thumb moved to her lips, tracing the edge of her mouth. 

Juliet had laid her heart out on the table. It was broken and scarred, but it could be his, if he wanted it to be. 

His head shook ever so slightly and Juliet began to tremble. 

“I want to, god I want to,” he murmured, staring intensely at her lips, “but I’m not good for you, baby.” 

“Stop,” Juliet said suddenly, pushing against him. 

“I’m not a child,” she nearly screamed, “I decide what’s good for me, not you.” 

“We live in a fucked up world, and I know how to survive it. So do you. I don’t need to be protected from it, and I definitely don’t need to be protected from you,” the words rushed from her and Juliet was sick of censoring herself. “These past couple months I’ve been so angry at you, so angry, because you’ve taken my choice away. You decided that we shouldn't be together. If I want to be with you then that is my decision.”

Juliet’s heart beat so fast she was sure Joel could hear it. 

He stood a couple steps away, looking down at her with his mouth agape. 

Then suddenly, he took a step forward, and another one, until their bodies were flush again and his hands were on either side of her face. 

“I’m too old for you,” he cautioned. 

“I don’t care,” Juliet responded quickly, holding her ground. 

“I’m not who I was. I’m too slow and I -” 

“I don’t care,” she repeated, firmer this time. 

His eyes had grown glossy and Juliet pushed her heart towards him again, wondering if he’d take it this time. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he nearly growled. 

“Show me,” she whispered, then held her breath. 

Joel’s mouth was on hers not even a second later. His hand curled around the back of her neck as he tilted her face up to meet his. 

Juliet responded instantly, gripping his shirt with her fingers, moaning into his open mouth, trembling under his touch.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin when his lips moved to her neck. “Not lettin’ you go again,” Joel vowed. 

She pulled harder against his shirt, needing him closer. Joel must have felt the same because his hands slid down to her waist and his fingers curled against her, tugging at the fabric of her dress. 

“So goddamn beautiful,” he growled in her ear when his hands found the end of the dress and feverishly began to climb up her thigh. 

Joel’s lips suddenly wrenched from her skin when the door to the mess hall opened and a group of people spilled out, laughing and singing. 

Joel gripped Juliet’s arm and pulled her into a dark corner, away from the lights in the street. 

A bucket of cold water had been thrown over them, but Joel didn’t look regretful. He looked down at Juliet like he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes were warm and hopeful. 

A cold wind blew around them and Juliet shivered, rubbing her arms. 

“Where’s your jacket?” Joel demanded, instantly reaching to shelter her from the cold. 

“Inside,” she murmured against his chest. 

Joel groaned. “If I go back in there just now, think Tommy might just throw me out.” 

“Well, you did punch someone,” Juliet reminded him, and cringed as she remembered the look on Matt’s face. A fierce ball of guilt grew in her chest. 

Joel pulled back to give her a dark look, then he bent and tucked his arms under her legs, hauling her to his chest. 

“Hey!” she screeched.

“We better get you home then, before you freeze to death,” Joel deadpanned as he carried Juliet round the corner and onto the mainstreet, heading for their street. 

“This is completely unnecessary,” she argued, “I can walk.” 

Joel ignored her. Instead, choosing to tuck her closer to his chest. 

The lights that covered the mainstreet were gorgeous against the night sky, but Juliet couldn’t keep her eyes off Joel as he carried her all the way home, not even breaking a sweat. 

When her feet hit the ground, they were standing on her porch. Juliet looked up at him, disappointed that they weren’t at his. She didn’t even want to spend a night apart. 

“Don’t,” Joel whispered against the side of her head. “We’re gonna do this the right way.” 

Juliet rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair,” she groaned. 

“Get inside,” he ordered, “put a fire on, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Juliet watched him for a second, hoping he’d change his mind and throw her over his shoulder and they could resume what started on his couch almost two months ago. 

But no, Joel was being serious. 

Before she could stop herself, Juliet stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. She felt his hands curl into fists by his side as he attempted to restrain himself from grabbing her. 

“Goodnight, Joel,” she whispered as she turned the handle to her house.

For the first time in a long time, Juliet left him without fear that it would be forever. 

……………………….

Her mind repeated her conversation with Joel as she unlaced her boots. With each movement of her fingers, Juliet’s smile grew. 

Joel wanted her. 

It wasn’t all in her head. 

Juliet climbed the stairs quickly, desperate to take off her dress and get into bed. As she lay in the dark she would replay every second of her kiss with Joel. 

But as soon as her foot hit the top step she remembered something. 

“Urghhhhh,” Juliet groaned as she dropped her head in her hands. 

She’d forgotten to look for Charlotte’s vhs tapes, and Juliet told her she’d have them to her in the morning. 

It was fine, Juliet knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. 

For the next hour, as the alcohol faded from her bloodstream, Juliet searched high and low for the box of tapes Tommy had sworn were in his house. Sweat dampened her forehead and Juliet was growing tired. But she couldn’t disappoint Charlotte. 

As she walked along the downstairs hallway, Juliet realised there was one place she hadn’t checked: the basement. 

Her feet paused outside the door. 

Juliet had yet to step foot in the basement of her new home, terrified that it might in some way resemble her father’s. 

Time seemed to slow as her eyes traced the pattern on the door handle, and her mind debated what to do. 

She could wait for Ethan to get home and ask him to check. He would do it, of course. 

But Juliet was sick of living with this fear all the time. She wanted what Charlotte had spoken about. She wanted closure. Maybe walking into this perfectly safe basement would grant her that. Maybe she’d realise that her father was truly gone and that she didn’t have to be afraid of these things anymore. 

Despite her best intentions, Juliet’s fingers still trembled as she reached for the handle. She paused before the door opened, breathing deep as she attempted to calm her racing heartbeat. 

If she wanted to move on with her life, she had to do this. 

She needed closure. She wanted closure. 

Juliet’s wrist turned and the door popped open, releasing a draft of cold air that settled on her skin. 

She shivered but fought against the chill. 

Juliet squared her shoulders and walked through the doorway. Her fingers felt against the wall for a lightswitch but she realised soon that there wasn’t one. 

She nearly turned back. 

But Juliet knew that she had to do this. 

She tried not to count the steps as she walked down them. This wasn’t her father’s basement, she didn’t need to do that anymore. 

When she reached the bottom step, Juliet took a deep breath, ignoring the dust that settled on her tongue. 

The light from the hallway upstairs allowed her to see somewhat okay, and Juliet felt confident moving forward towards the row of boxes against the back wall. 

Her fear settled with every step she took, and Juliet was beginning to realise that she had no reason to be afraid. Maybe she was doing better than she thought. 

Juliet hit the floor before she even realised what had happened. 

Her hands flew out to protect her face, but her knee burned as she hit the hard ground.  

She must have tripped on something. 

But Juliet wasn’t worried about that. 

Her fall had sent adrenaline flowing through her body and, as she lay on the cold concrete ground, Juliet swore she saw her father standing over her. 

“No,” she whispered as she covered her eyes with her hands. 

When she opened them again, she wasn’t lying on the ground anymore. Instead, she sat in a metal chair in the middle of the room as a roaring fire illuminated the snarl on her father’s face. 

Her arms and legs were strapped down, she couldn’t move. 

This was the night her father died, before he had branded her, before Joel and Ethan had found her. 

This was the part of that night her brain wouldn’t let her remember…

Until now. 

Juliet struggled against her restraints as the memory choked her. 

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” her father whispered, just inches from her face. Her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -” 

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -” 

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind. 

Another daughter? 

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths. 

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away. 

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words. 

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself. 

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her. 

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her. 

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her. 

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished. 

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents died, God, it sounded so much like her’s.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her. 

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor. 

Juliet was shaking when she returned to her body, when the firm grip of her memory released her. Every inch of her body trembled. 

She lay on the ground staring at the ceiling, like she had done so many times in her father’s basement. 

But he wasn’t her father. Was he? 

Juliet couldn’t figure out if her mind was playing tricks on her, or had it been trying to protect her this whole time by shielding her from this memory.

He wasn’t her father, not truly. 

The man who had hit her, suffocated her, branded her, kept her locked up for days, weeks at a time… wasn’t actually her father. 

He had kidnapped her.

Juliet felt a similar nausea rise in her at that moment. 

Her real parents were dead. 

She began to crawl on her hands and knees towards the stairs, ignoring the blood trailing in her wake. Her knee wasn’t broken but the skin was burst. 

But Juliet felt no pain. Her mind was too consumed by its own horror. 

She had to get out of here. Juliet reached the stairs and, by some miracle, stumbled up them and closed the basement door. She leaned against it, ensuring it was closed and that nothing else down there could hurt her. 

Her body felt like it was shutting down.

Her whole life, Juliet had wondered if she was like her father. They shared blood, after all, how could they be different? She lay awake at night, terrified for the day she would become like him. 

She gasped out a choked sob when she realised that everything she knew was a lie. 

He was a madman, a psychopath. And she was his victim. 

Juliet slid down the door when her legs gave out on her. 

She’d had parents, real parents who might have loved her. Did other people know? In her father’s community surely people would have questioned him when he returned with an infant who he had no relation to. Wouldn’t they? 

Someone there had to know where she came from. Someone in her father’s community had to know the truth about her. 

Juliet’s mind was racing and her blood roared in her ears as she stood on trembling legs. 

She couldn’t stay here, in Jackson. Juliet needed closure, she craved it now. 

It was the only thought in her mind as she sped up the stairs and changed into the clothes she usually wore for patrol. Ten minutes later, her bag was packed and her boots were laced. 

Juliet thought of nothing but a hazy imaging of her parents. She flinched every time her father’s face entered her mind, gloating about the way he had killed them. 

She would go back there and find out who her parents had been and where she came from, then she would return with the closure she so desperately needed. Juliet would move on, she would be with Joel, everything would be okay. 

Some distant part of her brain screamed at her to slow down, to think things through, to sleep on it. Her muscles urged her to change her mind, to tell someone, to stop being so reckless. 

But how could she tell someone what raged in her mind? No one would understand. 

Juliet had just learned that she wasn’t actually destined to become her father’s daughter, she was never supposed to have been raised by him, never supposed to have been hurt by him. 

She had been stolen, her fate had been altered. 

And so she had to steal it back. 

………………………….

The streets were dead as she raced through them. Most of the town’s residents were still at the dance, leaving the path to the stables clear of any onlookers. 

Juliet kept her mind focused on her task. She couldn’t allow herself to think of anything else, anyone else. She would come back, she knew the way. 

The stables appeared before her quicker than she had expected but Juliet didn’t allow any fear to enter her body. She sprinted to her horse, apologising to her as she readied her for travel. 

Juliet could feel wet tears on her cheeks but she ignored them. 

Her horse was almost ready when she heard the stable doors open. 

Juliet kicked her bag out of sight and planted herself against the wall as she held her breath. 

Irritation pulsed through her. Every delay was another second where she didn’t know the truth about herself. 

Juliet gasped when a face appeared before her. 

A very angry face. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” he demanded, breathing heavy. 

“Joel,” Juliet whispered.

_______________________________

@amyispxnk @casa-boiardi @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf @mysaviorjoelmiller @chlojoceycom

[skinnyazn]

I Will Not Ask and Neither Should You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 2/3 Notes: inspired by Hozier's Like Real People Do, Jag Backstory unlocked!!!

Part One | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST Why were you digging? / What did you bury Before those hands pulled me / From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from / I will not ask and neither should you

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You were in the kitchen getting water for the both of you when the message came in.

55.7249º N, 37.5541º E. Tuesday, 14:00. 

The +7 country code made a cold sweat break over your body. Russia. You didn’t know how the sender got your number, but if it was who you thought, they would have their ways. All you could do was stare at your phone as your heart hammered through your chest.

“Everything al’right?”

You hadn’t even noticed Simon come up behind you.

“Mmhmm,” you managed, passing him a glass of water as you set your phone screen-down on the counter. You lowered your head onto your arms, resting them on the surface to hide your face while you backed your nakedness against the colossus of a man. A raspy grunt was his response.

“Dangerous, Jag,” Simon warned, but closed the gap all the same. He kissed your shoulders and back, setting down the glass of water next to your phone. “Heart’s racin’,” he murmured against your skin as his hands smoothed down to your hips. “Can hear it from ‘ere.”

“You have that effect on me.” It wasn’t a lie—not usually. But at present, the contents of the text message were still etched into your brain. You felt like throwing up.

“Thought you needed a break, luv.”

“Changed my mind,” you tried your best to even your voice, but it still came out shaky.

Ghost’s hands stilled on your hips as he paused. “We don’t ‘ave to—” 

“Need you, Simon,” you interrupted, raising your head to look back at him while snaking his tattooed hand up and around your neck.

Dark eyes glinted in the low light, looking at the phone on the counter, then searching yours for a moment—for an out, a reason. But all they found was benediction. He tightened his grip around your throat and kissed you softly.

When your beautiful man was finally asleep, sound and unsuspecting, you hated yourself for exploiting his weaknesses. For knowing that he got sloppy around you in this domestic setting; that he slept deeper—you both did—after a few rounds. That he knew you’d get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or refill your water.

You slipped out of the warm bed, packing as quietly as you could—shoving your life with Simon “Ghost” Riley into your black duffel. Hating yourself more as you scribbled on the back of a receipt and set it down next to his mask.

Something I have to do. 

You looked at him one last time—perhaps for the final time. His blonde hair was exposed, his ultimate layer of trust in you; you watched his scared back softly rise and fall as he slept. Numbness ran through your body at stupidity of thinking you’d finally escaped your past. Cut all the ties. That you naively thought you had built something here, too. People in your line of work never get happy endings. Your throat tightened as you slipped through the front door, locking it behind you. Your cab was already gone by the time he woke.

______

Moscow was frigid and covered in a light dusting of snow when you landed. And all those memories of a life left behind seeped back up from their well of suppression on the cab ride to the coordinates. It seemed like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was. There was a split in the road then, where you made a choice. One that lead you to San Francisco and to Kokshetau and to Leeds. One where you chose your life. 

Yet here you were, back in the cold and snow—despair growing in the pit of your stomach with each mile passed. You worried your jaguar pendant between gloved fingers.

The cab stilled in front of large bronze doors, now a dull green after centuries of oxidation.

Новодевичье кладбище: Novodevichy Cemetery.

You paid the fare and got out, duffel slung over your shoulder. There were tourists and locals alike visiting the historic cemetery. It made you even more on edge as you entered through the double doors. You were too vulnerable out here in the open. 

Checking your watch, you were thirty minutes early, giving you enough time to scope out the location. It calmed you some, passing by the beautiful tombstones and monuments of Russia’s most notable and respected citizens. Anton Chekhov, Vera Mukhina, Lyudmila Gurchenko. Pristine marble and greying stone and wet concrete. It was an odd location for a meeting but you hoped with all the people around you could let your guard down a little. You wandered through the maze of the deceased. But then you saw it: a mound of freshly laid earth and an ornate marble bust. You stopped completely. Felt your heart stuck in your throat and a flush of heat to your face. Your hands went numb as you just stared. 

Vladislava Ignatyev.

The thread that lead you to where you were now. In memory you heard the gentle clink of a tea cup and the soft rustling of a maid’s dress.

You’d make a fine spy one day, my beautiful Odette.

That your wish or mine?

Neither. It’s your nature, dear. The same way a fish takes to water or a swan flight. 

…

You can give me that look but you know I’m right. You were a caged, pretty little thing when I discovered you. And now you’ve grown majestically into your true nature. Just remember who gave you your wings when you are enjoying your freedom. My door will always be open for you…

The marble bust on the cold floor did the older woman no justice. It failed to capture her elegance and the magnitude of her character. You’d learned so much from her. Vladislava was a woman who silenced a room when she entered, through no other means than just being her. And now she was in the cold ground beneath you. Beauty and stature decaying. You wanted to cry but the tears would not come.

“It’s you…”

The gentle voice snapped you to the present again. Standing across from you was a handsome man, with blonde, wavy hair falling to frame his young face. His blue eyes took you in.

You inhaled deeply. “Dimitri.”

He smiled and you felt a tightness in your chest.

“I…I was not sure you would come.” Low chatter from the other visitors passing by filled the silence as you took each other in. His smile grew wider. “You look so different, and yet exactly how I remember you.”

“And you’ve grown,” you found yourself returning the smile slightly. Dimitri shifted on his feet, like he wanted to take your hand like he used to, but knowing that too much time had passed. You continued, “Surprised you even recognized me.”

He looked at you kindly and chuckled. “You weren’t always in ballet attire, my lisIchka. The short hair suits you though.”

You ran your gloved fingers through your choppy hair, recalling the muscle memory that had sleeked it into a taught bun countless times in the past—not a flyway in sight. Streamline. Efficient. Orderly. Your true nature. 

Dimitri stepped around the grave so that he was facing it too, the both of you staring at the bust on the floor.

“We were just kids, then, weren’t we?”

You hummed. “You more-so.” You sucked in a breath. “When did she pass?”

“Last week. A stroke. It was so sudden—she had been in perfectly good health," his voice wavered slightly. “I was the one who found her in her bed in the morning. She just looked like she was sleeping...”

The statue’s hollowed eyes stared into nothingness. You had to look away, so you looked up at Dimitri. “I owe your mother a lot. I… I’m sorry I never came back,” you paused, studying the side of his face. He must be twenty six now—a decade gone in the blink of an eye; all those memories of the two of you when you were younger filtered back. You steadied your breath. “But I had to experience the world for myself.”

The younger man turned to you. “I understand. Never could keep you caged. No one could.”

You smiled but it didn’t meet your eyes. Nostalgia was a deceiver.

Dimitri cleared his throat. “There is another reason I asked you here, though. Something I have for you. From Vladislava.”

He reached into his wool peacoat and procured a long velvet box. Hesitating, you reached for the it, staring at the plain box in your hands before opening it. 

It was the necklace that Vladislava had worn the night you first met: a massive canary diamond choker, surrounded by ornate gold and diamonds. You recalled the burning in your legs as you took your closing bow for the Vaganova Ballet Academy, peering into the crowd and seeing a glint of yellow among the blur of the audience. She’d come to you after, as you were removing all the feathers and makeup backstage. Introduced herself. You had no idea her influence at the time; you were only eighteen. But soon you were living with her. Wandering her massive estate with Dimitri. Being her eyes and ears at events with the most affluent; sometimes the most corrupt as well. Learning all you could from her as you started down a completely different path than when you first moved to Russia.

The significance of the necklace wasn’t lost on you as you stared down at the gorgeous piece. You closed the box quietly.

“I can’t take this, Dima,” you passed the box back to him, but he didn’t move. He just looked down at you, fondness in his eyes at the familiarity of his moniker. He wrapped his hands over yours.

“I'm afraid you don’t have a choice, lisIchka. It was in her will.” His hands stayed for a moment, then fell back to his side. 

You simply stared at the box. 

“You know,” he said softly, moving slightly closer to you, “there’s always a place for you here. In Moscow. At our home.”

And for a moment, the sun peaked through the grey day, alighting Dima’s golden hair. But when you looked at him, all you saw was Simon and his flat and the rain and his warmth. You gave a sad smile.

“Ah,” he said, understandingly.

You reached out and took his hand, running your gloved-thumb over his knuckles. “In another life, perhaps.”

He squeezed back. “I’ll look for you, then.”

You heart hurt at the whole situation. Vladislava was a force, now extinguished. And a childhood crush had clearly become something more. You held onto him for a while longer, then finally let go of his hand.

“Well, you must be exhausted from your travels,” Dima looked around. The oppressive sky was continuing to lighten. “To be honest I wasn’t sure you would even come, but I reserved a room for you at the Kempinski anyway. Stay as long as you need.”

You tucked the box into you jacket and looked at the younger man one last time, reaching up to touch his face. “Thank you for everything, Dima.” He leaned into your caress. “Take care of yourself.”

“And you.”

You gave a final glance at the grave, then left, not looking back. ______

Dima bb we're so sorry T^T Thanks for the wait, one more chapter to go! if you'd like to be (un)tagged for updates let me know! @deadbranch @solidly-indulgent @aalxrose @dotcie

[thevelria]

Dear Satoru... (SFW/soldier!Gojo x fem!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's no warning this time. It's pure fluff! Enjoy <3

Wordcount:2231

Author's note: Thanks for my sweet @ladycheesington for the help <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was fun, you felt happy and relaxed with the girls at the bar. It was a long time ago since you were able to spend a night out with them, just like in the old days. Life has changed and you all grew up. Becoming adults from those teenage girls who once wanted to save the whole world. As you were waiting at the counter, tapping your feet to the rhythm of the current song you spotted a group of soldiers walking in. All of them were wearing the same uniform, which made them truly attractive. One of them, the tallest one with snow white hair and ocean blue eyes, caught your attention instantly. The second he made eye contact with you and even sent a soft smile towards you, the blush crawled upon your face quickly.

Chatting and laughing with the girls about sweet nothings a waiter appeared at your table.

“Your drink, ma’am.” he placed it in front of you politely.

“Uhm, I didn’t order anything.” you furrowed your brow.

“That man over there…” he pointed at the handsome soldier “sent the drink to you.” he smiled before leaving the table.

You placed your fingers around the glass, slowly grabbing and raising it up high with a slight nod towards him. He bit his bottom lip gently and raised his own drink to the air as well. 

As the night passed the girls wanted to dance. They begged you to join them, but you weren’t really in the mood. 

“Go, go!” you shooed them away. Staying alone at the table after a few minutes you saw the white haired man standing up and walking exactly to you. 

“May I?” he asked, looking at the chair next to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo.”

“Sure.” you smiled “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N L/N. By the way, I’ve never seen you guys before. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.” he chuckled. “It’s the night before we deploy overseas and we wanted to have some drinks tonight. Maybe dancing a bit. Speaking of which, would you…?” he stood up, while offering his hand to take.

“I’m not a great dancer.” you took his hand hesitantly. 

“It’s a slow song anyway.” he teased. 

The music was relaxing and exciting at the same time, as you moved your body to the rhythm, letting him put his huge palms on your hips. You threw your hands around his neck and rested your cheek on his massive chest. It felt nice, it felt calming…it felt natural. 

The rest of the night rushed away and you didn’t even realize it was getting really late. 

“We should leave.” one of his comrades walked up to your table, placing a hand on Gojo’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Just give me a minute. I’ll join you soon.” he flashed a not too honest smile. “I’m glad we met.” he turned back to you after the guy left. “Can I have your number? We could text, if you want.”

“Sure.” you nodded “Give me your phone.”

You typed your number and made a call, so now you had his number as well. “I don’t know what is the proper way to say goodbye. Stay safe, maybe?” you giggled awkwardly.

“Yeah. I will, don’t worry.” he blushed slightly, before standing up and joining his team. 

***

It had been weeks since that amazing night with Gojo. In the beginning you were thinking of him a lot. You hesitated to either text him or wait for him to start a conversation. After a week you gave in and sent him a short but cute message.

“Hey, it’s me, Y/N. I hope everything’s fine over there.”

But since you didn’t receive any response you slowly let it go. Five more weeks had passed, when out of the blue your phone buzzed in the middle of the night. You didn’t wake up to the sound of your phone, so you saw the message only in the morning. 

“Hey, Y/N. I’m so sorry that I didn’t text you earlier. In my defense I’ve been on a mission for weeks and wasn’t able to use any internet connection. I suggest you write me a letter to the address I leave at the end of the message. In that way we’ll be able to keep in touch. Can’t wait to hear from you!”

Somehow you felt more excited about the text as you expected. A warm feeling crawled under your skin and you swung your legs over the bed immediately, jumping off and rushing to your desk quickly. After searching for some letter paper you started to write that very first letter. 

You had no idea it was going to become a weekly habit, which you were doing so happily. It became natural after a few weeks. The most beautiful sound to your ears was the postman’s yelling, making a sign that Gojo’s letter arrived. 

The first thing you did was ripping up the envelope and reading every single sentence eagerly. Probably more than once, because you rushed through so quickly at first that you couldn’t remember what he actually wrote to you. Grabbing the paper and the pen you started to write right away, using the exact same greeting as always.

“Dear Satoru,

I’m so happy that I finally got your letter. I swear moments like this are the highlights of my week. It’s safe to say I’m getting addicted to writing you letters. 

I know you’re not allowed to talk about the things you do there, I don’t even ask you to do it. But I do hope that everything goes well and you are safe. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about you. (Stop laughing!) I can’t help it, okay? I wish we could meet and I don’t know, just spend a nice evening together, talking about things we usually do in these letters. Wouldn’t it be nice? I think it totally would be!

I also know my writing is chaotic since I’m jumping from one topic to another all the time, but I’m sure you can bear with it. Right? 

Speaking of chaos… The other day I woke up with a terrible headache, so I decided to take a relaxing shower. I can’t remember if I mentioned it before, but I’m terrified of spiders. Anyway, now you know it for sure. So I was washing my hair, when I looked up at the ceiling and spotted that beast. I swear my heart skipped a beat. I wanted to finish quickly and leave the bathroom as soon as possible. But my spider buddy thought otherwise. The next moment I looked up, he disappeared! He was just not there! You know, where he was? Yeah… halfway down. My blood froze in my veins, I never in my life left the shower as fast as I did then. I ran to the kitchen for some bug spray and grabbed the broom. And guess what? I was brave enough to kill it! 

Phew, even thinking about it now gives me goosebumps. So as you can see, I’m a hero myself as well. 

I hope to hear from you soon, ‘Toru. 

xoxo,

Y/N”

Gojo was just as eager to read your letter as you were about his. Especially laughing at the part, where you asked him not to. A wilde smile appeared on his face, while reading about your battle against the spider. He truly adored you and found you super cute. During the day he caught himself daydreaming about you, creating scenarios in his mind, how would he ask you out on a date. How he would treat you the best he could. Actually he got to the realization he grew fond of you, forming feelings he wouldn’t think it was possible. Satoru Gojo was undeniably falling for you. 

That night he sat down in his chair and got ready to write you the letter. But this time he was aware it was going to be a bit different from the previous ones. He wanted to test the water, but was just cautious enough not to cross any line. After all, you wrote some interesting things as well. 

“Dear Y/N,

First of all I need to say thank you for making me laugh. Your letter was truly entertaining to read. Daydreaming about me? That’s very sweet of you. What exactly do you daydream about? Let me tell you a secret… I do the same. I catch myself thinking of you lately way too often. I’m certain it would be wonderful to spend an evening together and chatting like we did at the bar that night. Remember? I also recall that dance we shared. What was the song? Oh, yeah. Broken by Lovelytheband. I listen to that song quite often. 

I’m amazed how brave you were while eliminating your arch enemy. But I have to be honest my mind zoned out a bit, when you mentioned you were taking a shower. I wish I was there… I mean, I wish I was there to protect you from that spider. 

My days are the same as usual, which is fine. When a soldier is bored it means everything is calm. I wish I could tell you more, but unfortunately I can’t.

Nowadays I read a lot. Currently I’m reading The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry. I enjoy the drama and I’m so rooting for the main characters to get together, even if it seems impossible. In my opinion, when something seems completely unlikely it doesn’t mean it can’t happen. I mean I’ve never thought I’d find a girl like you and yet here we are, aren’t we? Do you like reading? If yes, do you have a favorite book? 

I’m already looking forward to hearing about your next adventure. Please take care!

Truly yours, 

Satoru”

Gojo proofreaded his letter at least four times before sliding it into a simple envelope and closing it, while biting his bottom lip. He knew exactly that he hid some sentences with a double meaning between the lines and he was eager to find out your reaction. 

“I wished you were here, too…” was your first thought, when you read his letter. And got yourself blushing at the idea of being in the shower with him. “Damn you, ‘Toru…” you sighed, slightly shaking your head “What are you doing to me?”

***

Satoru was tapping his feet nervously in the taxi, holding a bouquet, biting his bottom lip. He just landed a few hours ago. After going home and getting ready his first thing was to visit you. Surprise you. And man, you were more than surprised. 

In the middle of the evening you heard some knocking on the door. You furrowed your brows, as you walked in the direction of the noise. You didn’t really expect anyone to show up, so you were curious who it could be. One more knock, a bit louder one this time.

“I’m coming!” you shouted and hurried your steps.

As you opened the door you froze in your action for a second. But only for a brief second.

“‘Toru!” you screamed as you jumped into his neck like it would have been the most natural thing to do. He almost lost his balance and stepped back a few times, while you were clinging on him like a Koala, hands around his neck, legs around his waist.

Gojo tried his best not to laugh at your unexpected reaction, holding you with one of his hands, while trying not to drop your beautiful bouquet either. But when he heard you sobbing his expression changed immediately.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey…it’s okay.” he hushed you with such a gentle voice, but it just made you cry even more. You weren’t able to say a single word, just hugging him tight and taking his sweet scent in. 

Satoru wasn’t sure what to do, he didn’t want to put you down either, he loved feeling your body pressing against his own. And actually he found your action really cute. The first step was cautious, but you didn’t react, so he kept walking right into your home. His eyes swept the area, before he decided to head to the kitchen. The second he softly lowered you on the counter you snapped back to reality and let go of his body.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.” you rubbed your eyelids with the back of your hand. “You really did surprise me.” you chuckled awkwardly, while blushing from head to toe. 

“Well, I can tell…” he teased. “But I’m glad I made you happy.” he looked away, as he felt the blush on his face as well. “Here, I brought this for you.” he handed you the flowers. The beautiful blue roses, which happened to be your favorite ones. 

“I will put them into water.” you wiggled on the counter, but he stepped closer, standing exactly between your legs.

“Can we stay like this for a second?” he cooed, pulling you into his chest, hugging you tight. 

“I know it sounds weird and everything…” you mumbled under your nose “but I missed you terribly.” you hummed, while clenching your fingers into his shirt on his back. 

“I’m here now, princess and I’m not going to go anywhere anymore.” he planted a featherlight kiss at the top of your head. 

[soulgazingwithbucky]

Details (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Maybe you and Bucky just weren't meant to be. Alpine (dis)respectfully disagrees.

Based on a prompt from this generator: "Y/N and Bucky break up, but they have a pet and neither of them want to give it up. Then they spend a few days each with the pet separately. But it kinda helps them get together again."

Warnings: mentions of food & alcohol

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Writing this fic taught me that the Venn diagram of romantic flowers and things toxic to cats is a circle. I wrote this listening to Trust by Brent Faiyaz radio on Spotify, so I have no choice but to share it for any other hip hop/R&B fans <3 If you find yourself enjoying this, feel free to check out my other works here <3

You were the sun up above, he was fallen snow.

You were the beauty of flower petals, he was the strength of tree roots.

You were a song belted out loud, he was comfortable silence.

It took you a while to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. But,

as they say,

good things come to those who wait.

You were big picture, he was details. You were looking too broadly; he slipped between the cracks. You crept into every corner of his brain until it was an overfilled balloon. Oh, how he had pined until you finally saw him as he saw you. It was torture, those few months before you took his hands in yours, leaning in for that first kiss that ignited every nerve in his body.

The more time you spent with him, the more certain you felt about his psychic abilities. He knew you so well, like he was reading your thoughts. Or seeing the future. Was it an effect of the serum? But he indulged you in his secret: he just paid a painful amount of attention.

When you scratched your throat, he would get you a glass of water. Always three ice cubes.

When you shifted in your seat, he would take your leg and message it, pressing firm circles into the back of your calves.

When your eyebrows scrunched and made that little crease in between, he would kiss it. When he pulled away, it was gone.

He was details.

You mused that he should reserve that expertise for saving the world. He left a flutter of kisses on your knuckles, telling each finger that he would have no better use of his skills than to keep you happy.

You were grander than life. He was sure that if you had been the one alive for a century, you would have lived each year to its fullest. He looked up to you, his idol, his inspiration.

The sound of tape unraveling broke you out of your stupor.

Loud, screeching, sudden.

A fitting call back to reality.

Bending at the knee, Bucky gingerly placed the box in front of you. You knew he could’ve lifted and dropped it with just his pinky finger; it would’ve been the equivalent of you dropping a sheet of paper.

But he was always so considerate of you. Your feelings.

Your reactions.

You.

“I think that’s the last one,” he told you. A lie. He knew it was the last one.

“Thank you,” you said, staring at the box, rotating it to find the cutout handles.

CLOTHES, he had scribbled on every side in thick sharpie, the writing comically large. He was thinking of you, in your new home, surrounded by replicas of the same brown cardboard box. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you.

It, the situation he had put you both in.

You were larger than life. But he had made you feel smaller than an atom. Like a child's once overused coat that now collected dust in the back of a dark closet.

Your name, so tender on his gruff tongue, drew you out of your thoughts.

You kept your face stony. You didn’t dare think what it had betrayed when you dove into the recesses of your mind.

“Sorry,” you spoke.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. Stay, he thought.

You stood, rummaging in your pocket. Well, his pocket. His sweatpants. You acted like you forgot they were his; he acted like he forgot, too. At least some part of him would still be with you.

A silver key emerged in your outstretched hand. His finger twitched. You noticed that.

He taught you to.

Then he reached out, closing the space between the two of you. His fingers curled over yours, ridding the key from sight.

“Keep it,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Shared custody,” was his attempt to lighten the mood. As if on cue, Alpine rounded the corner.

you summoned, dad? she seemed to say, grazing the doorway as she made her way over.

Be strong, you had demanded earlier, pointing at yourself accusingly in the rearview mirror. Do not give in. Don’t let him see you falter.

But this beautiful, aggravating, wonderful cat was your whole world (surpassing Bucky, you made sure to tell him regularly), and you felt the tears well up. You thought you had finally run out. What an awful time to find you were wrong.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure,” he said firmly. “I-”

The syllable lingered in the air. He had to be strong, for you. It was the least he could do. He brought this on himself, and he had to see it through. He had no idea how to balance the whole hero thing and being in love thing. He had never done it before. What an awful way to find out he did everything wrong.

He would never forget the day the straw broke the camel’s back. He had told you he needed to reschedule your Saturday date, not knowing the day you had planned out. But Wakanda had requested his and Sam’s presence at a UN meeting; you both knew they seldom called in favors from him. Your lip quivered in failed restraint until you abruptly stood up, nearly toppling over the takeout containers on your lap. Everything poured out of you in that moment, loud and endless and angry. Bucky had shut down, staring straight ahead with hardened eyes until you grabbed your things and left.

He was details. He was a quick pick-me-up after a hard day at work. He was a quiet back rub during a feel-good movie. He was a gentle reminder about that one errand you could never seem to remember.

He wasn't big picture. He wasn't a step back to see the writing on the wall. He wasn't the pieces coming together. He wasn't the painful realization of you weren't happy. Not until it was too late, anyway.

“I'll walk you to your car,” he offered. He hesitated before picking up a few boxes. Don’t be stupid, James. Don’t hope for her to change her mind. “Get the door, doll? Sorry. Could you...get the door, please?”

You managed to nod, though you felt as if every bone in your body had merged into one. You opened the door and watched him walk away with your life in a few measly boxes.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, dragging in several bags of groceries. You harped on him for having a total of three items in his refrigerator, and stopped your movie night to go to the grocery store at 10pm. The clerks were not happy with you.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, gingerly holding Alpine in her carrier. He did let you hold one thing that time- Alpine’s medication. You both loved her too much to let Bucky carry anything else but her, especially after the scare she had put you both through.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, muffled over the armfuls of flowers, chocolates, and balloons. Your last Valentine’s together, though neither of you knew it would carry that title. You had laughed at the ridiculous sight of wine bottles tucked into his back pockets.

“I'm sorry,” he said after loading the last of the boxes into your car. He left enough space in the middle seat for you to still use your rearview mirror.

“Don’t,” you whispered. You had had enough of empty apologies. So do something about it. So end it if you wanted to focus on work. So ask Sam to enlist the help of literally any other superhero. Dr. Banner could get it done in, like, five seconds, you once huffed.

“But I am.”

You knew he was. And that made everything worse. The deadly Avenger with the unstoppable arm, capable of defeating Outriders and Flag Smashers. But to you, just your sweet and gentle Bucky. Your sweet, gentle Bucky, who revealed a side to you that no one else got to see. The hero of incredible strength, who held you like you were the lightest of feathers.

You knew that this was as new a world to him as it was to you. You had many a mirror pep talk reminding yourself of this. But you couldn’t help that empty feeling. You became a longing glance at other couples, kissing and hugging and laughing, while you sat in the empty booth. Another last-minute mission for your mighty hero meant another drink for you, liquid in your cup deterring the glistening in your eyes. You became a forced smile, an ongoing habit at work parties and social gatherings, dismissing everyone’s questions about why the hero wasn’t by your side. You became nostalgia, looking at old videos of Bucky on your phone, because you could count on the memories of the man more than the man himself.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said, speaking to your car door handle. You hadn’t met each other’s eyes once this entire time. You were kind of glad. You just knew one look would leave you gasping for air, lungs suddenly rid of breath and replaced with a whirlpool of ocean blue, the gray and cobalt turning your intestines into a loop.

You didn’t stay to hear his response. You got in your car, turned on the engine, and reversed out of the parking lot.

Don’t look back

Don’t look back

Don’t- Oh, for god’s sake. Of course you looked back.

There he was, still and staring. You knew he wouldn’t leave that spot until your car was completely out of sight. Making sure you were safe.

The next few weeks were filled with lots of ice cream, cheap wine, shitty movie nights, social media algorithms feeding you breakup posts, loud bars with too many people, your friends and family checking in, more tears (fuck, they never run out), takeout delivered to your doorstep, maybe an impulse buy or two…

When you were in distress, Alpine would always sit on your lap until your uneven breaths were in line with her quiet purrs. You would stroke her fur and mutter a thank you while you kissed the top of her head. She would eventually be irked by your flurry of kisses and promptly leave, knowing you were okay.

And so you found yourself turning onto an all-too-familiar street, pulling into an all-too-familiar lot, walking up to an all-too-familiar door.

Whatever trance you were in broke as soon as you felt the jagged edge of the key in your hand. You came to your senses long enough to reluctantly send Bucky a text, asking if you could pay your favorite girl a visit.

His response was almost immediate, shining brightly on your phone screen.

Open invite.

You sighed gratefully, though his response didn't indicate whether he would be in attendance. You pressed your ear to the door, and were greeted with silence. Carefully, you entered your former home.

It smelled like amber, like pine, like leather. Like Bucky. It was overpowering, threatening to shut off all your senses until-

Your heart melted as you spotted Alpine, summoned by the sound of the door. You hadn’t even let yourself into the space, instead falling to your knees and spreading your arms right there by the door. She came to you, stepping on your thighs and pulling herself up to your chest. You embraced her, and your tears fell.

You and Alpine stayed like that for a while, until she wriggled out of your grasp and disappeared.

that's enough, she seemed to say. dust yourself off.

You retrieved a few treats from the cupboard, leaving it for her on her favorite spot on the coffee table.

Your rendezvous continued every week. You seemed to have found the magical window of time where Bucky Barnes was never in his apartment. A weekly debrief with Sam, you guessed by the sticky notes on the fridge. You time, Alpine time.

At first, you stayed in front of the door, not daring to leave the space occupied by the doormat. Alpine would come to you, until she wouldn’t.

She coaxed you to the kitchen first, pawing at where Bucky kept her food. You gave her a little extra in her bowl, knowing that Bucky had already fed her. He was religious about it.

If she could roll her eyes, she would. 

i’ll indulge you this time, she seemed to say, nibbling while you sat on the ground and petted her.

Next was the living room. She walked across the cushions, inviting you.

i haven’t got all day, she seemed to say.

You sat next to her, feeling the familiar sink of the cushion beneath you. Though you sat uncomfortably, your spine stick straight and your bum right on the edge of the couch.

You left her treats every time, in the same spot. You didn’t notice how the bag seemed to magically refill every time.

On your next visit, Alpine napped peacefully on the glass coffee table, right next to a thin vase of flowers.

You flinched. He had decorated. For someone else? But as you stepped in, you recognized the blush pink hue of camellias.

Alpine’s eyes slowly opened until she registered your presence. She walked around the vase, tail adding a dramatic flourish. Totally unnecessary, as the plant stood out enough in Bucky’s horrifically monochrome home.

dad said they were your favorite, she seemed to say.

A week later, Alpine purred in your lap as you leaned back on the soft couch, even daring to turn on the television. You were greeted by an array of music videos lining the search history. All the songs you told him to listen to, but thought he never did.

“This one is the best,” you told Alpine, gesturing to the most recent video played. She looked up at you.

dad’s only played it a million times, she seemed to say as she lengthened her body into a stretch.

“Huh,” you said on your next visit. A single magnet sat on the fridge door, a cartoon bear operating a gondola. A souvenir Bucky picked up after a conference in Italy. Also known as, your old message to Bucky when he came home in the dead of night from assignments. It meant, food inside. eat, please, then come to bed. i love you. He would sit his aching body, massaging a bruise or picking at Sam's shoddy gauze work, and enjoy the meal you prepared.

It must have been a fluke, but you found yourself pulling open the fridge door. A nearly empty fridge, save for a styrofoam container perched on the middle rack.

You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying your comfort meal from the Thai restaurant you could never stop praising, while Alpine watched you lazily.

“Tell him thank you,” you told her sheepishly. “I guess.”

i’ll think about it, she seemed to say as she yawned and walked away.

Every time you visited, there was a small gesture to make your stay just a little more comfortable. Your favorite tub of ice cream. Your favorite candle. Your favorite author's new book. This was Bucky's love. It was quiet. It was subtle. It crept up on you, like the smile you didn’t know you were wearing. He was details.

You filled up his fridge, a colorful combination of fruit, vegetables, and snacks. You brought in bags full of throw pillows and blankets, arranging it carefully in his home. The muted colors looked blinding in contrast with the monochrome pieces Bucky preferred.

And this was your love. It was the big-ass elephant in the room, if the elephant also yelled, "Hello! I'm here!" It was a clown car, pouring out in impossible amounts. It demanded to be seen, it demanded to be heard.

“Big it is,” Bucky said, feeling the cool air of the fridge, staring at the arrangement of food that threatened to spill over.

Alpine had the honor of watching you both. There was a lot she seemed to say.

You hummed, turning the key until you heard the lock free itself.

Balloons grazed the ceiling, shaped in cheesy hearts and shining proudly in metallic pink and red. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and roses, asters and camellias greeted you from the tables and countertops. You heard the familiar rhythm of your favorite song filling the air.

Alpine stood in the middle of it all, mewing happily and swiping at one of the many balloon strings.

Bucky stepped out from the doorway that led to his bedroom, just barely. You could make out the blue shirt that stretched over his chest, the wrinkles in his pants, the nervous twitch of his jaw.

"No debrief?" you said hesitantly, stopping short at the door.

"Cancelled. I had something that took precedence.

“Alpine insisted on the decor. I told her it was too much,” he said sheepishly, still gauging your reactions, gesturing towards his pet that paid both of you absolutely no mind.

You stared at him in disbelief, still not sure he was really there, in front of you, but you couldn't help but laugh.

“I worked on a schedule,” he said quickly, “with Sam. We called Clint, we got his advice.”

“Uh-huh,” you said absentmindedly, dropping your bag on a chair.

“Even Scott had some advice, but a lot of it depended on being on house arrest…”

“Sure,” you said, fingers grazing over rose petals.

“All this to say, I'm sorry. And I know you hate hearing it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but if you were-”

“Bucky?” you interrupted, taking one last step to close the gap between you two. In his anxious state, he hadn’t realized you were making your way over to him. Your fingers reached out, the prickle of his stubble tickling your fingertips. He sighed into your touch as you traced the chain of his dog tags, setting off the familiar jingle of metal.

“Yes?” he breathed, barely audible. His arms stayed at his side, heavy as anvils, the desire to trace your curves overwhelming but wondering if he was deserving.

“Say what you need to say,” you murmured, “quickly.” You wrapped your arms around his neck; he lowered his head until your foreheads rested against each other. His hazy blue eyes rested underneath furrowed brows, tense with regret.

“I'll do it right this time.” He spoke to your lips, and you watched as his eyes dipped low, masking the blue behind a curtain of eyelashes. “For you. For us.”

“I'm just here for the cat, Barnes,” you responded with a smile, pressing your lips to his.

He chuckled, feeling sensation return to his arms. He cupped his hands underneath your thighs and lifted. You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his torso and your hands gripped the back of his shirt.

Alpine paused her playdate with a curling ribbon just long enough to watch you two disappear into the bedroom.

my job here is done, she seemed to say.