#(because even if you have gone through the same thing... it's not going to look the same as somebody else going through that)

[halfmoonaria]

this christmas, without us

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: you and tara are forced to play the roles of a happy couple at the christmas dinner.

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: merry christmas!!

Tara didn't want to be there. Not tonight, not with you.

She'd been dreading it since the day Sam announced the Christmas dinner. The idea of sitting in a room filled with people who thought they knew the two of you, pretending like everything was the same as it had always been, made her stomach churn.

It wasn't the same. It hadn't been the same in weeks—not since she'd looked you in the eyes and told you the words she couldn't take back.

Even now, the memory of your face in that moment was enough to make her chest ache, a sharp reminder of what she'd done. You hadn't cried, hadn't yelled.

You'd just gone quiet, retreating into a silence that had spoken louder than anything you could have said. She'd expected you to pull away completely after that, but you hadn't. You stayed. For her.

Which was exactly why she shouldn't have asked you to come.

But she had.

She'd waited too long to bring it up, hoping—praying, even—that she could find a way to avoid the whole thing altogether. A last-minute excuse. Anything to save you from the act you'd have to put on, the mask of someone still in love when the truth was hanging between you like a storm cloud. But the excuses didn't come, and when Sam asked if she was bringing you, Tara panicked.

"Yes," she'd said, and that was that.

The alternative wasn't any better. Showing up alone would've only raised questions, questions she couldn't answer. Questions Sam wouldn't let go. Tara could already hear her sister's voice in her head, dripping with fake sympathy, every word a jab meant to land right where it hurt.

"Guess she finally realized she isn't good enough for you."

The worst part was that everyone would believe it. Because no one could imagine it was the other way around. No one would believe that Tara was the one who wasn't enough—not for you, not for the kind of love you gave her.

They'd all look at you, with your easy laugh and unwavering kindness, and then at her, the girl who couldn't even hold onto the one person who had ever truly cared.

But Tara wouldn't let them blame you. She couldn't. You had been everything she needed, more than she deserved. That much was true, no matter how much she wished it didn't hurt to admit it.

She thought back to the night she'd asked you, still sitting uncomfortably in her chest. It had been late—late enough for most people to be asleep, but she knew you wouldn't be. You liked the quiet of the night, the way the world slowed down and felt like it belonged only to you.

She hadn't forgotten that, even if she told herself she'd forgotten everything else.

Her fingers had hovered over your name on her phone for what felt like forever, the screen casting a faint glow in the dark of her room.

Calling you was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn't have a choice. Texting would've been too impersonal, and not asking at all would've meant facing the group alone.

When you'd picked up, your voice had been soft, like you already knew why she was calling but were too kind to make it hard for her.

She'd stammered through her words, trying to keep the conversation going long enough to delay the inevitable. A part of her hoped you'd hang up first, that she wouldn't have to say it. But then, dragging it out only made it weirder. No one called their ex just to chat, not after ending things the way she had.

So she'd asked. It had felt rude even as the words left her mouth—asking you to do this for her, after everything. It wasn't fair.

But you'd said yes.

No hesitation, no bitterness. You didn't even sound mad. If anything, you'd sounded... calm. Maybe even relieved, though Tara didn't understand why. She'd thanked you quietly, trying not to choke on the lump in her throat as she ended the call.

If she'd dreaded the Christmas dinner before, it was nothing compared to now.

Tara sat on the edge of her bed, her room a chaotic mess of discarded outfits strewn across the floor. She'd started with something casual, but it felt too careless. Then something dressier, but that felt like trying too hard. Nothing seemed right.

Was she trying to impress you? The thought made her stomach twist, and she shook her head, trying to push it away. No, it wasn't that. Or maybe it was. Was she trying to look like she was doing fine? Like she wasn't crumbling inside every time you so much as glanced at her?

She caught herself wondering if you were supposed to match. The idea was stupid, ridiculous even—you'd never done that when you were together, so why would it matter now? And yet the thought lingered, a small, nagging question she couldn't ignore.

Tara sighed and stood, rummaging through the closet one last time before her fingers brushed something familiar. She pulled it out, the soft fabric bringing a fresh wave of guilt crashing over her.

It was one of your shirts. Dark green, fitted in a way that hugged her frame a little too tightly. You'd left it behind without a second thought, and she'd never returned it—never even offered to, though you hadn't asked for it back.

She hesitated, holding it up in front of her. It wasn't like she had many other choices; nothing else seemed to work. Maybe you wouldn't notice. Or maybe you would, and you just wouldn't say anything.

Pulling it over her head, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The shirt clung to her, accentuating her small frame. She frowned, brushing invisible creases off the fabric. It felt like a bad idea, but the clock was ticking, and she didn't have time to overthink it anymore.

With one final glance in the mirror, Tara grabbed her coat and headed out.

The drive to your apartment was supposed to be short, but Tara stretched it out, taking detours she didn't need to take. Her hands tightened on the wheel as she tried to calm the nerves twisting in her stomach. It didn't help.

She'd been the one to suggest picking you up. It made sense—if they thought you came together, no one would ask questions. And you'd agreed without hesitation, like you always did. That only made her feel worse.

You'd always been like that in the relationship, too. Agreeable. Too accommodating. Even when Tara didn't deserve it.

When she finally turned onto your street, she spotted you immediately. You were standing near the curb, hands buried deep in your coat pockets as snowflakes dusted your shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and you shifted on your feet, trying to keep warm.

She felt a pang of guilt. Had she taken too long?

As she pulled up, she tried to focus on the road ahead, but her eyes kept flicking back to you. You looked so... pretty. Gorgeous, even. The kind of gorgeous that made her chest ache.

But she wasn't allowed to think that anymore.

You climbed into the car, bringing a rush of cold air and the familiar scent of your perfume. It hit her all at once—clean, warm, unmistakably you.

You smiled at her, soft and unassuming, like this wasn't tearing her apart inside. "Hi."

Tara forced herself to smile back. "Hi." Her voice sounded steadier than she expected, but her hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"Did I keep you waiting?" she asked, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You shook your head lightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's not that cold."

Tara nodded, focusing on the road ahead. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy either. She glanced over at you more than she should've, her eyes darting between you and the road. It wasn't safe, but she couldn't help it.

She hadn't seen you since... that day. She didn't let herself think too much about it, but the absence had been loud, impossible to ignore. She wanted to see if you'd changed, if the time apart had shaped you into someone she wouldn't recognize.

But you hadn't, not really. Your makeup was the same, soft but striking, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. What caught her attention was your hair—curled, just like you always liked it. She couldn't forget that detail, not after how often you used to mention it.

Her chest tightened as she pulled into the driveway. The house was already lit up, warm lights spilling out through the windows. Tara shifted into park but didn't move to get out.

When you reached for the door handle, she found her voice. "Wait."

You paused, turning to look at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

Tara swallowed hard. "You don't have to do this. I mean, you don't have to do things you don't want to." Her voice wavered, betraying the guilt clawing at her insides. "I already feel bad enough for bringing you here."

You stared at her for a moment before your lips curved into another soft smile. "It's fine, Tara. Really."

There was something in your tone—something that felt like forgiveness, or maybe understanding. Whatever it was, it made her chest ache.

You opened the door and stepped out, and for a second, Tara just sat there, staring at the space you'd left behind. Then she followed, pulling her coat tighter around her as the cold air bit at her skin.

The crunch of snow beneath your boots filled the quiet, rhythmic and steady, but it only seemed to make Tara's heart race faster. Her breaths came in small, uneven clouds of white against the cold night air, and the house—Sam and Danny's house—felt simultaneously too close and too far.

Her hand flexed at her side, fingers twitching with the urge to grab onto something, anything, to steady herself. Instead, she settled for another glance at you as you walked beside her, bundled up tightly in your coat.

When you finally reached the porch, Tara stopped just short of the door, her eyes darting nervously to your hand before you raised it to knock. The sharp sound echoed, muffled slightly by the snow-covered world around you.

The footsteps from inside were quick and loud, growing nearer. Tara swore she could hear her own pulse in her ears, each beat screaming louder as the steps approached. And then, before she could even register what was happening, your hand slipped into hers.

The touch wasn't firm; it wasn't clingy or desperate. It was light—practiced in a way that made her chest twist painfully.

Of course, she told herself, it was just an act. You were just trying to make it look believable for everyone inside, the story you both had silently agreed to sell tonight. But as her fingers curled around yours in reflex, Tara couldn't help but wonder why she wanted to hold on longer than she should have.

It doesn't mean anything. The words echoed in her mind, a mantra she tried to cling to as tightly as she clung to the warmth of your hand.

The door swung open a moment later, and Chad's bright, too-loud voice broke through the tension like a hammer.

"Hey! There they are—the lovebirds!" He stepped into the doorway, his grin wide and genuine, his voice carrying enough energy to fill the whole porch. "We were starting to think you'd bailed on us."

Tara felt her throat tighten, her lips pressing into a small smile that she hoped looked convincing.

"Never," you said smoothly, the lightness in your voice so practiced that it almost made Tara's knees buckle. How were you doing this? Acting like it didn't tear you apart as much as it tore her apart?

Chad didn't wait for more of a greeting before pulling you both into one of his signature awkward hugs, his long arms wrapping around both you and Tara in a way that left Tara stiff and unprepared. "Good to see you two," he said as he let go, stepping back and ushering you inside with a sweeping gesture.

Behind him, Mindy and Anika appeared, both smiling warmly at the sight of you.

"About time," Mindy said with a teasing grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her eyes flicked between you and Tara, sparkling with mischief. "We were betting on how late you'd be. I said fifteen minutes. Anika said twenty."

"It's seventeen," Anika chimed in, nudging Mindy with her elbow. "So technically, we both win."

"Technically, we're both losers for betting on their arrival time," Mindy shot back, though her voice was light and playful. She gestured for you both to come inside, her grin only widening.

As soon as you stepped over the threshold, the warmth of the house hit Tara like a wave—cozy and overwhelming all at once. She hesitated for a moment, letting you move ahead to slip off your coat. When you let go of her hand to shrug the jacket off your shoulders, the cold absence of your touch hit her harder than it should have.

The living room was just as she remembered, glowing softly with Christmas lights that lined the walls and a tree in the corner. The scent of pine hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of something warm and spicy coming from the kitchen. It was homey, inviting—and everything Tara didn't want to face tonight.

"Finally!" Sam's voice rang out from the hallway, and Tara tensed instinctively, her head snapping toward her sister. Sam's sharp eyes scanned the both of you, her expression hovering somewhere between teasing and judgmental. "What'd you do, get lost on the way here?"

Danny appeared at Sam's side, his easygoing smile balancing out her sarcasm. "Better late than never," he added with a chuckle, offering you a nod in greeting.

Tara risked a glance at you, but your expression was unreadable—calm and steady, like a mask she couldn't see past. She hated it. She hated how distant you felt even when you were standing right there, hated how you could smile and joke when she felt like she could barely breathe.

"C'mon," Chad said suddenly, breaking the moment with a clap of his hands. "Food's getting cold, and I'm starving. Let's move this along."

The others began filing into the dining room, their chatter filling the space and making it seem smaller somehow. Tara lingered in the entryway for a moment longer, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart.

She glanced at you one last time, her stomach twisting as she watched you follow the others inside. The way you moved—the way you held yourself—felt so painfully familiar and achingly distant all at once.

Tara exhaled shakily, forcing herself to take a step forward. The night had only just begun.

The dining table was a mix of warmth and chatter, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and silverware scraping against plates. Laughter echoed from one side to the other as stories were exchanged, and it should have felt cozy, comforting even, but Tara could barely breathe. She sat beside you, stiff as a board, pretending to listen as the others talked, though most of her attention was on you.

You looked so composed, so poised, effortlessly keeping up with every question thrown your way.

"So," Chad started, leaning forward with a grin that was far too wide. "What's next for you guys? Got any big plans?"

Tara froze, her heart lurching. She parted her lips to speak, but you were faster, the practiced ease in your voice cutting through before she could even form a word.

"Yeah," you said, smiling as if it didn't weigh you down. "We've talked about traveling a lot. We both want to see more of the world."

Your voice carried such sincerity that Tara almost believed it. Almost. The smile you directed at her was soft, genuine, the same one you'd given her a hundred times before. It sent a pang through her chest, sharp and unforgiving.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod along like nothing was wrong. But everything about this was wrong.

"That's amazing," Anika chimed in from across the table, her tone warm and encouraging. "You two would have so much fun. Where would you go first?"

"I think Europe," you replied easily, the answer rolling off your tongue like you'd rehearsed it. "Tara's always wanted to visit Italy, so maybe we'd start there."

Tara's stomach churned. Italy had been one of her dreams for years, but now it was just another casualty of the life you two had planned together—a life she'd ripped apart.

The guilt was unbearable.

But what shattered her completely was when, as everyone nodded and hummed in agreement, you placed your hand on her thigh.

Tara's breath hitched, the weight of your touch sending a jolt through her. Her fingers twitched at her side, unsure of what to do. But then instinct took over—old habits she couldn't quite let go of. She reached for your hand, placing hers over yours like she always used to.

Her thumb brushed lightly against your skin, the motion automatic and gentle. She glanced at you, mustering the smallest smile she could manage. It wasn't like the bright, radiant smiles she used to give you, but it was something.

And you returned it, your eyes meeting hers briefly before you turned your attention back to the others.

Tara wanted to crawl out of her skin.

When the conversation shifted and someone else started talking, her gaze remained fixed on you. She watched as the mask slipped from your face, just for a second, but long enough for her to see the cracks beneath it.

She saw the way your fingers fidgeted nervously, tangling together and picking at the edges of your nails. She noticed how your plate remained mostly untouched, the food moved around but barely eaten. You barely spoke when the spotlight wasn't on you, your posture sinking into the chair as the conversation moved on without you.

And Tara knew.

She knew you didn't want to be here. She knew you didn't want to sit at this table and laugh along with everyone as though nothing had changed.

And worst of all, she knew why you were here—because she had asked.

The guilt burned hotter in her chest, clawing its way up her throat. She wanted to scream, to stand up and tell everyone what she had done. That she was the reason you were like this, the reason everything was falling apart. She wanted to tell them she'd broken up with you. That she'd hurt you in ways she didn't know how to fix.

But she didn't.

Because she was a coward.

Because she'd brought you here for selfish reasons—to avoid the questions, to keep up the facade for just a little while longer.

The conversation shifted as plates began to empty, and the atmosphere turned lighthearted, playful. Someone—probably Chad—brought up the future, and soon everyone was chiming in, laughing and teasing each other about who would hit the next major milestone first.

"So," Anika said, her tone mischievous as she leaned forward. "Who's gonna be the first to get married?"

Danny chuckled, placing his arm around Sam. "Probably us, right?" he said, glancing at her with a grin. "I mean..."

Sam rolled her eyes but didn't hide her smirk. "Don't start, Danny."

"And the first to have kids!" Mindy chimed in, winking. "Come on, you two are like parents already. It's only a matter of time."

Laughter rippled across the table as Sam shook her head, muttering something about how she wasn't even thirty yet. The conversation quickly turned to Chad, who became the next target of teasing.

"And Chad here," Mindy added, throwing an arm around his shoulders, "is definitely not in the running for any of this since he's still single."

"Hey!" Chad exclaimed, feigning offense. "I'm just waiting for the right person, okay? I'm picky."

"Oh, we know," Anika teased, and everyone laughed again.

Tara tried to keep up with the banter, forcing herself to smile and laugh along, but she couldn't relax. Not with you sitting beside her, radiating the kind of quiet composure that was both impressive and heartbreaking.

The teasing shifted again, this time focusing on marriage.

"What about you guys?" Chad suddenly asked, his gaze flicking to you and Tara.

Tara tensed, but you didn't miss a beat, smiling politely as you shrugged. "What about us?"

"Well, you guys are like... the couple," Chad said, gesturing between the two of you. "I mean, if anyone's gonna tie the knot soon, it's definitely you two."

Tara's heart dropped into her stomach, and her throat tightened painfully. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, but you didn't react, your expression as calm and effortless as ever.

She tried to speak, but her voice caught, and it wasn't until someone said your name that she realized they were still talking.

"Right?" Mindy added. "You two are like grossly in love all the time. It's a little nauseating, honestly."

"What?" Tara blurted, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She quickly cleared her throat, forcing a weak smile as she tried to reel it back. "I mean... what?"

Her attempt at sounding casual wasn't entirely convincing, but no one seemed to notice.

"Oh, come on," Mindy said with a grin, leaning back in her chair. "You guys look at each other like the rest of us don't even exist. It's adorable but also sickening. Like, give the rest of us a chance to shine, will you?"

Chad jumped in, nodding enthusiastically. "Seriously, you two are always all over each other. I'm honestly surprised you haven't eloped already."

"Or at least gotten matching tattoos," Anika added with a laugh.

Everyone was chiming in now, talking over each other, their voices blending into a blur of comments and laughter. Tara's ears rang, and she felt like the walls were closing in on her.

Her gaze flicked to you again, and you smiled—actually smiled—like none of this was bothering you. Like you weren't sitting here pretending that everything was fine when, in reality, it was far from it.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing herself to join in the laughter even though her chest felt like it was caving in. She clenched her hands under the table, nails digging into her palms as the guilt clawed its way back up her throat.

She wanted to scream. To tell them all to stop. To tell them the truth.

But she couldn't.

Because this was her fault. And she wasn't brave enough to face the fallout of her own mistakes.

The conversations blurred together as Tara sat at the table, her mind too preoccupied to follow along. She kept her eyes on her plate, pushing the food around with her fork, too aware of you sitting beside her, your presence filling the space between them like an unspoken weight.

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, catching the way you tilted your head as you listened to Mindy tell a story, your lips curling into a soft laugh at the punchline. It was the kind of laugh that reached your eyes, but Tara knew it was wrong. It was forced.

Nobody else seemed to notice.

That's what hurt the most.

She saw the way Chad playfully nudged you, Anika smiling at your responses like you hadn't just lost everything. Even Sam, as perceptive as she could be, remained blissfully ignorant. They all laughed, joked, teased as though nothing had changed.

But Tara knew better.

She saw the tiny details—the way your hands trembled slightly when you reached for your drink, the way you blinked a bit too much when someone mentioned something sentimental, like the future or happiness.

It was in the way you turned your head toward her just a little too late when someone directed a question at the both of you, as if you didn't quite trust yourself to look at her right away.

And it was tearing her apart.

Tara's guilt sat heavy in her chest, weighing down every breath she took. She had always prided herself on being observant, on knowing you better than anyone else. Now, that knowledge felt like a curse.

When you laughed at another one of Chad's jokes, she couldn't help but remember the way you used to laugh with her. Not like this—not forced, not hollow, but real, pure, alive. That laugh had been one of her favorite things about you.

She had stolen it from you.

Her hands tightened into fists under the table, nails digging into her palms, leaving little crescents behind. She wanted to leave. She wanted to stand up and pull you outside, away from all of this, away from the questions and the stares and the suffocating air.

But she couldn't.

Instead, she sat there, silent and still, drowning in the memories of what used to be.

Like the way you used to rest your head on her shoulder during long car rides, your hair tickling her cheek as you murmured about whatever came to mind. Or the way you used to hold her hand without thinking, your fingers curling perfectly around hers as though they were made to fit.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that.

The Tara from back then—the Tara who loved you so deeply it scared her—felt like a stranger now.

Her eyes burned as she blinked back tears, her gaze fixed on the flickering candle in the center of the table. She had no right to cry. No right to feel this way. Not when she had been the one to let you go.

I don't love you anymore.

The words echoed in her head, haunting and sharp. She had said them so easily, hadn't she? Like they didn't mean anything. Like they weren't the end of everything you'd built together.

But they had been.

Her throat tightened as someone across the table said her name, jolting her out of her thoughts. She blinked, her eyes darting to yours as you turned to her, a question lingering on your face. She hadn't heard what they'd asked, too lost in the storm of her own regret.

You answered for her, your voice calm and steady, effortlessly filling the gap she left behind.

And that was what killed her the most.

Because she realized you didn't need her anymore. Not the way you used to.

But God, how she still needed you.

The dinner was winding down, everyone still buzzing with conversation and laughter as plates were cleared and dishes were passed toward the kitchen.

You'd joined the shuffle at first, picking up your share and helping where you could. But after a few minutes, you paused, wiping your hands on a napkin.

"It's really hot in here," you said lightly, voice even as you glanced around the room. "I think I'm gonna step out for some air."

No one thought much of it—Danny nodded absentmindedly as he carried a stack of plates, and Chad cracked a joke about the crowd being the real cause of the heat.

But Tara noticed. She noticed how your smile didn't quite reach your eyes when you spoke, how your fingers lingered on the back of one of the chairs before you finally turned to leave.

Her chest tightened as she watched you step out, closing the door behind you. She told herself it wasn't a big deal, that you were probably just overwhelmed like anyone would be.

The house was crowded, the air thick with the scent of food, candles, and too many conversations happening at once. It made sense to need a moment.

But a part of her couldn't let it go. What if you weren't just cooling off? What if you'd decided you'd had enough? Tara knew it was selfish—knew it was her fault you were even here in the first place—but the idea of you leaving, of walking away from this final thread of connection, made her stomach twist.

After a few minutes of trying and failing to distract herself by helping Sam and Mindy dry dishes, she gave in. She grabbed her coat from the back of a chair but didn't bother to put it on as she slipped outside, the cold hitting her immediately. Her breath puffed out in soft clouds as she scanned the porch.

You were there.

Leaning against the railing, your arms braced on the snow-dusted wood like the cold didn't bother you. Tara's steps were quiet as she approached, but the faint creak of the boards and the crunch of snow beneath her shoes announced her presence. You didn't turn, though. She didn't expect you to.

It wasn't until she was standing beside you that she noticed the cigarette. The faint orange glow lit up your fingers as you raised it to your lips, the smoke curling up into the night air.

She blinked, thrown off. You? Smoking?

The memory of countless conversations came rushing back. You had hated the smell of cigarettes when you first met. You'd begged her not to pick up the habit, your voice firm but your eyes soft as you reminded her how much it had bothered you growing up. You'd even tried to get Sam to quit once, though that hadn't gone anywhere.

"I didn't know you smoked," Tara said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

You didn't flinch, didn't even seem surprised. Maybe you'd heard her coming.

"Me either," you replied simply, taking a slow drag. You exhaled, the smoke mingling with the cold air as you added, "I took one from Sam's pack. Think she'll notice?"

Tara's stomach churned at the casualness of your words. She wanted to ask why. Wanted to tell you that this wasn't you, that you didn't have to do this—especially not because of her. But instead, she forced a small laugh, her breath shaky as she said, "Probably. She counts those like they're her kids."

You huffed a laugh at that, the sound dry but genuine.

Tara shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore the way her fingers itched to reach for yours.

She told herself it wasn't her job to worry about you anymore. She'd forfeited that right when she'd said the things she'd said, done the things she'd done.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the knot in her chest didn't go away.

The porch light cast a dim, uneven glow, its bulb faintly flickering, like it was moments away from giving out completely. Tara figured Sam had been telling Danny to change it for months now, but of course, nothing ever got done until it absolutely needed to.

But under that weak light, you looked radiant. Your features softened against the backdrop of snow, the glow highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and catching in your eyes whenever you glanced at the cigarette in your hand. The cold brought a flush to your cheeks, and a stray curl brushed against your temple, no doubt loosened from the wind or your absentminded movements.

It wasn't just how beautiful you were in that moment—it was the way you looked exactly as you had two years ago. The same girl Tara had fallen in love with. The girl she couldn't get enough of, who consumed her every thought and who made her believe in a love so fierce it terrified her.

And yet, you were also the girl she said she didn't love anymore.

She swallowed thickly, her chest aching as the memories hit her all at once. She thought about how many nights she'd spent staring at you across a table just like this, thinking about how lucky she was. How lucky she had been. And now? Now she'd forced you here, to this Christmas dinner, just because she couldn't bring herself to tell the people closest to her the truth.

The truth that she'd broken you.

You were facing away, your gaze somewhere out in the snowy darkness, but before she could stop herself, the words slipped out, quiet and unbidden.

"You look really pretty."

Your head turned toward her slowly, the cigarette still balanced loosely between your fingers. The porch light illuminated your face, and it was only then she saw the sadness in your eyes. It wasn't anger, frustration, or bitterness. It was a quiet, aching sorrow that somehow felt worse than anything else.

"Please don't say that," you said softly.

Your voice was steady, but the words cut through her like a blade. She didn't need you to explain; she knew exactly what you meant.

Why would she say that? Why would she tell you how beautiful you were when she'd been the one to shatter everything between you?

When she'd been the one to tell you she didn't love you anymore? For all she knew, you still loved her. Maybe you were still clinging to what she'd so carelessly cast aside.

Her throat tightened as she looked at you, helpless to say anything else. She wanted to take it back, to swallow the words and pretend they hadn't been spoken. But it was too late. She'd opened her mouth and let herself slip, and now the weight of her own guilt was unbearable.

Because as much as she told herself she'd ended things to spare you—to spare herself—she couldn't ignore the truth.

She still thought you were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And she hated herself for it.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. Tara felt it settle deep in her chest, wrapping itself around her ribs until she could hardly breathe. She'd made a mistake—again. Speaking without thinking. Letting the guilt spill out in ways that only made things worse.

But it wasn't just the guilt. It was the shame.

She hadn't even apologized. Not properly. Not for how she ended things, not for the way she left you to pick up the pieces while she avoided facing the truth of what she'd done. She had no excuse for it—only cowardice.

She couldn't stop herself this time. The words clawed their way up her throat, and her voice came out trembling, low and unsteady.

"I just..." she started, but her breath hitched. Her vision blurred, and she blinked quickly, trying to keep herself together. "I'm really sorry. About how things ended between us."

You didn't move, your expression unreadable as you stared at the snow-covered street ahead. Tara's chest felt like it was caving in.

"I just wanted you to know that," she added, her voice even quieter now. She bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling, her hands clenched tightly at her sides to keep them from shaking.

She didn't know what else to say, how to put into words the regret that was swallowing her whole. Her heart ached with the weight of everything she couldn't undo, everything she couldn't take back.

All she could do was stand there, her breaths shallow, waiting for whatever you would say in return.

The air felt colder now, biting at Tara's skin, but she barely noticed. She was too caught up in the silence that followed her apology, every second stretching unbearably long. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and for a moment, she thought you wouldn't say anything at all.

But then you spoke, softly, almost as if the words didn't carry much weight to you anymore.

"I know."

Tara blinked, stunned by the simplicity of your response. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—anger, maybe. Hurt. Anything but this strange, calm acceptance.

You took another drag of your cigarette, exhaling smoke into the cold night air before adding, "I am too."

The words hit her harder than she thought they would. They felt surreal, bizarre even. As if this was the first time you'd been honest about how you felt since the breakup, but also the first time Tara realized that honesty wasn't going to fix anything.

Her throat tightened, and she didn't know what to say. What could she say to that? Apologies felt hollow now, and explanations were meaningless. She had already said everything she could.

All she could do was stand there, her gaze fixed on you as you leaned against the railing. The faint glow of the porch light cast soft shadows over your face, and even now, even in this moment, Tara thought you looked beautiful.

And just as beautiful as you were, the truth of it all settled painfully in Tara's chest: you were done being hers. And there wasn't anything she could do to change that.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy, like neither of you knew how to move forward or retreat. Tara's throat felt tight, her apology still hanging in the air. She wanted to say more, but her courage faltered. You stood there quietly, flicking the cigarette's ash into the snow, your expression unreadable now.

Before she could find the words to say anything else, the porch door creaked open behind her.

"Come on, lovebirds," Anika's teasing voice cut through the moment, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Time for gift-giving before Chad opens all his early."

Tara stiffened, heat rising in her cheeks as Anika's words sank in. She forced herself to glance at you, but you didn't even flinch. Instead, you gave Anika the same soft, effortless smile you'd been wearing all night—the one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I'll be right in," you said lightly, flicking the last of the cigarette into the snow before turning back to the railing.

Anika lingered for a moment, her eyes flicking between the two of you like she was waiting for something more. But when neither of you moved, she gave a quick shrug and disappeared back inside, the sound of her laughter fading into the warmth of the house.

Tara stayed frozen in place, staring at the closed door, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"You should go," you murmured, not looking at her. "They'll start asking questions if you don't."

She hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She wanted to say something, to break through the mask you were wearing, but she couldn't find the words. And maybe that was the point—there was nothing left to say, nothing that would make this easier or less painful.

With a quiet nod, she turned and walked back to the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. As the door shut behind her, the noise of the dinner enveloped her, but her mind stayed outside, on the porch, with you.

Inside, the world felt wrong. Too loud, too warm, too suffocating. Sam called her over, Danny was laughing with Chad, and Anika was already pulling Mindy into the gift pile, but all Tara could focus on was the pit in her stomach and the way her chest ached.

Her legs moved on autopilot, carrying her back to the living room, but her mind kept circling the same thought: she should've stayed. She should've stayed with you on the porch and said everything she couldn't say before. She should've explained why she ended things, even if she didn't know how to make it make sense to herself.

Because you deserved more than this. More than her selfish need to keep up appearances. More than her cowardice disguised as convenience.

She sat down on the couch, forcing a smile when Chad joked about something she didn't catch. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, like her sister could sense the storm raging inside her, but for once, Sam didn't press. The guilt sat like a weight in Tara's chest, heavier now than ever, pressing down on her ribs until it hurt to breathe.

She thought of the way you looked under the dim porch light, the snow falling softly around you, your features so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. You were the girl she fell in love with two years ago, the girl she shared everything with, the girl she said she didn't love anymore.

But that was a lie. A lie she told herself so many times she almost believed it.

She didn't know if she loved you the same way now, but she knew one thing with painful certainty—she didn't stop. And she hated herself for letting her fears, her insecurities, and her flaws destroy what you had.

As the gift-giving began and the room filled with laughter and excitement, Tara's smile stayed fixed in place.

But her heart stayed on that porch.

[shoresoftheshadowlands]

I've been having this thing recently where I get myself all good to go, ready to get into working on my novel / world encyclopedia stuff, or any writing at all, I will almost immediately get sleepy. Like deadass knocks me out, which is weird because I am PROLIFIC with writing. I take breaks, set smaller section writing goals (Instead of the big grand final word count, aiming for smaller sections with smaller numbers)

But this strange, sudden blackout tiredness that hits me recently is awful, it isn't the same as writers block, that presents itself as avoidance and needing to look at anything else. This feels more like 'DON'T WANNA! GOTTA SLEEP! TAKE NAP HERE!' rather than 'don't wanna write' its more like 'I dun wanna, I dun wanna' 'about what?' I DUN WANNA!'

I probably need ASD/ADHD meds or something. Probably would have been if my mother hadn't torn up my prescription when I was like five but that's a can of worms better left buried.

(We all casually pretend I was diagnosed in high school at 17 but the truth is we knew before I was even in grade school that something wasn't quite 'right', she got mad about him diagnosing me ADD (Which I turned out to not have) because it was the 'Every kid diagnosis so you don't have to look further'.

And then when I was offered a school that would have been more my pace for kids like me, she demanded I main stream (demanded of the school, not me, who were encouraging me to be in classes for neurodivergent kids) and this resulted in painful years and years of struggle to keep up.

Would I be a different person with totally different...everything now, if I had gone to the other school? Probably. I wouldn't have discovered digital art was even a thing most likely, but that was in second year high school. I had to suffer through painful homework sessions for years unmedicated. UGH. /end tangent

You ever have that "hungry but nauseous" feeling about activities? Like you really really want to do something and you've got plenty of fun hobbies and things you could pick from but all of the options turn your stomach so you're just laying there bored and angry about it.

[soft-beams]

i had a vision of pit fighter vi going to a bar and hooking up with the hot bartenders after she lost one of her matches 🙈

omg yes, absolutely.

this may have gone in a slightly different direction, oops 🫢

i feel like vi would turn to two things when she loses a match: alcohol and sex. usually at the same time. so she has her routine set, and loris lets her do what she needs to do to unwind.

she often tries to look for women who look like caitlyn. if they have the bluish-black hair or blue eyes, then vi's instantly taking them back to her small, unkempt apartment. if they have an accent too? even better because it allows vi to fully immerse herself in the fantasy she plays. where it's caitlyn who's with her and not some stranger she's going to kick out in the morning.

but there's something different this night; it doesn't start different, though. vi drowns her wounded pride and shame in bottles after bottles of booze. loris is a forever presence beside her, not getting in her way but ensuring she doesn't hurt herself too much. she's already pent-up, rearing to find herself a victim to sink her teeth into tonight when she sees you.

you're new at the bar, just started your shift, and you're mixing drinks like a pro. your smile is pretty; wide and shining as you speak with patrons and roll your eyes at sleazy flirting attempts. you seem too radiant for this place, sticking out like a sore thumb and that intrigues vi through her drunken haze. she's curious and, frankly, horny so she waves you over.

"what can i getcha?" you ask once you've made it to her side of the bar. your smile is even prettier up close, highlighting your already stunning features. vi feels herself go tongue-tied, but she recovers and aims what she knows a charmingly sloppy grin your way.

"would it be weird if i said you?" vi asks, peering up through her lashes in an attempt to be coy. "or am i overshooting here?"

"definitely overshooting," you snort, but you don't walk away. instead, you refill her drink and add, "but i wouldn't want to hit a drunk loser when she's already down."

usually, something like that would strike a nerve. and while it still does, vi doesn't feel as offended by those words as she should be. maybe it's because you're pretty. but a pretty face's never stopped her from cussing someone out before.

"i don't need your pity," vi attempts to spit out, to sound mean and intimidating. but it falls flat; sounds soft and a little slurred. "so if that's all you're offering then fuck off."

vi doesn't want you to fuck off, though.

she wants you to stay, and it's like you sense that because you don't move. in fact, you're staring at her, amused with a raised brow, that radiance of yours blinding.

"okay," you say easily. "but then you can't tell me what you actually want me here for."

vi's eyes widen, a slight jolt of shock sobering her up a bit.

"...what?"

"i know you, violet." her name rolls of your tongue perfectly. she wants to hear you say her name again. "whenever you lose a match, you drown yourself in booze and find someone to fuck." you reach for a glass behind the bar and set it on the counter. then you pour yourself a drink, smooth and elegant. "and i can only imagine that you're so interested in me because you want to fuck me, correct?"

vi swallows, feeling a bit too hot in her jacket. she doesn't answer immediately and that has you tilting your head to the side, a sly smirk gracing your pretty lips.

"do you want to fuck me, violet?"

god, yes.

"i want to fuck you," vi rasps out, flushed and pulsing between her thighs.

"good girl," you purr before tossing your drink back, showcasing the tempting curve of your throat and vi curses a little too loudly.

fuck.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Miller's Christmas Tree Farm

Part three - Underneath the tree

Summary: With the big Christmas Dance coming up you have your hands full. But somehow you and Joel always end up in the same place and make the most of it 😉 Confessions are made and finally you get that happily ever after you always dreamed of.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: M

Wordcount: 4.7k

Warnings: no outbreak AU, major Hallmark movie vibes, fluff, a lot of flirting, kissing, Tommy and Ellie still being sneaky menaces, a steamy scene, no actual smut though, sorry guys, happy end

Co- written with @jennaispunk 💜

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist // Miller’s Christmas Tree Farm Masterlist

You woke up the next day feeling a little under the weather. Not full on sick but just…. Exhausted. With horror you realised it was way past time to bring Ellie to school, getting dizzy as you made your way towards her bedroom.

To your surprise she wasn’t there. You noted that her school bag that was usually in the hallway was gone too. Walking towards the door you noticed a pink post it hanging against it, reaching for it.

Took Ellie to school. Get some sleep and meet me in the barn when you’re up. Joel

A smile sneaked to your face as you took the note and walked back towards your bedroom. You searched through you medicine drawer, grabbing some Tylenol before you got back to bed, snuggling under your blanket, Joel's not still sticking to your hand as you caught yourself dreamily grinning at it. 

Groaning you closed your eyes, melting against the mattress. 

You really got it bad for the grumpy Miller brother. 

Taking another look at the clock you think another hour of sleep would be in your best interest. Even though part of you wanted nothing more than go and see Joel. 

You couldn't even remember the last time you felt like that about a man, or if you ever did before. You were falling for him, you were falling for him hard. 

And maybe, maybe he was falling for you too. 

Joel was in the middle of sanding, when he heard the barn door open. Looking over his shoulder he couldn’t and found himself didn’t want to fight the smile that sneaked to his lips when he saw you walk in. 

He had been surprised this morning when Ellie knocked on his door and asked him if he could drive her to school because you were still asleep and Ellie didn’t wanted to wake you up because you had been so busy these last weeks. 

So Joel took Ellie to school answering every single question she had on their way. Sarah had been the same way. Always asking the first thing that came to her mind. He found himself thinking about how much Ellie and Sarah would have loved each other if they would have gotten a chance to meet each other. 

Once he dropped her off and gotten back to the farm he wanted to invite you over for breakfast but when he knocked on your door there was no answer. So, very quietly, he let himself in, finding the apartment still sound asleep, much like you were as he risked a glance into your bedroom where you were still sleeping. Smiling to himself he grabbed the first piece of paper he could find to write you a note, pining it to your door.

He then spend the rest of the morning in the barn, working on the sleigh he had been building. He had been planing to gift it to Ellie for christmas, but after realising how busy you had been since you agreed to Tommys proposition of moving to the farm and bringing it back on track yo had been working nonstop.

You deserved a day off.

So, if you agreed, he’d take you and Ellie on a long walk around the property today and then make dinner after. 

„Whatcha doing?“ You asked and he smiled as he put the sanding paper down to turn around towards you. 

„I am making a sleigh for Ellie,“ he said and your eyes widened in surprise.

„Really?“ You breathed out. He nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy. 

„I wanted to give it to her as a Christmas present but I changed my mind today. I wanna give it to her today and take you both out on a walk around the farm. There’s a small hill not too far from here. You… You deserve a day off for how hard you have been working here.“

Instead of answering him you hugged him, inhaling his scent deeply, his arms closing around you to pull you even closer. 

"I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you've gone and what you’re still doing. Not just for the farm but…“ he stopped talking and you looked up at him with a warm smile.

„You're welcome,“ you whispered as he slowly bend down to kiss you softly. 

„Waaaahhh,“ Ellie cried out in delight as she slid down the hill, Joel behind her as you took photo after photo. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had heard her laugh like that. Hell, she even made snow angles with Joel earlier and it was the cutest thing you had ever seen, her cheeks rosy and eyes full of wonder. 

When they made it down the hill Ellie got off the sleigh and let herself fall into the snow on the ground, out of breath. You looked down at her in amusement. 

„I’ll just take a mini nap right here,“ she sighed, dramatically fluttering her eyes closed, giggling when Edward jumped on top of her, licking her cheek. 

Turning your head to look at Joel who got up from the sleigh with a groan you chuckled. 

„You should go now mom. Joel is a great…. Sleigh… Driver?“ Ellie said, now looking up at you. 

„Is he now?“ You asked and she nodded. 

„I need a break. You kids have fun,“ she nodded, before her eyes closed again. With a roll of your eyes you looked up at Joel who was grinning in amusement. 

„There’s hot cocoa in my bag. Prepare three cups for us while I take you mom for a ride?“ He said and Ellie sat herself up. 

„On it!“ She said with a nod, giggling when Edward dropped a stick in her lap. You already knew she would spend the whole time playing with Edward so you looked at Joel who was already looking at you and nodding his head towards the hill. 

You were itching to take his hand but didn’t know if he’d be comfortable. Joel and you had not talked about whatever it was that you were doing. Yeah you had kissed. A lot. And yeah, he wanted to take you out on a date. But were you together?

You decided to ask. 

„Joel?“

„Hmm?“ He looked at you, pulling the sleigh behind him as you walked up the hill. You could still hear Ellie laugh behind you and Edward bark at her. 

„What are we?“ You asked and he kept looking at you, cheeks rosy from the cold today, lips pursed. 

„We are…. Getting to know each other," he said and you frowned. 

"That's it?“ 

„Yeah,“ he smiled, and you realised that you made it to the top of the hill. He took your hand, helping your sit down on the sleigh before he sat down behind you, pulling you against his body, lips against you ear, his beard scratching over your skin as he got even closer. 

„I wanna get to know you. I wanna know what makes you feel good, and what kind of noises you make when I…." you felt his lips on your neck the next moment, slowly sucking on your pulse point and you whimpered. 

„I wanna get to know all of you. Cause what I already know? Makes me hope you wanna stick around to be mine some day,“ he said, not giving you a chance to react as he pushed forward and the sleigh began to move downhill.

After checking in with the catering vendors the next morning, with Joel making you a sandwich for breakfast, you took Ellie to a little shopping spree after school. You needed something to wear for the christmas dance because all you brought was jeans and sweaters when you moved. 

„You need a really pretty dress,“ Ellie said as you went into the third store. 

„Can I make you try on one too?“ You teased, already knowing the answer. 

„No thank you. You are the Disney princes, I am the funny side kick,“ she winked and you hugged her, ready to finally find something to dress that you both liked. 

Meanwhile Tommy Miller, on his mission to meddle in his brothers love life was in your bathroom with his toolbox, making sure that you would need the help of his big brother if you wanted to take a shower later today.

When you finally found the dress you texted the group chat you had made with Tommy and Joel asking if they wanted some Chinese take out and if so what. Tommy answered right away, telling you that he would spend the night at Maria’s while Joel only answered with a yes please. 

Waiting for his order you gave up when you made it to the restaurant and just ordered something for him you hoped he would like. 

When you made it back to the farm Ellie quickly made her way towards her room, wanting to finish her homework while you texted Joel that you brought the food and that he’d be invited over for dinner after you took a shower. 

Yet when you stood in your shower, nothing happened. There was no water coming out of the shower head. After two minutes of trying you gave up, getting into your robe. The water clearly worked as the sink had no issues. 

And while you could do some handiwork, everything related to the bathroom was out of your comfort zone. 

Thankfully Joel chose the moment to knock on your door so you got your slippers on and walked down the hall to open the door for him. 

„Great timing. I need you as my landlord,“ you said with a teasing smile while Joel looked at you, his eyes clearly wandering down your body before he looked back into your eyes. You felt yourself flush under his gaze and he cleared his throat. 

„Something happen?" he asked and you nodded. 

„Wanted to take a shower but there’s no water in there,“ you shrugged and he hummed. 

„Can I take a look?" He asked and you nodded. He smiled as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. You thought he would just walk straight to the bathroom but you were surprised when you felt his hand on your hip as he softly kissed your temple.

„Missed you today,“ he said and your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked up at him with a smile before he made his way towards the bathroom. 

While Joel went back to his place to get his tools, you checked in on Ellie who was already finished with her homework and now working on her sketch of Edward that she planned of gifting Joel. 

„Shower is not working so Joel is gonna take a look,“ you informed her and she nodded.

„I’ll call you for dinner when he’s finished?“ you asked and she nodded again, fully focused on the paper in front of her. With a small grin you closed the door behind you, walking towards the living room where you had put the takeout container. Searching through the food you took a spring roll, biting into it just when you heard the door open and Joel walk in. 

Following him towards the bathroom, you leaned with your shoulder the the doorway, watching him work. 

You never had this. 

When something in your apartment back in San Francisco broke, your husband called the building manager instead of fixing it himself. He said, it was because he paid for the service after all, but you knew that he just wasn’t able to do it himself. 

You heard Joel mutter under his breath before he shook his head. 

„It’s really nice to have a man around who knows what he’s doing,“ you said with a smile and he looked over his shoulder, giving you a wink. 

„Guess my husband only knew what he was doing when he was chasing after other women,“ you sighed and saw Joel stop. 

„I know he's dead, but he was an idiot,“ he said, grabbing a wrench and seconds later water was coming out of the shower head. 

„Tommy really needs to step up his meddling game, this is getting ridiculous,“ he said with a groan as he got up from his knees. 

„Tommy?“

„Yeah. He fucked with the water supply for the shower. Probably to get me over here tonight,“ he said with a sigh, setting his tools back into the box he brought. He washed his hands before he turned towards you. 

„Like I need a goddamn reason to see my girl,“ he grinned, both of his hands coming to rest on your hips and you took a step inside the bathroom, closing the door behind you. 

„Your girl, huh? I like the sound of that," you hummed, both of your hands coming to rest on his chest as you looked up at him. 

„Good,“ he said before he kissed you.

You were in the middle of finishing the last decorations in the space you had all set up for the christmas dance later that week when you saw Joel. 

He had been gone almost all day, picking up stuff for the big party and taking care of last minute errands and apparently, going to a barber. His hair was cut and his facial hair was trimmed too which made him look even more attractive than he already was. 

Fuck, he was hot. 

He must have caught you staring, raising his eyebrow in question at you while you just blinked out of your haze, feeling your cheeks getting warm. 

„Look at you brother! You look like you don’t come out of the woods anymore!“ You heard Tommy tease him and he rolled his eyes. 

„Still living in the fucking woods,“ he grumbled and you laughed. 

You waited until Tommy was gone to walk past him, your hand coming to rest on his chest as you smiled up at him. 

„You look good, Miller,“ you said with a wink, patting his chest before you walked off and towards your apartment.

Ellie was already at the Christmas party with Tommy while you put the finishing touches to your make up. The dress you bought was a dark green velvet dress, floor length with a slit on your side.

You felt incredibly sexy as you lined your lips with the red lipstick you had gotten from the store. 

You hoped that people would enjoy this party, maybe even donate some money. 

These last weeks had you falling in love with this place. The Farm quickly having become a home to you and Ellie. 

Which of course could also have to do with you falling for Joel Miller. 

Taking a deep breath, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror before you made your way towards the party, hoping everything would turn out perfect. 

You excuse yourself from a group of parents from Ellie’s school and made your way over to the bar for a drink. You had barely said two words to Joel all night, the guests had kept you busy chatting and dancing. It was nice having friends again, people to laugh and joke with, but your mind and your eyes kept wandering back to Joel. Maybe if you went over to talk with him you could get at least one dance out of him. 

Joel stood off to the side, observing instead of participating. He was friendly to anyone who stopped to talk, but he wasn’t working the room the way you did. He admired the effortless grace you had when dealing with people. He was getting better at it, but he’d never be as good as you. He knew how lucky he was to have you around, and not just for the farm. You had made him open his heart in a way he never thought he would again. 

And you looked so beautiful tonight, the dress hugging your every curve and Joel just wanted to go over and kiss you in front of every single person, so everyone knew you were his. 

Would you like that?

He shook his head, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes always on you, trying to decide how he could approach you best. 

Moving through a crowd a people, you make your way over to Joel. It seems like every time you try to spend a moment with him, someone is demanding attention from you or Joel. The universe seems to be playing a cruel trick on you, having him so close but so far away. 

Mrs. Donovan, the town librarian, stops you with a soft hand on your arm. She congratulates you on your success and wonders if you would be available in the summer to help organise some reading events for the children over their summer break from school. You tell her that you can talk about it more after the new year. The topic turns to her nephew who just moved back to town. You smile politely as she tells you how perfect he’d be for you, but you skilfully deflect her matchmaking, you have your sights set on one man and his name is Joel Miller. 

Your attention drifts to the dance floor and you see Tommy and Maria out there among the other dancers. They look so happy with their arms around each other as they sway to the music. Tommy leans in and whispers something in Maria’s ear and she playfully swats his shoulder and laughs. That’s what you want: to share secrets and inside jokes with someone as you hold each other close, and you want that someone to be Joel. 

A twinge of jealousy hits you as your eyes settle on Joel. He’s talking to a woman. You immediately recognise her as one of the single mom’s from Ellie’s school, one who’s constantly flirting with the Fiery red hair flips over over the woman’s shoulder as she throws her head back with the fake laugh some women do when they try too hard. Your fist clench at your sides as you watch the exchange. Joel doesn’t appear all that interested in her flirting, but that doesn’t seem to deter the woman at all. 

The slow song ends and the couples begin to clear the floor. You’ve missed your chance for that dance with Joel, at least for now. The departing couples obscure your view of Joel and you crane your neck to see what’s happening. The way clears just as the woman puts her hand on Joel’s forearm and your pulse hammers in your ears. You’re going to put a stop to this right now, you don’t care how silly you look. 

A little hand grabs yours before you get two steps toward Joel. You look down at Ellie smiling brightly. 

“Mom, come dance with me! It’s my favourite song!!”

She tugs you toward the dance floor as you shoot a glance in Joel’s direction. You open your mouth to protest but Ellie’s pleading eyes make you give in. Joel will have to wait. 

Joel rests his forearms on the fence and looks out over the farm. The steam of his breath rose like a smokestack toward the night sky before disappearing into the black. He was damn proud of how this place had flourished, and he had you to thank for it. You had breathed life back into this place, and into him too. 

“Trying to hide from me, Miller?” 

You saw him seek out the door and knew it was the perfect opportunity to steal a few minutes with him without interruption. The warmth of his arm seeps through your coat as you lean against the railing next to him. 

He chuckles softly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that way that makes your knees weak. 

“Nah, just needed a break from all the noise.���

You hum softly. Joel’s tolerance for people was getting better but you knew he had his limits. The full moon in the night sky made the snow on the ground almost sparkle. The muffled sounds of music trickle out from behind the closed barn doors. It’s not quite loud enough to make out the lyrics, but you can hear the beat and its slow dancing music. This is perfect. You nudge Joel with your shoulder and smirk. 

“I was hoping I’d get one dance with you before the night is over.”

Joel swallows hard. Holding you close was going to make him think about things he shouldn’t be thinking about right now. Besides, he hasn’t slow danced with anyone in a very long time, he’s not even sure he remembers how. 

“Sorry, darlin’, I’m not much of a dancer…” he mumbles. “I’m probably terrible at it.”

Your brow furrows, not believing that for one second. You know he has rhythm, he plays the guitar. 

“Prove it.”

His eyes go wide, momentarily stunned at words.

“E-Excuse me?” he stammers. 

You eyes gleam with mischief as you smirk at him. Maybe he was a terrible dancer but you were willing to take that chance. 

“I said, Prove. It.” You repeated, emphasizing the ‘p’ and the ‘t’. “I wanna see what a terrible dancer you are, Joel Miller.”

He huffed a laugh and narrowed his eyes. 

“You asked for it.” he grumbled. “No cryin’ when I step all over your pretty shoes.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. The second you started swaying to the beat, the rest of the world disappeared; all that mattered was this moment. His large hands splayed across your back, one thumb gently rubbing up and down against the small of your back. The body heat is just radiating off him and you wonder how he stays so warm all of the time. You melt into his arms and rest your head on his shoulder. You find yourself envisioning nights like this in front of the fireplace, slow dancing to the music in your head after Ellie is fast asleep. You close your eyes to clear those thoughts, you’re getting ahead of yourself now; you need to just relax and enjoy the moment for what it is. 

Something cold and wet tickles your cheek and you open your eyes to see tiny flakes falling from the sky. You giggle softly as a snowflake lands on your nose. This couldn’t be more perfect. Joel’s hands start to drift lower as you raise you head to look at him. The snow is beginning to collect in his hair and the sight takes your breath away. 

“I never took you for a liar, Joel Miller.” you teased. 

“A liar?”

His left brow arches and he looks at you, blinking a few times. 

“Mmm hmm. You said you were a terrible dancer and your not.”

A throaty chuckle reaches your ears and he tugs you even closer. 

“I didn’t lie, darlin’” he whispered softly. “I said I’d ‘probably’ be terrible at it. It’s been a hell of a long time since I danced with someone, especially someone as beautiful as you.”

Your cheeks flush, and not just from the chill in the air. He had you on that technicality. This man made you feel like a teenage girl again and a nervous laugh trickles from your lips. 

“I’m glad I was the one who made you dance again.”

“Me too.”

A calloused thumb brushed a flake from your cheeks and his lips slowly descended on yours. You didn’t expect him to kiss you out in the open like this and you softly gasp. Joel takes advantage of your parted lips and deepens the kiss, his soft tongue slipping gently into your mouth. The kiss wasn’t rushed or passionate; it was slow and  honest, like it was meant to happen at this exact moment. 

You smile when you pull away. This was like a scene from one of those cheesy Hallmark movies, and you loved every minute of it. 

The barn door creaks open and the two of you separate, putting enough distance between you so no one would ask any questions. Tommy’s head peaks around and looks at the both of you for a moment. 

“Hey, I think the little kiddo is getting tuckered out.”

You sigh softly. You completely forgot about the time. Ellie had to be exhausted from all the dancing and playing with her friends. A mother’s job is never done. This moment would have to be on hold for the time being. 

“I’ll be right in.” you tell Tommy. 

You back even further away from Joel and turn to head back into the barn. You shoot him an apologetic glance over your shoulder as you open the barn door and slip inside. 

You were about to walk back towards the party when you noticed Joel coming towards you. He took your hand and pulled you with him with a whispered come with me and you did. 

He took you back to his house, pushing you against the closed door and kissed you. With a gasp your lips parted for him, your hands flying up into his hair, Joel deepening the kiss. 

"I want you," he mumbled, kissing down your jaw. 

"I want you so much, please let me make you feel good," he almost begged and you nodded. 

„Please, Joel," you whispered and he kissed you again, hands pushing up the skirt of your dress, wrapping one of your legs behind him and oh, you could feel him already hard against your thigh. 

You let your head fall against the door as he kissed down your neck, your hands in his hair. You could feel one of his hands slowly running up your thigh and you were sure you stopped breathing the moment the back of his fingers brushed over your panties. 

He hummed. 

„Need you in my bed. Knees are gonna be fucked if I’ll do what I wanna do right now,“ he mumbled against your skin and you chuckled. 

„Take me to bed then,“ you whispered.

Christmas morning was spend in the Miller’s house. Tommy had invited Maria and you and Ellie hadn’t even been asked, more like expected there. Joel had made pancakes while Ellie had unwrapped her presents. 

It was a great day where you felt like part of a family. 

Something you haven’t had in a long time. 

It was also spend using every moment nobody was watching or in another room making out with Joel. You felt like a teenager, trying to hide from the parents and you loved it. 

Joel and you had decided to not tell everyone right away. Not because he didn’t want to tell anyone, but more because of what his brother and you daughter would come up with to get the two of you together. 

And oh did they try. 

Your car broke down on the street leading to the farm, but too far out to walk back. When of course Joel got there to check her car, he found that someone had messed with the battery. 

The things Joel did to you on the backseat of his truck while you waited for the battery to charge would leave you daydreaming for days. 

It was on the same day that the heat at the apartment went out and Ellie and you had to have a sleepover at the main house with Tommy, of course, spending the night at Maria’s, leaving you and Joel to spend the night alone in his bed once Ellie was asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, when the house was still asleep to Joel going down on you, you found yourself hoping that this could be how the future looked like. 

The meddling continued and Joel and you almost looked forward to having some time alone to yourselves every single day, while the people who tried to set you up were none the wiser. 

It was on New Years Eve, the countdown shouted down from the people both Joel and you loved most that he held you and kissed you in front of them, wishing you a Happy New Year while the people around you cheered loudly. Most of them surprised, but all of them happy that maybe, just maybe you both found your happily ever after. 

[leighsartworks216]

The Calm After The Storm

Sylus x gn!Reader

I know it isn't Christmas anymore but the vibes persist in my notes app

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, Christmas, alcohol, drinking, kissing, cuddling, some family drama

Word Count: 834

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AO3

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You scrub a hand down your face, as if it could wipe away all the stress and overwhelm from the last few days. Booking flights, packing bags, wrapping gifts, dealing with your parents' nagging and your extended family's... whole deal. You can't wait to go back home.

Sylus sighs as he settles down beside you. His arm immediately wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side where you belong.

He's been your rock through all of this. When you start to lose your head to the holiday season, he's there to reel you back in. It was a real catch 22, though. He could be there to block your family's questions and interrogations, but that only brought more questions to the surface.

How did you two meet? How long have you been together? When is he going to propose? Will we finally have some grandkids? Why isn't he with his family? How big is he? (Asked by your great grandmother, utterly shamelessly.) And on, and on, and on.

For all the headache it brought you, he didn't seem too phased by the excitement. With all the grace of a businessman, he deflects, redirects, and obfuscates just enough to satisfy their questions without giving them too much of a rope to tug on.

Now that you've finally got a moment to yourself - all your relatives gone, your parents off to bed - all you want to do is sit on the couch and come down from it all.

Sylus is quiet. You know it's for your sake, to give you all the (metaphorical) space you need. All the power is in your hands to start a conversation. All he does is hold you close, rub circles into your arm, and offer you the wine glass in his other hand.

You grin wryly as you accept it. It's fruity, sweet - definitely not to his tastes. "Is this the one my nana got you?"

"Mhm," he hums. "It's a nice gesture."

You chuckle. "She had no idea what to get you. I mentioned that you like to drink, but she's... Well, she tends to gift other people things she likes."

You settle deeper against him, cradling the glass to yourself as you lean your head against his shoulder. He presses a tender kiss to your head.

"Is it always that chaotic?"

"No." You tilt your head up to look at him. "It's usually a lot worse."

He chuckles lowly. "I'm glad they were on their best behavior for me, then." He brushes his nose against yours, drawing out the peace of the moment just a while longer. He's had to severely cut back on how affectionate he gets to be with you to avoid encouraging even more marriage and children questions; he really wants to savor this for as long as possible.

The lights of the Christmas tree in the living room dance across the planes of his face. Every now and then, the red catches on his iris. Or the gold does, and gives him a draconic look. He's beautiful. Ethereal. Your cousin took one look at him, at his arm lazily wrapped around your waist, and gaped in awe at you. The only reason she couldn't get a chance to get Sylus alone and try to steal him is because he was too insistent on staying by your side through it all, whispering teasing remarks in your ear and making sure you weren't about to have a panic attack.

It felt really good being able to put her in her place at dinner, when she purposefully vied for the seat beside Sylus's. He'd ignored her the whole time, save for a politely dismissive phrase or two. After she stole your boyfriend from you in 9th grade pulling the same stunts that she tried tonight, you had no sympathy for the teary-eyed pout she pulled on her way out the door.

You lean up that last little bit. He ducks his head down to ease the strain on your neck, meeting you in a honeyed kiss. Sweet, warm and unhurried. You taste like the wine, hints of the bitter alcoholic sting softened by the fruity sweetness clinging to your lips. This may be his new favorite wine, if only for the way it tastes on you.

You pull away slowly. He leaves a few chaste kisses on your lips, chasing after the lingering sweetness, before finally humming his satisfaction. As soon as you both get home, he's going to make up for all the lost time. For now, he tucks your head under his chin, holds you in front of the tree, and basks in his first Christmas spent with you.

"Merry Christmas, Sy."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart." He can't wait to celebrate with you again next year, crazy family and all.

You take a slow sip of the wine, basking in the silence for all of one minute. “Sy?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re taking the jet back home. I can’t be sat sandwiched between two screaming babies again.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[heich0e]

liv, please feed us more the the osamu finding out his fav nsfw audio creator standing and ordering on his shop..

osamu's not sure if his prayers have been answered or ignored when you show up at onigiri miya a second time.

in defense of whatever cosmic power is responsible for responding to prayers, he did send pretty mixed messages when he put that energy out into the universe. but when the bell at onigiri miya chimes to signal your arrival a few days (three, to be specific, not that he's been counting) after your initial appearance, osamu is equal parts delighted and horrified to see your face again.

his cock, it cannot be understated, is unequivocally thrilled.

"hi," you say, approaching the counter once it's your turn to order.

"good afternoon," osamu's shocked he manages to get out a greeting in reply to your own, his tone surprisingly even given the typhoon presently raging underneath his ribs. your lashes flutter prettily as you read the menu overhead, and osamu has to forcibly tear his eyes away from you lest he come across as a total fucking weirdo.

"could i please get, ah—" you hesitate as you consider the menu, but the way you draw out that little noise at the end of your sentence almost makes osamu keel over in front of you, his staff, every customer in the place, and whatever god sent you back to his restaurant.

he grips the front of his apron with both his fists, hoping that you can't tell how hard he's holding back a shudder from the mere sound of your voice.

"i'll have one grilled salmon and one pickled plum, please."

"i'll throw one of today's special in fer ya too, on the house."

osamu has no idea who's taken the wheel inside his brain to steer him through this conversation, because he hardly realizes he's speaking at all until his sentence is already concluded, but he's endlessly appreciative of it.

"oh—" you do that thing again. that awful, incredible thing where your voice gets all breathy and osamu's cock throbs. "that's so nice of you, thanks so much."

with every single word you speak, osamu is more certain that he wasn't wrong the first day he saw you. there's no doubt in his mind that this is the same voice that he's been cumming to on a damn near daily basis for nearly three years. his entire face feels like it's on fire when he hands you your order, and the smile on your face practically cleaves him in two.

he's grateful you're taking your order to-go today, because you've only barely made it out through the door before osamu is squatting down behind the counter with his head in his hands.

fuck. when was the last time he felt like this? has he ever gone this unbelievably stupid over a girl?

"hey boss, we're almost out of—oh man, you good?"

osamu's employee, ryo, pokes his head out from the kitchen and is shocked to find the restauranteur doubled over behind the counter.

osamu says nothing, but waves dismissively in an attempt to reassure him. clearly whatever spirit had guided him through taking your order had abandoned him now that you're gone.

"you look like... really awful."

osamu looks up at his employee with a grim expression.

"'m good."

"you sure? your whole face is like... purple."

"ryo, get back in the fuckin' kitchen or i'm makin' ya deice the walk-in after close."

"jeez!" ryo throws his hands up in defense, quickly skittering back behind the curtain with a laugh. "i'm just looking out for your health, boss!"

osamu sighs, a resting a hand over his chest where his heart is still racing underneath.

maybe he needs it.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Down Bad 💜 PJM (Part 2)

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

PAIRING: Vampire!Jimin x human(f)reader

SUMMARY:��You find the cure to your clumsiness in becoming Jimin’s dance partner. But twirling in his arms risks more than just your heart, especially after he bites you.

WORD COUNT: 12.8 k (Total: 31.5 k)

GENRE:  Soulmates AU, angst, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: typical vampire-related warnings (blood, biting, scents, feral moments), arguing, fighting, graphic depictions of cuts, bites, and wounds (including blood), angst, multiple smut scenes (unprotected sex), including praise kink, oral (f rec), penetrative sex, pleading, bit of a dom!Jimin, handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms

A.N. Here we have it, my Christmas gift this year. For some reason, I've been... unexpectedly insecure about my writing, so this story was somewhat... more difficult to perfect than usual. I'd like to thank @downbad4yoongi, @pars-ley, @colormepurplex2 and @hisunshiine for working through it with me and helping me reach this final version - by far the most fleshed-out and intriguing, even if it became huge. Also thank you to @itaeewon for the beautiful banner! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash!

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

>Click here for Part 1<

You faced yourself in the mirror, smoothing the dress you had just put on down your stomach. The black fabric was silky, shining with your every move, and you really liked it. You had picked it for that very motive, wanting to look your best when you trained the choreography with Jimin. And it had worked; you still remembered the way he twirled you and then pulled you close to whisper into your ear how beautiful you looked.

You blinked your tears away with a deep breath and clenched your teeth. At the time, you believed he loved you in his way. He didn't have to say it; you thought those moments showed it, and it was enough.

Perhaps you were wrong. Two days later, he had yet to pick up your calls, and he had not shown up for your movie night the night before. You hadn’t heard from him since that night, and while it hurt, you could admit you also needed to think about things.

You wondered how you never noticed something could be different about him, but you still held that you couldn’t have guessed it. Vampires were things of fantasy literature. Even if you had never seen him under direct sunlight, even if he had never gone out with you during the day, or eaten any meals with you… You just weren’t counting or paying attention. It didn’t really matter. You assumed he had his normal life and ate when he wasn’t with you.

You also never felt in danger. In fact, you felt safe with him, and thinking how many times you had all but begged him to bite you and nip your skin, you wondered if it was related to his nature. Could it be that his nature made you want those things? You couldn’t remember ever being so keen on wanting those things with previous partners, but that should be normal — you weren’t the same person, and the relationships were different. Still, while a part of you thought that those desires were natural for you and for people in general, another part couldn’t help wondering if anything you felt was because of what he was.

In movies, vampires could glamour people or manipulate them. What if that had been the case?

You chuckled while you put on your high heels — as if you were worth charming. And you supposed that was one of the biggest issues you couldn’t wrap your head around: just why exactly had Jimin looked at you?

You had naturally fallen in love with him over the months: he was handsome and sexy, and a bit of a tease, not to mention a wonderful dancer that made you believe in yourself. He took you out stargazing and watched old black-and-white movies in shady theaters with you, and you felt privy to aspects of him that no one else knew. But you? Besides keeping him on his toes with your clumsiness, what did you give him? He could have anyone, and if he was immortal or something like that, then you couldn’t think of a reason he’d waste his breath on you.

Hence, why you didn’t understand him at all; he said you were special and that you weren’t just anyone he wanted to mess around with, but he had gotten involved with you. He’d come every night through that same door you were now stepping out of to come to you. He walked that same path back and forth from the gym, and nothing forced him to do that. He never even fed on you before and was clear that he didn’t want your blood, so what was it?

A part of you screamed that he loved you in his own way, and that it was why, but you didn’t want to believe it. How could he love you if he had lied to you for so long? If he didn’t trust you? If he ran away as soon as his secret was out instead of explaining things to you and staying by your side? If his problem was your safety, why not tell you how to protect yourself? You didn’t even know vampires existed, same as anyone else. Why did he want to protect you from everyone and everything? As far as you were concerned, you would have lived in blissful ignorance your whole life if he never bit you.

He likely planned on using you for whatever reason and then leaving you behind. Thinking about that made you angry because while you were stuck doing the quick walk in the snow to the gym to attend the dance class, wondering about his reasoning, the only conclusion you knew for certain was that you loved him.

Stupidly, unwisely, and angrily, you loved a man— a vampire who had lied to you and showed you so very little of himself that you could logically tell you were damn stupid to be so head over heels about him.

You tapped your shoes on the gym’s welcome mat with a deep breath, letting the warmth inside the place reach you a little bit. You were not at fault for your feelings, and being naive could be a fault, but you didn’t hurt anybody. He did you dirty; it was unfair to be angry at yourself for it.

Hoseok wasn’t at the desk, but you didn’t wait; you knew where your class was. As you made your way calmly, you decided you’d put yourself first. You started your journey in dancing not for Jimin, but for yourself. You were proud of how far you had come, and that was enough. You were there more for the opportunity to speak with him rather than dancing, and you knew you couldn’t pretend everything was alright. Your eyes fell on the door with your heart racing in your chest, and you made a decision as you drew nearer and nearer — you could walk away. If that was the best option, you would do it for you.

When you pushed the door open, you hesitated. There was a tall man you didn’t know near the sound system, and beside him was Jimin. They were talking quietly, and when Jimin’s eyes landed on you, you jolted to a walk again. You closed the door behind you with your stomach twisting so hard that with every step you measured if you’d have to abort and run away to puke. At least until suddenly you were right before the two men with an agonizing heart behind your ribs.

“Here she is, right on time,” Jimin started casually, and you just looked at him blankly. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear a thing because he was addressing the guy as though everything was… fine. You blinked with the tears pricking your eyes; everything was not fine. “This is Taehyung. He’s an incredible dancer and he wanted to enter the competition, but he didn’t have a partner. Seeing as I’ve been to many, I thought it would be good for you to go together. I’ve already instructed him on all our choreographies, but like I was telling him, you can change anything as you please. Make it your own.”

Taehyung said something you didn’t quite hear, though you bowed out of a reflex when he did. You were drawing a blank.

“What do you say?” Taehyung asked with a smile, hopeful, and you just blinked at him, and then at Jimin.

His jawline twitched as though he feared you’d cause a scene, and you could feel something inside your chest collapse. The tears stinging your eyes were suddenly embarrassing, and the anger flared inside you a thousandfold. None of that was fair: his attitude, changing partners, not talking to you, not treating you with fucking respect, not—

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Taehyung interrupted your thoughts with a thoughtful, soft voice. “I’m not a teacher like Jimin is, but I can promise you I’ll do my best to learn every step with you.”

“You’re perfectly experienced,” Jimin retorted, twisting your stomach yet again. Why wouldn’t he let you talk? “You could be a trainer here if you wanted.”

Taehyung smiled and answered, but you didn't hear it. That was it, the moment you made a decision.

You bowed to Taehyung again specifically, who rushed to bow back, then spun on your heels and walked away.

You heard the silence behind you but you were too busy containing your stomach’s content to care. You only stopped when the harsh winter cold hit your cheeks, and finally it seemed like you could breathe. Yet, instantly, your guts twisted, and you bent forward, staring at the snow as your mouth filled with saliva. All you could do was control your breath as your eyes filled with tears, waiting to see if you’d vomit or not.

“Are you okay?”

Hoseok’s voice didn’t startle you, and since it was him, you didn’t bother pretending you were fine. You shook your head. “It will pass.”

He nodded though you didn’t see it. “Maybe a bit of water?”

“No, I can’t… stomach anything right now.”

While you tried taking deep, cold breaths to soothe your guts and nerves, Hoseok looked around before focusing back on you. He didn’t have to ask to know why you were there in that state. He had told Jimin this was a terrible idea, that running away was the wrong decision, but there was nothing he could do.

Hoseok sighed, “Taehyung is a really good guy and a good dancer. He’s very happy to have the opportunity to dance again, but he won’t hold it against you if you decide you don’t want to do it.”

You swallowed convulsively for a moment before asking, “Again?”

“He had to stop for a while, but he missed it. This is perfect for him to restart.”

You straightened up and sniffled, “But we’d only train for one month.”

“He’ll pick up quickly. Besides, you’re doing it for the experience, right?”

Your lips twitched into a smile and you nodded before looking down. “Yeah.”

You took in a few more deep breaths, then refused Hoseok’s company all the way back to the room. Taehyung was exiting the dance studio by himself, looking a bit dejected, and you called out to him.

“Sorry about that, I’m feeling better,” you said and bowed deeply when you reached him. “I’d be willing to give it a go if you are?”

He was a bit flustered. “Oh, you mean— Sure, of course, yeah!”

You were happy that Jimin was nowhere to be seen when you both reentered the dance room. Even though that place was full of memories, you could at least be yourself with Taehyung if Jimin was not around.

Taehyung headed to the music box, saying something about Cha-cha-cha first when you spun on your heels to face him. “Are you human?”

He froze and looked at you, caught off guard.

“Wouldn’t want to start this without being truthful,” you added in a quieter tone, and Taehyung nodded.

“Well, you’re right. I mean, we live secretly, but I suppose it’s okay to tell you if you keep it a secret.” He winked, and you looked at him with glistening, red eyes.

“You wouldn’t tell me because you’re afraid I’d tell?”

He turned to face you fully. “No, I wouldn’t because you might be afraid of me.”

You had no filters; you finally had the chance to ask, “If you’re supposed to prey on me, shouldn’t I be?”

He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right, but it’s not like that. Besides, I’m perfectly well-fed. No danger whatsoever.”

“Good to know.”

“So you’re not scared of me?”

You looked up at him, momentarily lost in your thoughts. Taehyung wasn’t stupid, he could see your expression and guess something was up, but he was patient. You nodded. “No, you’re well-fed.”

Fortunately, he understood you were joking and smirked. “Now that we’ve shared secrets, how about we just warm up a little? To get a sense of each other?”

You agreed and looked around while you took off your coat; the memories of the room risked paralyzing you, but you shook your head and tried. Taehyung was taller, so your posture was different, and even the simplest of steps required an adjustment. Instead of comparing every detail to Jimin, or feeling as though you had just been pushed over onto Taehyung like an annoyance, you tried your best to actually work with him and find a middle ground.

It took a while, but you were able to dance the basics to one full song, so Taehyung left you for a moment to change the song. It gave you a moment to press your neck and grimace.

“Oh.”

You turned to him, and despite trying to hide the bite marks on your neck, you knew he saw them.

“I see, that’s why you asked…” he started, then shook his head. “But I need to ask… was it consensual?” Your posture became rigid, and he raised his hands placatingly. “You can tell me, it’s okay. If you wanted it to happen, then it’s good. But you should know it’s not allowed otherwise, so…”

“I… didn’t know it could happen but… I don’t regret that it did.”

He frowned ever so slightly, but before he opened his mouth, he glanced behind you. You knew the door was closed and there was no one behind you, you could see it in the mirror. 

“Did… Jimin do that?” he asked quietly, and you nodded. “I see. Maybe we should start next week—”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Maybe we can take it a bit slower, then.”

You agreed and noticed how much gentler Taehyung was for the remainder of your practice, making no sudden movements nor complicated steps. Still, you remained fairly rigid and were thankful when the training came to an end.

“Here.”

You thanked Taehyung for the electrolyte drink he brought you while you cleaned yourself with a towel and were thankful to sit down to drink it.

He sat down on the floor near you. “Have you… talked? To Jimin.”

“He doesn't want to talk to me.”

Taehyung hummed and glanced at the floor, and you took a few sips of the sugary drink.

“You know him well?”

He nodded. “We’re very close friends.”

“You're the first friend outside of the gym that I've met. And we still met at the gym.” You chuckled. “Even after almost a year.”

He was nodding, about to agree with something, but then his jaw dropped. “He resisted you that long? Woah, that's… impressive.”

“Maybe I made it easy.”

He tsked at your depreciative smile. “Not at all. I'm sure he told you how sweet you smell.”

“Hmm, no…” He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and you insisted, “Really, he didn't. I do?”

He nodded. “I'd say you're hard to resist.”

“You're doing just fine.”

He chuckled, “Well… let's say that it's a mix of knowing that it's not allowed and knowing there will be consequences.”

“Oh… like prison?”

He glanced at the same spot yet again, then hummed, “Something… like that.”

You were looking at your feet in thought. “Well, I don’t think it was a problem. He said he didn’t want my blood or to feed. I… never knew until he bit me. You know?” Taehyung nodded, and you looked back down. “I would have never known, I’m… I was just his little light.”

You were mumbling, but Taehyung heard you loud and clear and blushed. He eyed you once again, and suddenly, so much made sense, including how Jimin was acting.

“Well, anyway,” you stretched your legs on the wood floor, “I guess you're entering the competition with me now and… that's it.”

“It?”

“Yeah.” You nodded sadly. “He basically ghosted me, and nothing else connects us, and I… I mean, what am I?” You chuckled, “I guess I smell sweet, that's it.”

“I don't think that's it…”

He was frowning, but you didn’t see; you sighed, “You're sounding like Hoseok, and I'm starting to think you're both blind. You saw how he talks to me, or doesn’t.” You shrugged, though it was clear it annoyed you. “I'm insignificant. Maybe it's better this way.”

Taehyung took a deep breath to reel his thoughts in and asked, “Better? Why?”

“Because things would change, right? I'm just human, maybe I'd be a constant liability.”

His eyes hardened. “Or maybe he would be? With your friends and family?”

You chuckled, “You think he'd bite them?”

“No,” he answered, even though he realized you were trying to be funny. He couldn’t take it lightheartedly when it was clear you didn’t know so much about the situation. “He would change you by being with you. He didn't tell you about this?”

You were confused and shook your head. “He didn't tell me a thing. Change me how? Make me one of you?”

He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips. “No, there are other ways and… He should be the one to tell you this, though I suppose that’s his call. Just stop thinking so poorly of yourself, you’re wonderful.”

You snorted, “He left me without a word two days ago. I don’t feel wonderful.”

He heaved a deep breath and said little else because what could he say to you? He himself didn’t understand Jimin, and that was rare and odd.

He walked you out, smiling when you promised to drink way more fluids and rest well so you could dance harder next time. You were adorable, which made the sad smile on your face that much more heartbreaking.

Which was why, when you left, he instantly darted to the staff room where he knew he’d find a vampire stuck in time, listening carefully.

“She’s gone, but I suppose that if you drank from her two days ago, then you surely know that,” he said as soon as he entered the room, and surely enough, Jimin was there, sitting in a corner, frozen still with his eyes closed. Taehyung didn’t have to ask to know Jimin had been listening to your heart all along. It would bring him comfort, and it angered Taehyung even more. “So she’s the one? I mean, we all guessed it had to be someone, but you one-upped our wildest guesses. You found your muse, you bit her, and left her in the dark?”

Jimin opened his eyes slowly with a rigid expression but didn’t open his mouth.

“Why invite me to be her dance partner if you’re going to be brooding in a room nearby with such a threatening aura that you’re scaring everyone in the building?”

Jimin’s teeth ground for a second, and he looked away. He wished he could deny it, but there was no point.

“The least you could do is take care of her,” Taehyung poked, and Jimin finally opened his mouth.

“I am.”

“You didn't tell her anything,” Taehyung accused in disbelief. “She's weak, you didn't even tell her to drink and rest more or—”

Jimin suddenly got up and crossed the room towards the door. “This conversation is over.”

“It's not. Asking me to replace you fixes nothing. She's still hurt. She thinks she's meaningless to you, meanwhile, you've been calling her little light.”

Taehyung said everything he had to quickly enough that Jimin froze before he reached the door.

“She thinks she'd be a liability for you because you didn’t tell her that it's the opposite,” Taehyung continued, and Jimin turned to see the same disappointment in his eyes as was laced all over his tone. “You want to tether yourself to her, and that will change her. She'll have to sacrifice aspects of her life and—”

“She doesn't have to know that!”

“Why not?” Taehyung challenged, seeing easily how his friend was suffering. “You can't live without her, so what? You'll just watch her from afar?”

“Yes!”

“You'll be miserable.”

“So be it!”

“And her? She'll be miserable, too.”

Jimin was ready to fight to the last consequences, but he faltered. “She won’t. She will have a fulfilling life and—”

“Without you?”

He looked down. “Yes.”

“I don't think so. If you feel this way about her, how do you think she feels?”

“She— She's human, she—” he stumbled on his words, then swallowed. “She'll get over it.”

“She's yours.”

Jimin was overrun by goosebumps; he knew it in his blood, but he couldn’t get enough of the world telling him this.

“And if she's a muse, then she's not just human, is she? She'll be miserable because there will always be a missing piece. And because of you, she can't even name it.”

“Shut it!” Jimin took a step forward, ready to push him away. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tell her,” Taehyung said simply, suppressing a sigh. “At least give her the option.”

Jimin knew his anger was misdirected, and wasn’t surprised when it faded quickly. Sorrow replaced it swiftly. “I can't. I know what she'll choose.”

Taehyung frowned. “And you can't live with it?”

“No, I can't.” Jimin saw Taehyung’s confusion and clarified, “She'll choose me, and I can't do that to her.”

“And if she doesn't?”

He chuckled humorlessly, “Then I'll struggle to find a reason to live.”

“So you prefer to deny her the choice?” Taehyung frowned, and Jimin couldn’t face him. “You're selfish, you know that?”

Present

Jimin was contemplating the use of living without you when his phone started ringing.

He lay in his living room in silence. The heavy curtains, perpetually drawn regardless of the moon in the sky, muffled the sounds of rain, though not the ringing, unfortunately. Still, like everything else, he hoped it would go away if he ignored it.

The phone stopped and restarted two seconds later, making him groan and rub at his face. 

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything. He knew exactly what time it was and who was likely to call, and he wasn’t there on purpose. He’d been hiding for a month, and he’d keep on hiding.

One month. He couldn’t believe it, but time was different for him. After all, he was a vampire; time was a funny concept. He could feel it ticking, but it was meaningless. The competition was just one more in an endless sequence of yearly events, barely noticeable. You were the only difference, and he had to shut you away. Thinking about you and time hurt him unbearably.

He’d outlive you. He’d see you live your human life, find love, have a family, and have a life you couldn’t have by his side, at least if everything went according to plan. Yet despite willingly sacrificing his heart and happiness for you to have a fulfilling life, he knew that in a few centuries, he’d still look back and reminisce about you like no time had passed at all. He’d torture himself with the moment he lost you, curse his existence without you, then collect the pieces of his crumbled heart with the memory of your smile, over and over again, until he was finally spent.

But right now, he was just a vampire pretending he wasn’t dying to be elsewhere. You were probably in Taehyung’s arms, twirling beautifully as you smiled and twinkled like the brightest sun. At least, you used to in Jimin’s arms, and he hoped you would in Taehyung’s as well.

But in the end, Jimin would never know because he couldn’t torture himself and see you dancing with Taehyung. He knew you had become close, Taehyung was open about it, and you were doing much better than the last time Jimin saw you. You were forgetting him because time was a fluid concept to you, and he couldn’t blame you. He’d rather see you flourish than be miserable. He’d rather you lived and showed everyone the light inside you during the competition and afterward as well.

His phone rang for the third time, and his eyes snapped open despite his seemingly comforting thoughts. He was ready to grab his phone and throw it against the wall, but he didn’t.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked, answering Taehyung’s call with a frown, and the shaky voice that answered immediately made him uneasy.

“Jimin! It’s bad, you need to come to the gym!”

He sat up. “Why?”

“We were dancing and— and she was fine, but then— she slipped and— She’s bleeding, it’s really bad!”

Was Taehyung running? He sounded out of breath.

“How bad?” Jimin’s voice was quiet and low as he got up.

“She ran downstairs and quite a few have gone berserk.”

Jimin growled as he gripped his dark hair. “What the fuck are you calling me for?! Get her out!”

“I can’t go much nearer either! She smells too sweet and— You have to come! We’re trying to keep them from going downstairs, but— Fuck, you have to come!”

He had already moved toward the door to grab his coat and put some shoes on.

“I’m on my way,” he growled before ending the call and rushing out.

He couldn’t think further than imagining you alone, hurting. The thought of anyone touching you made something stir inside him that, on another occasion, could have worried or scared him, but right now, it was more than justified. If anyone dared to touch you, he would tear them limb from limb. It was a visceral, feral, uncontrollable reaction — that was likely why everyone could sense him so clearly in the last month. He might not have been near you, but he stayed as close as he could without you detecting him, and everyone knew you were not to be harmed or even looked at wrong.

His nose wrinkled before he even entered the building. Perhaps because he had tasted you a month before, he could still pick up faint traces of your scent, even if he couldn’t hear your heartbeat anymore. Though he tried as he barged inside, the silence didn’t disturb him as much as the scene playing out in front of him. Multiple vampires were acting up in the lobby, fighting, hissing, trying to pass through a staff door that Taehyung was barricading with his body. Not so many vampires passed Jimin on their way out and looking around, it was at least clear that the other humans had already run away. Probably because someone had been clever enough to activate the fire alarm, which was still going off.

If Jimin were lucid, he’d worry about the few minutes left to handle the situation before the fire department arrived, but he was also not thinking clearly. The difference was that he wasn’t feral with the need to drink but with the need to protect.

He made his way to Taehyung, but his eyes caught the traces of blood still left on the floor, some smudged from either being stepped on or licked, and he couldn’t help a deep hiss. Suddenly, he felt twice his size and stronger than ever — he wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch you. Ever.

Some recoiled at his presence, and those who didn’t were promptly grabbed and thrown as though they were weightless. Taehyung was relieved to see him, tired and covered in scratches, bruises, and light red stains.

He smiled. “Finally.”

“Let me through.”

Taehyung kicked someone lurking just nearby, waiting for the chance to pounce, before getting off the door. “Hoseok is inside, fighting the ones who managed to get through.”

Jimin only growled, with his narrowing vision turning red. He didn’t hear anything else, he simply passed the threshold when Taehyung opened the door and made his way downstairs. The struggle noises reached his ears, and he would have ignored them if they didn’t match the trail of your blood. Arriving in front of a big metal door, he found Hoseok fighting four male vampires, each one more unhinged and injured than the next. 

Hoseok was relieved to see him, but the others were in no condition to recognize the danger they were in, and Jimin didn’t hesitate. One second he was still going down the stairs, the next he had collided harshly with the closest one, smashing his head against the wall. He instantly turned to the closest one and jumped on them, biting down to rip their throat open, and Hoseok had to kick the vampire’s leg to change the angle to try and save him.

“Just leave,” he heaved, panting, elbowing one that was trying to get him off the door while the last tried to bite his ankle.

Jimin wasn’t able to rip open the vampire’s throat, but his hiss after he rolled away on the floor was the last warning. It was somewhat effective. Despite being alive, the vampire’s throat was still lacerated, so he ran away swiftly. The one whose head banged the wall found himself lucid enough to follow after the first, and after that, the remaining two started cowering and stepping away slowly. They were confused in their wild state; why was Jimin coming onto them so strongly? They just wanted a small bite—

Jimin hissed again with his teeth fully extended and they decided it wasn’t worth it. They stumbled on each other to scurry off up the stairs, and Jimin focused on Hoseok, who raised his hands in the air. “It’s me. I’m not a threat.”

Jimin’s vision was still red. He closed his fists in an effort to hold back. “Out.”

Hoseok nodded and unglued his back from the metal door. “I’m leaving it to you.”

Jimin was still in position as his hyung left up the stairs and he would have stayed at the ready until Hoseok disappeared if it weren’t for your voice muffled and worried through the door.

“Hoseok? Are you okay?”

Jimin jumped on instinct against the door to get to you, but it was locked shut. He heard you stumble back and raised his fists from the metal so he wouldn’t use brute force on it. He called your name, “Hey, it’s— It’s me, it’s Jimin.” His voice trembled as he waited for a response, but you didn’t say anything else and his eyes teared up. “Please, can you open the door? Please, I— I can smell— I know you’re hurt, please. Please, let me in,” his voice wavered in desperation. That heavy metallic door was the last barrier between you, and he didn’t want to kick it open and scare you, but he needed to get to you. “I promise it’s safe, I’ll keep you safe. Please, let me in. Please, little light. Please…”

He was focusing on your heartbeat, and its rushed thrumming was making him anxious. Were you still scared? Were you scared of him? The faster your heart beated, the more you’d bleed, and—

The door vibrated along with a few noises, and he pulled back, waiting for you to pull it open. Once you did, you were a vision and put him on his knees. The scent of your blood hit him a thousandfold, drowning his senses in a familiar sweetness that brought tears to his eyes. For a split second, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to function, but then you rushed forward and threw yourself in his arms.

He caught you, and his overwhelmed senses were washed away with relief. It wasn’t just your blood, but your perfume, your warmth, your touch, and your heart singing happily to him, and he cried. He hid in your neck, breathing you in, and his teeth retracted. You were sobbing in his arms, and so was he.

“I’m so sorry, this should have never happened,” he mumbled, wishing to drown in you and stay like this forever. “I should have been here, I should have never left you by yourself, I— I was always there, but today I was a coward and I’m so sorry—”

You pulled away, keeping him at arm’s length by his shoulders, and he just looked at you. He was crying and had traces of something like strawberry sauce on his chin. His eyes were glistening sadly and your heart convulsed; you believed he was sorry this had happened, and it broke your heart into tears that you wiped away as you stepped back. You hadn’t talked in a month; this was not what you had hoped he was sorry for.

“Is Hoseok alright? And Taehyung?”

Jimin was still on his knees in the same place, looking at you with tears down his cheeks. “They’re a bit roughed up but I’m certain they’re alright.” You nodded and pressed the back of your left arm, and Jimin raised trembling fingers. “You’re still bleeding.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. You had ripped your red dress to make a tourniquet just above the wound, but it was still going. “I think I need stitches.”

“I can… I can take a look, maybe I can…” He swallowed as he looked at you, then shook his head. “I wouldn't hurt you, I promise.”

“I know.” You were casual about it, revealing your wound and raising your arm so he could see it.

His eyes flicked over the wound before falling back into your eyes; your heart didn’t change a beat. You were not scared.

His hands trembled as he raised them to gently angle your arm so he could see better, and he swallowed dryly. Despite being so close to the source and inebriated by the scent, he realized that what disturbed him was not your blood, but the way you were injured and in danger. When he pressed the wound closed, making you wince, he didn’t feel the slightest temptation to lick or consume the crimson nectar flowing onto his fingers. On the contrary, he was focused on your injury.

“I can make it stop bleeding, but I think it’s too deep,” he said, pressing the wound as he kept it above your head. “You need a hospital.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

His heart shook and for a moment he didn’t know what to do. You were right there, in front of him, looking at him, but you were… distant. He wanted to hug you, hold you, cry with how much he had missed you, but he couldn’t. Your eyes were cold, and he couldn’t move.

You moved to get up from your knees, and he accompanied you, never losing the connection between your wound and his hand. “If you think it’s safe, I can just—”

“Not yet,” he mumbled. He needed just one second more to look at you.

“Okay, but I can…” You tried moving away, but he just moved with you. “I can do that, you don’t have to do it.”

“I can’t let go.”

Your lips twitched. “Don’t tell me I’m finally hard to resist.”

“What?” He blinked, brought out of the haze by your bitter remark, and you shook your head.

“Never mind.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. “I can do it, you can go.”

You pressed your wound and walked back, further into the boiler room, and Jimin stood there, frozen, looking at you.

“I can wait, just tell Hoseok or Taehyung to come and get me when it’s safe.”

Jimin had to swallow a growl and take a deep breath to stay calm. You were pushing him away, clearly telling him you trusted them more, and it infuriated him. “You’re safer with me.”

You glanced at him with cold eyes. “I’m safe with them.”

His fists closed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You looked away. “Just because you don’t talk to me, it doesn’t mean others don’t. I trust them.”

“More than you trust me?”

His eyes were thundering, his jawline set with annoyance, and your long pause made him even angrier. He could read it in your eyes; he had bitten you. Of course, you didn’t trust him as much as them. But you couldn’t know how different—

“They’re my friends.”

He was taken aback, but his anger didn’t let him stop and think. “I’m more than a friend.”

You scoffed, “You’re nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

And you snapped, “Where’s the surprise? You wanted nothing to do with me, what is there to be angry about?” You were incredulous, and he was stunned. “You don’t have to stay here, you can just call them, they’ll help me, so—” Your voice wavered with emerging tears and you looked away. “So just go.”

You turned your back on him, lightheaded and dizzy, so you didn’t see him trying to think things through.

“You think… I want nothing to do with you?”

His voice sounded muffled as a shudder ran through you, and suddenly, you were falling back with the room spinning around you. You tried reaching out for something to hold onto, but your grip wouldn’t have held anyway. Fortunately, you fell into a steady embrace right before being picked up bridal style.

“You’ve lost too much blood. I’m taking you to an ambulance, okay?”

He was talking to you, and you just nodded, feeling as though you were floating, the ceiling lights a blur as he carried you upstairs.

Jimin was hyper-aware of everything, including what awaited you two upstairs. He could hear the sirens from the fire department and the ambulance and knew most vampires had run off already.

As soon as he stepped outside with you, he exchanged glances with Hoseok, who promptly smiled at the firefighter’s chief. “It was likely just out of panic. It seems someone got hurt in the commotion.”

The chief’s piercing look was on the two of you as Jimin carried you to place you on a gurney, and paramedics were quickly on you to evaluate your condition.

Jimin didn’t leave your side, even as Taehyung eyed him from another ambulance where he was getting treated by a paramedic for the bruises on his face. Not that he needed it, but he played the part just like the others. Except you, of course, who were hanging onto your consciousness as you answered the paramedic.

“I hit… the mirror… my arm…”

The chief stayed silent as his team scrutinized the gym despite Hoseok’s attempts to downplay the event. At least until the paramedic nodded as she said, “You need stitches. We’re taking you in.”

“No fire,” the last firefighter said as they exited the building, and Hoseok smiled.

“See? It was probably some prank.”

“You have injured attendees.” The chief scratched his chin as you were taken into the ambulance, and Taehyung was told to join you.

“Tae,” you called, extending your hand to him when he sat by your side.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, taking your hand firmly.

Jimin ignored Hoseok's attempts to convince the chief to allow him to still host the competition and jumped into the ambulance.

The paramedic turned to him, but he was quicker. “I’m accompanying them.”

*****

Jimin refused to leave your side as you got stitches, even once Taehyung was cleared.

“I can stay,” he offered. “Hoseok likely went on with the competition, so you should go help him.”

Jimin’s eyes didn’t move from the doctor’s hands as he treated you. “No.” He didn’t bother explaining how the very notion of being anywhere else was ludicrous. “You should help him if you can.”

“Or I can stay.” Taehyung’s tone hardened as he touched Jimin’s shoulder, and it finally managed to draw his eyes away from you. Albeit a sharp, dark gaze that made Taehyung withdraw his hand fast. “Are you forgetting how you left things with her? She might not want you here.”

Jimin’s jawline twitched as he looked back at you. You were purposefully looking the other way so you wouldn’t see the needle, but it also hid you away from him. It unsettled him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not forgetting, I…”

You’re nothing.

His heart churned as he looked down. “I need to talk to her. You were right, I… I should have at least explained to her why I had to stay away. She thinks I want nothing to do with her and—” He rubbed his eyes away from you. “It fucking hurts that she doesn’t know how I— I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he confessed, looking at Taehyung with glossy eyes.

He patted his shoulder. “You’re figuring it out. I’m happy to hear that you want to talk to her at least.”

”I don’t want to take my eyes off her ever again.”

The vulnerable and pained shine in Jimin’s eyes gave away the longing in his heart, and Taehyung patted his shoulder again. “It’s her call.”

Jimin nodded as the doctor finished wrapping your arm with a bandage. “Maybe… Stay,” he asked, looking at Taehyung, who nodded. 

The doctor gave you instructions and left to grab a prescription, and Jimin and Taehyung neared you.

“How are you feeling?”

Taehyung’s voice was gentle, and you finally turned your head to that side. “It hurts,” you groaned, moving your arm slowly before pressing it to your side again. Your eyes didn’t miss Jimin, but you still focused on Taehyung. “They’ll give me a sling and everything.”

“At least you're on vacation.” Taehyung smiled, trying to cheer you up, and Jimin's sad eyes drank your expression as much as he could. 

You huffed. “Yeah, I’ll have to submit a doctor's note to convert it into medical leave, and my boss will be pissed cause that means I’ll have extra days next year.”

You were speaking so casually before the doctor returned to give you all the documents and medicine you needed, and Jimin teared up. It was his own fault, but he missed you terribly. How had he ever stayed away? How had he even lived?

The answer was simple — he hadn’t.

And now, looking at you, discharged with your arm in a sling because you got injured because he wasn’t there, he couldn’t help longing for a place in your life. For the warmth of your eyes, the gentleness of your touch. He’d give anything.

You stopped at the hospital’s exit and pointed at the taxis on standby. “I’ll take a cab home. Guess no competition for me.” You chuckled. “Just couldn’t fix the clumsy in me.”

“That’s not—” Jimin’s impulse to comfort you and say something made you turn to him, and the stone coldness in your eyes froze him. Taehyung’s eyes were also on him, perhaps expectantly, and Jimin cleared his voice. “I’ll take you home.”

“I can go by myself.”

“You can, but we’re not letting you.” Taehyung’s tone was soothing, and you sighed.

“I’ve given you enough trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he retorted with a small smile. “Besides, he’s dying to take you.”

Your expression hardened as you glanced at Jimin, who couldn’t stop berating himself for letting things develop like this.

“He won’t hurt you.” Whatever made Taehyung say those words made Jimin frown at him while your shoulders relaxed.

“I know.” Your eyes showed the faintest spark of emotion towards Jimin, and he wished he could pick you up in his arms like he used to. “Come along, then. I’m tired.”

You woke up with a groan as you got off your left side. The pressure on your wound hurt now that the medication had worn off, but at least it didn’t hurt as bad as the day before. You sighed, cursing your luck, and opened your eyes.

It was dark.

You frowned, glancing at the floor to check that, indeed, there was daylight on the other side of the curtains.

“I drew them closed.”

Jimin’s quiet voice almost made your heart jump out of your chest; you hadn’t noticed him.

“I can open them if you’d like.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with your eyes still on him. “Wouldn’t you have to leave, then?”

“Just into another room. You need your light, I get it.”

You sighed. “I don’t need light. I’m not a plant, I don’t do photosynthesis.”

“But you’d feel better.”

You huffed and raised your head to glare at him. “How would you know what makes me feel better?”

Your tone had enough punch that he looked down before getting up. “I can only guess. I’ve bought Gatorade and—”

“I like looking at the stars,” you interrupted firmly, looking into his eyes. “If I had to pick what makes me feel better, I’d choose driving to the outskirts to gaze at the stars on the hood of your car with a blanket like we—”

Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall. Why were you telling him this? It didn’t matter. 

He stepped closer to you. “If I could, I’d take you right now. I’d make it nightfall just so we could go and look at the dark sky all night.”

“Stop,” you asked, closing your eyes before they’d tear up. “Why are you still here?”

“To make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m okay. You can go now.”

His lips twitched before he turned to leave the room, and you sucked in a deep breath. Of course, he’d just leave; he didn’t actually care. Why was he pretending to—

He stalked back inside and placed a couple of pills and an orange plastic bottle with a big white G on your nightstand.

You bit your lip. “Well, there you go. I’ll be fine now.”

“I know you will,” he said quietly, sitting over the covers beside your legs. “I was… hoping to talk to you.”

You observed his features for a silent moment, confirming his earnestness. Then, you grabbed the pills and the bottle. “You’re ready to talk?”

He licked his lips. “I… Yes. And I’m sorry it took me so long.” His eyes stayed on you as you took the pills and subsequent sips of the drink. He picked the orange flavor, your favorite. “This conversation will happen a month too late and… I was a coward,” he forced out, clearing his voice. “None of this should have happened. I’ve done everything wrong from start to finish, but I just… I wanted to protect you, but I’m selfish and…”

“You should start at the beginning,” you suggested, and he couldn’t tell what you were feeling by your tone or expression. Did you despise him? Did you want him to get it over with? Did you miss him? Had you already forgotten him?

“You’re right, I… I don’t know how much Taehyung already told you.”

“That’s beside the point.”

He pressed his lips and looked down. “You’re right again. It’s just… hard to start.”

You looked down at the bottle half-empty in your hand. “I’m human and you’re a vampire. Why did you even look at me? Why make that mistake?”

He straightened back. “What?”

“That’s what you said. That we were a mistake.” 

Your tone was dry, but you couldn’t look at him for long, and he leaned forward. “Not you, not— That’s not what I— You are not a mistake, you’re perfect.”

You scoffed and kept your eyes down. “That sounds so much like bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“It is,” you insisted with a firm look. “Just say it like it is.”

“You could never be a mistake,” he deadpanned, irritation setting his jaw. “My mistake was to think I could keep myself away from you. Another was to not tell you about what I am. Then another was to run away from you because I was so scared of what you’d think, of what you’d decide, and— I just made mistakes left and right, but you were never one of them.”

Your eyes glistened, and your lips trembled, and he wished he could brush your cheek and hold you in his arms.

You sniffled. “So can you tell me now? About what you are?”

He eyed your hand but refrained from taking it. “Yeah. I’m a vampire, originally from Busan. I’m seventy-five years old—”

“Same as Taehyung, then.”

He nodded with a bitter smile. “Yeah, he told you?” You nodded, and he sighed. “Then you probably already know most of this. We need blood to live, we are allergic to the sun, and we live in secret.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me? You didn’t want to scare me?”

“No, I… I never thought you would be scared. There is more to this and…” He heaved a deep breath. “I thought I was keeping you safe.”

You chuckled. “Clearly, trouble seems to follow me.”

He reached for your hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s actually mine.” You were confused but didn’t let go of his hand, and he gained the courage to tell you, “I knew you were special from the moment I met you. You’re not just any human, you’re my human.”

“What?”

“It’s a myth, or I thought it was, and so I never thought I’d find you. But the story goes that there’s one single human in the world for each vampire, a mate.”

“But… we’re food.”

He chuckled, “You’re not food, you’re special. You’re a special type of human. One that, if bonded to a vampire, can sacrifice aspects of human nature to stay by their side.”

“What do you mean?”

He pursed his lips, but explained, “You can sacrifice aging and bearing children and walking under the sun for a lifetime by my side.”

“What the fuck?”

You were shocked, and he grimaced. “I know. It goes against your human nature but—”

“Wait, you said your side? Because I’m your human?”

He nodded. “You’re the one for me. My muse,” he whispered with eyes filled with wonder.

“So… what do you have to sacrifice?”

He laughed softly, “Nothing in comparison. You become the center of my universe, and only you make sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“That you’d be my only partner. To live and to… feed.”

Your eyebrows jumped. “You said you didn’t want to feed on me.”

“And I don’t, if it makes sense. I don’t want to bleed you dry, and I wouldn’t take more than necessary, but it’s still possible to lose control. There are stories of vampires who killed their muses in fits of jealousy or when deceived by enemies, and— It’s a lot. So when I met you, I knew who you were and… I couldn’t resist the desire to stay by your side. I thought I could stay away but of course I couldn’t,” he scorned himself, shaking his head. “Every step of the way, I convinced myself I could be with you without making this a big deal. Between pulling you into my world to be coveted and harmed, having to sacrifice building a family and eventually having to watch yours die, or staying by your side for as long as you wanted me while letting you enjoy your human life… I thought that was the best choice.”

“You do realize that eventually I’d start aging and notice you don’t? Eventually, I’d notice things were off. Like never meeting any family of yours or… What would happen when I wanted more?”

“I… didn’t think it through but… more?”

His eyes were curious, and you shrugged. “I don’t know. Marriage, moving in together, kids—”

“You want kids?”

“Not in particular, but the topic would have come up.”

He looked down at your joined hands, immersed in his thoughts, and you squeezed his hand.

“Don’t go making decisions by yourself,” you warned with a piercing look. “We’re talking, and if I’m your human and you’re my vampire, then you’ll tell me everything so we can figure it out together.”

His heart was already hurting with the thought of letting you go, but your bossy tone made him smile and nod.

“So what happened when you bit me?”

He groaned, “I think the inevitable just happened. I kept the urge at bay, but when you said you loved me, I… couldn’t keep it in.”

“What? Wanting to bite me?”

“Yes, but… it’s a special type of bite. The one that would bond us forever. The one that would fill you with my venom, purging those human traits so you could live by my side and be mine. I stopped on time, fortunately,” his voice wavered as he hid his eyes. “I panicked when I realized what I was doing, and everything just came crashing down. You didn’t know about any of this, so I felt like I was violating you. I promised you’d be safe with me, but at that moment, I became a monster, taking away your choices, risking killing you on an impulse.”

“So you ran away from me?”

His eyes snapped up. “I told you, I made mistakes left and right. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid of your decision.”

You hummed. “How so?”

“If you decide you want to do it, I’ll be responsible for taking away beautiful things from your life. If you decide you don’t want to do it, I’ll—” He couldn’t say it. He licked his lips. “I’d have to find a way to live.”

You could see the anxiety in his eyes, yet you looked down at your hand in his. “That’s not enough. You panicked and realized your mistake; your next step should have been to tell me everything.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “I thought that the least you knew, the safer you’d be, but… It’s the opposite. I should have told you more. I should have understood that when I bit you, although I didn’t finish the process, I started it. You smell sweeter, and that fact alone puts you in more danger than any other human. This is all my fault, including staying home tonight so I wouldn’t see you dancing with Taehyung when it should have been me who—”

The words got choked in his throat, and you nodded. “It should have been, yes. But you still haven’t told me how you feel about all this.”

“What?” He was caught offhand, and you insisted.

“So what if I’m your human? Muse.” You were quiet, almost a mumble. “That doesn’t mean you…” You raised your eyes, and he was still staring at you, dumbfounded and waiting. “That doesn’t mean you want any of this. It’s not because you found me that—”

“I want you,” he cut in fervently, leaning forward and caging you with his free hand on the other side of your legs. “If I ever thought I wouldn’t love you with my whole soul, it was when I was fooling myself. You’re not just the human for me; you’re the one my heart longs for and bleeds for. My blood sings your name, though I know you can’t hear any of it, but I…”

You listened attentively and whispered, “It’s true, I can’t, so you have to say it.”

“I love you. I love you so much,” his voice wavered as he cupped your cheek. “You’re my heart, the only ray of light in the darkness, my hope, my—”

You leaned forward to press your lips to his, and he didn’t hesitate, moving closer to you so you’d be comfortable as he kissed you greedily. Your mouths moved in tandem, like old lovers who remembered each other’s hidden languages, and you sighed. You squeezed him to you, needing to feel him close because despite all the crazy, at least now you were certain of two things: you loved him, and he loved you.

When you pulled away, he let you go, pecking your cheek sweetly before moving back. He sighed deeply, though he didn’t say anything, and you pressed your lips.

“You’re an idiot, Jimin-ssi,” you said as you fell back to your pillow, and the fear in his eyes didn’t please you. “My idiot, but still.” He grabbed your hand again and squeezed. “I need time to get my head around things, and you’re going to stay with me and explain everything to me.”

He kissed your hand reverently. “Of course.”

“By my side, where I can see you.”

“I never wanted to leave you. I’ll do whatever you think is best, I just… I don’t want to steal away your chance at happiness.”

You hummed. “Happiness… its definition can change with time. That’s why I want time.”

He gripped your hand as if he was gripping hope. “It’s the type of decision you should make with time.”

“But…” You pouted. “If not me… That means you’re feeding on someone else.”

He shrugged. “Bags and it’s perfectly anonymous. I can wait.”

“You’d wait for me?”

“My whole life,” he whispered, touching your forehead with his. 

1 year later

You stood in front of the mirror in a dazzling red dress that sparkled every time you swayed your hips. It brought a soft smile to your face as you wondered how it would look in the videos surely recorded during your performance with Jimin. You couldn’t wait to see them, not just because you enjoyed yourself, but because it was one of the best moments of your life. You flew and spun under his guidance, eyes always connected as though nobody else was in the room, and it was good. It was the culmination of a year of relearning each other from a place of truth, this time, and of falling deeper than ever before.

You pulled the dress up over your head, and the reflection of the scar on the back of your left arm showed momentarily. You angled your arm to see it more clearly and recalled that night exactly one year prior. The stitch marks were faint but there because you never allowed Jimin to lick them away. You liked that mark on you, not because you enjoyed the way you hurt or feared, but because it reminded you of what could happen if you didn’t brace your fears. You think it did the same for Jimin.

The same Jimin who had initially run from you out of fear and had since stayed by your side every step of the way. You knew you needed time not just to make a decision, but to trust him again, and he had shown to you that he understood that and would stay by you regardless.

He did so in two major ways: he stepped into your life and welcomed you into his.

Despite living in secret, he asked you to invite Jiyu over to your place so he could explain the truth to her directly. You didn’t want him to risk his life or others, but he explained that she was important to you, so he’d trust her.

You couldn’t forget Jiyu’s shock at the revelation or her subsequent questions. “So, you feed on her?!”

Jimin explained what a muse was and added, “But I haven’t, and I won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

She had eyed you wearily, and you nodded. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”

She understood why you were taking your time, and it was true that Jimin hadn’t touched your blood since that fateful night. You had been together since, and you realized quickly that you could trust him with this — he promised he’d never bite you without your clear permission, and he had come through every time.

You were curious about it, of course. Especially since he explained that drinking while elated with pleasure would make him feel euphoric, but it would also feel amazing to you.

“But I don’t know if I can trust myself to stop on time if we were to try, so…”

So you respected his boundaries, too.

He had also met your whole family for the holidays, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think your sister had a thing for him.

“He’s just so… stunning,” she sighed with her one-year-old on her lap. “Just where did you find him?”

“Dance classes.” He had smiled, sitting next to you and making your sister turn tomato-red.

It was a nice evening, and although you agreed not to tell them about his unique nature, you appreciated that they’d know you were safe even when you decided to become absent.

Because you would.

You quickly realized what your decision would be, but you stayed true to your promise to Jiyu and Jimin to take your time. Of course, you enjoyed feeling the sun on your skin or the prospect of growing old together with Jiyu and your sister, but… letting go of Jimin in death made you anxious.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him, and if meeting his family and stepping into his world could have made you change your mind, in all honesty… it didn’t.

“Who are you?”

You had flinched at the sudden pair of big, doe, dark brown eyes staring at you while you waited for Jimin at the entryway of this big modern mansion with a grand view over the sea.

You stammered your name before you heard hurried steps. “Jungkook, let her breathe!”

He turned to Jimin and pointed at you. “This is her, right?! Finally!” He turned to you, even more curious. “She does smell sweet but… That’s it?” He tilted his head, and Jimin grabbed your hand to pull you back. “I thought there would be more to a muse?”

“Perhaps the difference is that Jimin is coming off as super hostile?”

People emerged from a doorway near the stairs to the first floor, and you were stunned speechless. Taehyung was gorgeous, but the man walking next to him who spoke first was nothing to scoff at. Why were they all so beautiful?

“He’s protective, not hostile,” Taehyung explained, giving you a soft smile. “Besides, he’s not as bad as before.”

“Won’t you stop that,” Jimin mumbled before turning to you and brushing your hair behind your shoulder, making sure with a quick look into your eyes that you were okay.

“Hoseok told us you were scaring his clientele away…”

“He’s exaggerating.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes as the others teased him, and while you learned the fourth vampire was called Jin and that they all had heard wonderful things about you, you couldn’t help but stare at them and look for flaws, but there were none.

“I have a question,” you dared to cut in, and all looked at you, one more stunning than the next. “Are you all beautiful because you’re vampires, or were you already before?”

“They were already before.” A casual voice made you turn to the staircase, where two male vampires were making their way down to join you. The tallest was smiling with cute dimples, while the one next to him, albeit a bit shorter, was as flawless as the others. “Though that’s not why I turned them.”

You blinked, realization dawning on you before he continued.

“I’m Namjoon, it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Taking Namjoon’s hand had only been another nail in the proverbial coffin. You felt comfortable with those who would become your family and welcomed as an equal, even though you were quite different. The certainty that you could keep your individuality and love Jimin in your own way helped you envision a future that made you even surer of your decision.

So now, with the competition done and a year of reflection behind you, you decided not to put any other clothes back on.

“Little light?”

You saw Jimin appear through the mirror, smiling at you as he shrugged his way out of the blazer.

“I was thinking that I could run a bath if you feel like it.”

He opened his closet to put away his coat while you mused about it. “That’s a good idea. Maybe after.”

He was already unbuckling his belt, and you started opening his button-up shirt. “After? After what?”

His smile was gentle if a bit mischievous, and you bit your lip, knowing how you were about to stun him.

“After you bite me.”

He had pulled his belt off, and it fell to the ground. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said quietly, not stopping until you could push the white shirt over his shoulders.

“But— Are you sure?” His tone was anxious despite his hands on your waist pulling you closer. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself—”

“I don’t want you to.”

The air was knocked out of him. “Wh— You mean— Are you sure?”

You smiled. “I’m sure. I’ve taken my time and concluded every day that I love you and want to be with you.”

You caressed his shoulders gently, and he groaned, kissing your forehead before he revealed, “But we are together.”

“But there’s something missing, isn’t there?” You looked into his eyes and he didn’t deny it. “Like, I could be a part of you, or I should be, but I’m not.”

He swallowed. “You feel that?” You hummed, and he hid in your neck. “Thank fuck. I didn’t know if it was just me, so I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Jimin—”

“I’m happy as long as you’re by my side,” he continued, pulling away to look at you with so much sweetness. “Even though I want to bond and belong to you, body and soul, I know I already do. I don’t want that to be the reason—”

“It’s not. It’s my decision, and I thought about it long enough. I want it. I need it,” your voice wavered, and he cupped your cheeks.

“It should be special.”

“It is special.”

“My bedroom isn’t special.”

“I don’t care where, just take me.” You sounded desperate now, agonizing from his hands keeping you from searching for his kiss. “Please, make me a part of you. I want to be with you forever.”

He groaned and kissed you before peeling himself away to leave the room. You stood there, confused and cold, until he returned with a bag of blood.

He looked around for something while you blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case,” he mumbled, finally finding some type of medical supply.

“In case what?”

“You change your mind or… it’s not safe,” he clarified, putting both things — a needle, you noticed — away solemnly before turning to you. Seeing your confusion, he reminded you, “I need you to bleed a lot and take in my venom. I don’t know how you’ll react.”

“The only way I can,” you said, moving closer to touch his chest. “I’ll take it and become even more yours than I already am.”

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to crash to his lips, moaning into your kiss with such yearning your insides melted. You never forgot the taste of his lips or the love palpitating in your chest, but it didn’t hurt to be reminded. To have his gentle fingers trailing up your curves, brushing your hair over your shoulders before turning back down to get you rid of your bra.

He leaned over your chest, suckling a nipple into his mouth before kneeling. His hands followed and pulled your underwear down, opening the way for him to kiss down your stomach.

He hid his face in your mound, deeply breathing you in. “I should make this last. I should— I should take my time—”

“The quicker you bite me, the faster I’ll become yours.”

He groaned and nipped your skin. “Don’t tease me, little light. This is an important moment we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.”

“Then it’s only right I tease you, don’t you think?”

He growled into your core before jumping back on his feet, grabbing you with your legs around his waist.

He put you on the bed and hovered above you as you hastily opened his slacks. “Lay back,” he asked, then grabbed your hands before you could have your way. “I need you to feel good first.”

“I’ll feel good as soon as you’re inside me—”

He pressed his lips to yours, groaning with such want you fluttered around nothing. 

“Making my life difficult, are you?”

“Interesting, my love. Interesting,” you whispered to his lips, nuzzling him to distract him, though you knew it wouldn't work.

He could feel your legs around him while your hands slowly but surely reached inside his slacks. As soon as one fingertip touched him, he succumbed to his desire to have your touch, and his hard cock fell heavy on your palm.

You squeezed him hard, loving the way he groaned before taking your mouth into a heated kiss. You could barely match his savagery, with his tongue so deep and overwhelming, you were breathless. Still, that didn’t mean you gave up on your prize. You could jerk him off just as intensely, making him buck his hips to slide in your hands.

You fastened your hands, wanting to torture him sweetly, and he pulled away from you with a curse. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You grinned, though you didn’t relent your pumping. “Gosh, I hope not.”

He smirked before he traced the side of your hip until his fingers skimmed over your wet folds. “Me too,” he sighed, observing how you gasped and lost focus. “I still have so much to do… and so little time.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing two fingers inside you swiftly to steal away a moan.

“There you are,” he teased, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. “Can’t lose sight of what’s important, right?”

He nipped your lip, and you cursed. “Who’s teasing who now?”

He chuckled darkly, licking your lip as you tried not to writhe under him. Your legs spasmed, trying to give him more space to push his digits inside you while your hands barely held onto his hard shaft.

You were trying your best, but he just knew you too well. The squelching sounds were but the obvious proof that he knew your body and all the ways to make you fall apart, be it the long routes or the shortcuts.

You moaned his name, asking for a kiss, and he couldn’t resist you. As you let his mouth take away your capability to think, you gripped his dick harder and slowed your rhythm. It was inevitable that he’d follow after you, mimicking your fists around him to fingerfuck you with the same cadence. It allowed you to focus on his pleasure, on his breathing, on the way his lips swerved to nip your cheek as he got close, until his cock throbbed, and his hand darted to freeze yours.

The sounds of his moans were a pure delight as you licked your lips, enjoying every second. You had explored with him, finding ways to edge him through the nights you spent together, and one treasure you had found was how to make him cum without ejaculating. It kept him hard and hungry, and you had found it made him the most feral.

Suddenly, he pulled your hands above your head and opened his eyes to meet yours. “Don’t move.”

You shuddered, and he was already gone, burying his face in your cunt while his hands squeezed your tits harshly.

You humped his face, writhing in place, not daring to move your hands. Instead, you gripped the pillows and moaned loudly as he sucked your clit. It was enough to make you forget yourself, but quickly, it became clear that he was not looking to get you off. At least, not so soon.

He stopped to lick your slick off your folds, letting one hand trace down your soft stomach. “Do you want this?”

“Jimin—” Your voice broke when he pinched your nipple harshly. “Yes!”

His other hand found his way inside you as he glued his mouth to your clit again. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!”

His fingers padding the soft patch of your wall were maddening, and his handling of the situation wasn’t better. He kept asking you, over and over, what did you want, refraining his ministrations for a few seconds just to give you enough time before fucking your wet cunt yet again, and you couldn’t take it. You could only cry out his name and beg for him.

“Jimin—please—”

“What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t form sentences, not when your orgasm was a millimeter away and so well out of your reach. “Fuck— Kiss— Love— Bite—”

He growled, “Again.”

You repeated yourself, feeling so hot you were starting to feel cold.

“Say it, little light,” he groaned before giving your clit a hard suck.

“Bite me!”

Something pierced the skin of your inner thigh, and your orgasm exploded into a million colors. You threw your head back, moaning deeply with every spasm around his fingers. You could feel him suckling and soon hear his groans against your hot skin, but you couldn’t think further than that because his fingers inside you never stopped.

“Good, you’re so good,” he cooed before moving away from your leg. The sight of him with your blood dripping down his chin was one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Not letting you come down,” he promised, gluing his lips to your stomach. “Gonna show you how good it feels to be mine.”

You didn’t doubt it but still had it shown to you when his fingers plunged deeper into your sweetness. His fingers hooked harder, his thumb pressing down your swollen clit, and you rolled your hips, moaning and begging.

His fingers rolled a nipple. “Are you ready, little light?”

You were feeling more and more light-headed by the minute but still wanted to chase another high. “Yes!”

“What do you need?” he asked, licking around your navel.

“Bite—”

He sank his teeth above your pelvis bone, right down the plump flesh of your belly, and sucked hard. You moaned loudly, and a second wave of heat spread through you from that same spot. Your weakness was rivaled by the sheer delight spreading through your veins, and as one thumb rolled your clit and the other over your nipple, you humped his hand until you found release.

Your pleasure was unleashed, sucking in his fingers as your eyes rolled back inside your head. You could feel your body shaking as though you were cold, but you were burning alive. You were soaring so high, you were in the clouds, but something was missing.

“Jimin,” you cried, finally daring to search for him with your hands, despite his command.

He didn’t mind; he guided your hands to his crimson lips and kissed them. You were delirious with his venom and begging for him. There was nothing else he could have ever wished for — he was on his way to an eternity with you.

“I’m here,” he promised, kissing your skin as he made his way to your mouth.

“I need you.” You shivered, pulling him closer, and he laid over you like a blanket.

“And I’ll always be here,” he pledged, looking at your pallor, blown pupils, and expanded jugular and carotid. Your heart was racing, compensating for the blood loss, spreading his venom and your bliss faster. “Always, my little light.”

You reached for him, crushing him harder over you as you trembled, then bit his shoulder when he entered you. You could feel him so much better, so much warmer and softer than before. Your nails pierced his skin, and he groaned, never stopping his love lullaby whispered into your ear, and you felt it. The desperation in both your moans as he fucked you on instinct, pressing his nose to the shallow of your neck as though he was waiting for the right moment.

Meanwhile, something was caving inside you. Something deep was crumbling to dust, waiting for something to come and fill in the gaps. You didn’t know what it could be, but you were left wanting, waning, needing to match his ardor with yours, but you weren’t certain your body obeyed you anymore.

“Jimin,” you whispered, realizing your vision had darkened. “I love you.”

You moaned with the familiar bee-sting in your neck and felt a third wave of bliss rattle you. You spasmed, pressed down to the mattress by his weight, and slipped away as you heard him chanting to your neck.

“I love you I love you I love you.”

*****

You woke up with a deep breath and the distinct sensation of a second heartbeat so very close to yours. The pungent smell of blood was all around you, and so was a warm, soothing figure holding you so closely that you could barely breathe.

“Jimin—” you huffed, tapping his shoulder, and he pulled away to look at you.

Tears stained his cheeks but halted as soon as his eyes locked with yours. For a moment, you held your breath. You could feel his heart thrumming and hear his blood singing a heavenly tune, and when his lips trembled, you already knew what he was going to say.

“My little light.”

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: fight (verbally), kissing.

Alessia Russo x Reader:

First Fight.

MasterList

It had started out like any other evening. Alessia Russo and Y/n had spent the day together, lounging around their shared apartment after a long week. Everything seemed perfect, from their lazy morning in bed to the quiet afternoon binge-watching their favorite show. But as the evening progressed, a minor misunderstanding snowballed into something neither of them had anticipated.

It all started with a message.

Y/n’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with a name Alessia didn’t recognize. She glanced at it briefly before looking away, not wanting to seem intrusive. But when Y/n hesitated to pick it up, Alessia couldn’t help but ask.

“Who’s that?” she said, keeping her tone casual.

“Oh, just an old friend,” Y/n replied quickly, sliding her phone off the table and into her pocket.

Alessia raised an eyebrow. “An old friend? Anyone I know?”

Y/n hesitated, which immediately set off alarm bells for Alessia. “Not really. Just someone from before we got together. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Alessia said, leaning back against the couch, her expression carefully neutral.

Y/n sighed, clearly sensing the shift in Alessia’s mood. “Lessi, it’s not a big deal. They were just checking in. That’s all.”

“Right,” Alessia said, nodding slowly. “And you’re not telling me who it is because…?”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly, her posture tensing. “Because it doesn’t matter. Why are you making this a thing?”

“I’m not making it a thing,” Alessia countered, her voice rising just slightly. “I’m just asking because it seems weird that you’re being so vague about it.”

“I’m not being vague,” Y/n shot back, crossing her arms. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am I?” Alessia said, her tone sharper now. “You’d feel the same way if it were me getting messages from someone I wasn’t telling you about.”

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn’t, because I trust you.”

The words hit Alessia like a slap. “So you’re saying I don’t trust you?”

“I’m saying you’re acting like you don’t,” Y/n replied, her voice cold now. “And I don’t appreciate it.”

Alessia stood up, pacing the room as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Y/n. But you’re being so defensive right now—it makes me feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Y/n exclaimed, standing up as well. “Why can’t you just take my word for it?”

“Because you’re shutting me out!” Alessia snapped, her voice louder than she intended.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension between them palpable.

“This is ridiculous,” Y/n finally said, her tone quieter now but still laced with frustration. “I’m not doing this with you, Lessi. I’m going for a walk.”

“Of course you are,” Alessia muttered under her breath, but Y/n heard it anyway.

She paused at the door, turning back to look at Alessia. “I’ll be back when you’ve calmed down.”

And just like that, Y/n was gone, leaving Alessia alone in the living room, her heart pounding and her mind racing.

Y/n didn’t go far. She walked aimlessly through the nearby streets, the cool night air helping to clear her head. She wasn’t angry, not really—just hurt. Alessia’s accusations had caught her off guard, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

She replayed the argument in her mind, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. Had she been too dismissive? Should she have explained more? But why should she have to justify a harmless message from an old friend?

After about an hour, she finally turned back toward the apartment. She wasn’t ready to talk, but she knew she couldn’t stay out all night.

When she walked through the door, she found Alessia sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. She looked up as Y/n entered, her blue eyes filled with worry and guilt.

“Hey,” Alessia said softly, standing up.

“Hey,” Y/n replied, closing the door behind her.

An awkward silence hung between them for a moment before Alessia broke it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Y/n sighed, leaning against the wall. “I don’t want us to fight, Lessi. But you didn’t give me a chance to explain before you jumped to conclusions.”

“I know,” Alessia said, taking a step closer. “I just… I got jealous. And insecure. And instead of talking to you about it, I let it turn into something it shouldn’t have.”

Y/n looked at her, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Why would you feel insecure? Lessi, you’re the only person I care about.”

Alessia smiled sadly, running a hand through her hair. “Because you’re amazing, Y/n. And sometimes, I can’t help but feel like you’re too good to be true. Like maybe you’ll realize you deserve someone better.”

Y/n’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Alessia’s voice. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

“Alessia Russo,” she said firmly, taking her hands. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want anyone else. And I need you to believe that.”

Alessia nodded, her grip on Y/n’s hands tightening. “I do. I swear, I do. I just… I get in my own head sometimes.”

Y/n reached up, cupping Alessia’s cheek. “Then let me help you get out of it. Talk to me, Lessi. Don’t push me away.”

Alessia leaned into her touch, her eyes closing for a moment. “I promise I’ll do better,” she said softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Y/n said, her voice steady.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Alessia leaned in slowly, her lips brushing against Y/n’s in a kiss that was both an apology and a promise.

Y/n kissed her back, her hands sliding up to wrap around Alessia’s neck. The kiss deepened, their emotions pouring out in every touch.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” Alessia whispered, her voice full of sincerity.

“I love you too,” Y/n replied, her fingers gently threading through Alessia’s hair.

They stood there for a while, holding each other as the weight of the argument melted away.

Later that night, they curled up on the couch together, their limbs tangled as they talked everything through. Alessia apologized again, and Y/n reassured her that she wasn’t upset anymore.

By the time they went to bed, the fight felt like a distant memory.

And as Alessia pulled Y/n close, whispering sweet words into her ear, they both knew that this was just one bump in the road of a relationship that was stronger than any argument.

[genderqueerdykes]

As an AMAB Transmasc who’s also transfem it’s just infuriating that people can be so cruel about us and about AFAB Transfems

as an intersex transfem & transmasc person, i wanted to say from the bottom of my heart that i absolutely despise how people treat you, and AFAB transfems. the entire point of the trans community is that we DON'T CARE about what genitals strangers have or were born with. but instead, we've turned it around and become so obsessed with genitals that we force EACH AND EVERY TRANS PERSON to disclose what genitals they have in order to be "allowed" to identify as trans.

like think about it. i was assigned male at birth. then my biological sex marker was switched to female, and i was forced on estrogen. as someone who realized it was transmasculine first and had to struggle to be seen as masculine and a man, how does your situation offend me at all? you're going through the exact same thing. you don't relate to cis masculinity or manhood. why do i care about what genitals or gender marker you were born with? i was assigned male at birth and identify as transmasc. being intersex is not what gives me "permission" to identify this way.

you're not "stepping on the toes" of AFAB and intersex transmascs. you're showing people that gender is so complicated that even people assigned a gender at birth can be divorced from that gender due to societal or personal factors. people forget that assigned gender at birth doesn't define how that person experiences gender in practice. if you feel that you are transitioning into or have had to transition into masculinity, then i believe you. you are. i don't know what you're experiencing. i have no right to tell you what your experience is. and no one else does, either

people are especially harsh on AFAB transfems because of misogyny. like it all boils down to misogyny. people DESPERATELY want to treat AFAB people like shit for any reason. by any means necessary. and of course, with that person identifying as feminine and/or a woman, that compounds it and makes it worse. people just let their misogyny run free and attack and insult that person and tell them they're too stupid to understand what they're experiencing like. people who behave this way: you're not slick. we can tell that you're wildly misogynistic.

you being transfem shouldn't cancel out your transmasculinity, either. i know people must look at you and just straight up ignore your transmasculinity, but they don't have the right to. you are allowed to be both transmasc and transfem at once, not that you need my permission. i hate that people are forcing you into a position where you can't even express yourself in the queer community without people literally attacking you and forcing you to divulge your assigned gender at birth.

i really need to stress that, again, we are literally the "we don't care what genitals you have/were born with" community... and now people are literally FORCING strangers to divulge what genitals they have. people are NOT concerned about the gendered experience you've gone through growing up. they're concerned about your genitals. and its fucking disgusting. i'm sorry you have to go through this. as an intersex transfemasc person, you have all of my support, and then some. y'all aren't hurting anyone. people are hurting you, and it's fucked that they just don't care.

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 2) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember nowwritten for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It’s freezing when you step out of the community center, and only the fact that Chihiro’s waiting for you to pick her up at school prevents you from going right back in and borrowing a scarf and gloves from the bin of spares. You knew you should have dressed more warmly, but you didn’t realize there’d be so much wind. By the time you make to the car, your teeth are chattering, and the car always takes longer to warm up than you want it to. You moved to Hokkaido nineteen years ago because it was the last place anyone would look for you, and no one’s found you yet. You just wish the price of privacy didn’t include freezing your ass off in the moonless polar night.

You think Chihiro worries about you a little less lately. You’ve gone to a month of pottery classes, and you make sure to respond to messages in the PTA moms’ group text every so often, and once when Kaori’s crazy mom asked you to get tea, you agreed. You left that conversation feeling like you’d been through a tornado, but the important thing is that you’re trying. That Chihiro sees you trying. That when she moves away for school, her worry for you won’t hold her back.

Her comment about you not having friends hit a little too close to home, and it’s still hanging around in your head. You used to have friends — Tomura’s friends, and some of your own. You loved them. You know they loved you. Half the reason you survived Tomura’s arrest and trial was because they were with you, suffering the same way, helpless to stop anything that was happening and trying all the same. Knowing all of that, it makes even less sense that you ran from them afterward.

But that’s always been who you are. When you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re sad, you pull back from the world. You don’t like having your feelings where other people could see, and if you didn’t like having your feelings in front of anybody, there was no way you were having your baby in front of Tomura’s friends. You weren’t interested in how they felt about it. You didn’t want to hear what they’d say. And you didn’t want them involved, constantly circling, reminding you of everything you lost. Reminding your baby, once they were old enough to understand. Your new new job (you lost the first new one), your apartment, your friends, your city — it all started to feel like a prison. You could run, so you did.

Lately, though, you’ve been thinking about them. Enough to look them up and see that Toga’s a fairly well-known costume designer, and wish you could talk sewing with her; find out that Dabi’s doing okay, when you’d been worried ever since you met him that he’d wind up in prison; learn that Spinner’s a writer with a popular series of detective novels, famous for mercilessly skewering the police over their incompetence and corruption. You’ve thought about reaching out, seeing if they know anything about Tomura’s situation, if they’ve heard anything from him. Then you decided it wasn’t worth it. You don’t want to find out that he’s spent nineteen years talking to them and not to you.

Your car finally warms up. You take a deep breath, shove the thought of your old friends away, and drive.

Someone’s car spun out on the route you planned to take to the high school, and you call Chihiro to let her know you’ll be a little late. She doesn’t answer, but she probably just busy. The choir director is kind of a hardass, but Chihiro worships the ground she walks on, and she’d never interrupt a rehearsal for something like a call from her probably-clingy mom. You are a little clingy. You just don’t ever want her to wonder where you are. To spend even a second doubting that you’ll be there when she needs you.

You get to the school, park, and switch idly between channels on the radio, skipping away whenever you hear a snatch of the news. The choir kids trickle out of school slowly, talking through chattering teeth, and scatter to their parents’ cars. You watch for Chihiro, knowing that she stays late to talk to the choir director sometimes. But then the lights in the music room go out. The choir director steps out, locking the door behind her, and fear like you’ve never experienced in your life floods through you.

It feels like acid in your veins. You lurch out of your car and get in the director’s way as she heads for hers. “Where’s Chihiro?”

“She left at the break,” the director says. “Typically I don’t allow it, but she’s an excellent student and she’s never asked before —”

Chihiro left. Chihiro left school an hour ago. You can barely speak. “What happened? Did she get sick? Why didn’t you call me —”

“She said she would,” the director says, bewildered. “She didn’t?”

“If she’d called me, I’d have picked her up already.” Your voice stutters, fractures. “What happened?”

“She and her friends were discussing something. A news article, I think. I doubt that’s what caused it.” The director is frowning now, disconcerted to your terrified. “When we resumed practice, she was distraught, and asked to be excused early.”

Distraught. You’ve never heard anybody use that word to describe your daughter. “Did she say why?”

“She needed to go home. She said it was a family emergency.”

A family emergency? You’re her family. Your parents passed away when she was in middle school and you and your brother haven’t spoken in years. What family is she talking about? You don’t need that answer right now. You need to find her. “Thank you,” you choke out, and run back to your car.

You and she live five miles outside of town — on a big road that gets plowed and salted, sure, but still outside of town. Could she walk all the way home in an hour? You don’t think so. Not in this weather. And you can’t think of anywhere else she would go. You drive slowly, carefully along the road, your heart rising into your throat at each bend in the road and sinking when the stretch of road ahead of you continues to be empty. Your mind twists in agony. A family emergency. What does that even mean? It crosses your mind that it’s the perfect excuse, one no teacher would ever refuse a student like Chihiro — but why wouldn’t she call you? Why would she start walking home in the dark? What is there that she thinks she can’t bring to you, that you wouldn’t help her with? You’d do anything for her. You just have to find her, and you’ll figure it out.

You catch up to her halfway home, her hands jammed into her pockets and her shoulders hunched against the cold, her breath billowing out in a frozen cloud. The relief of finding her lasts for only a second. Now you need to get her home. You flip on your hazard lights and slow to a crawl alongside her, rolling down your window. “Chihiro, get in the car!”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look your way. “I’m so glad I found you, but I don’t understand,” you say. “You must be freezing. Why didn’t you call me? I was so scared –”

You’re making this about you. It’s not about you. “Chihiro, please get in the car. I just want you to be safe. I love you —”

“Shut up!” She wheels on you, and you hit the brakes, more in shock than anything else. Your daughter’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot with tears, and her lips are cracked and bleeding in the cold. Her mouth is turned down like you haven’t seen it in more than a decade, but her eyes are hot with rage. “Don’t come near me. Don’t even talk to me. I didn’t call you because I hate you. I hate you! How could you do that to me?”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Lie,” Chihiro spits, or sobs. “How long were you going to lie to me, Mom? Were you ever going to tell me the truth about my dad?”

Your stomach drops. How did she find out? How many people know? “I never lied,” you say. “I never told you he was dead. I always told you —”

“He’s gone.” Chihiro’s nose is dripping. She looks frozen. “Don’t play that stupid game. You knew what I thought you meant when you say that, and you just let me think — you were always going to let me think he was —”

“How did you find out?”

“That’s all you care about? I hate you —”

Right now, you hate yourself, too. It hurts to hear Chihiro say that, hurts to know she’s so angry with you that she’d rather freeze than spend even a second in the car with you — but your feelings don’t matter right now. They stopped mattering nineteen years ago. This is about your daughter. You shove your feelings to one side. “You hate me,” you repeat, and she scoffs. “You can hate me just as much in the car as you can out there, and the car is warm.”

Chihiro squints at you as she wipes her eyes. “It’s not that far. I can walk.”

“Yeah. But it’ll take you another hour, and it’ll just keep getting colder.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I won’t try to talk to you. In the car or when we’re home. Just — please, get in the car, Chihiro. You don’t have to hurt yourself to let me know you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Mom. This is way beyond angry.” Chihiro takes a deep breath and coughs on the cold air. “If you try to talk to me, I’m getting out again.”

You don’t deserve to feel relieved, but you do. You put the car in park and unlock the passenger-side door. “Okay.”

The drive home is awful, but at least it’s brief. The first thing Chihiro does after taking off her shoes and coat is head straight for the bathroom. The water switches on in the shower, and you’ll bet it’s scalding hot. She must be so cold. And so angry with you, angry enough to override her better judgment and drive her out onto the road alone. Is she right about you? Were you ever going to tell her the truth about Tomura? You don’t know. But you should have seen this coming, somehow. You could have seen it coming, would have, if you were doing anything but hiding from your own pain. Of course Chihiro’s furious with you. You deserve it.

Deserving it doesn’t make it hurt any less, so like always, you find something to keep you busy. You set out clean pajamas for Chihiro on her bed. Then you finish folding the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, folding the quilts that are still strewn across the couch from Chihiro’s movie night with Kaori over the weekend. After that it’s time to sew, and even with the focus paper-piecing takes and the noise of the sewing machine, you can’t shut out a single question: How did she find out?

The water in the shower shuts off. You hear Chihiro’s footsteps in the hallway, then the sound of her bedroom door shutting. Shutting, not slamming. You abandon your sewing machine, planning to go to your bedroom and stay there, leaving her the kitchen and the living room and not coming out until she goes to sleep. You don’t want her to have to look at you. Or maybe you just don’t want to see how she looks at you now.

The thought stops you at the threshold. You’ve made everything about what’s happened into something about you. Who are you helping by going to hide? Yourself. You’re protecting yourself from your daughter’s anger, which she deserves to express, and from the questions she probably wants to ask, which you should have answered a long time ago. You can’t hide. You need to stay here and be the person — the parent — you should have been all along. Even if it’s too late.

You hear the bedroom door open, but you don’t turn, and Chihiro comes closer with soft footsteps. She stops at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Making hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“You’re being weird,” Chihiro says. She sounds unnerved. “I told you I hate you. Why aren’t you yelling? You’re not even crying. Do you even care?”

Your heart breaks a little bit, even as a surge of frustration rocks you. “It hurts to hear you say that,” you admit. No more lying. From here on out, you tell the truth. “But I don’t think it hurts as much as finding out your mom’s been lying to you for eighteen years.”

Chihiro’s quiet. She’s quiet, and you’re not trying to downplay what you did or run away from it, so you ask a question of your own. “How did you find out?”

The electric kettle goes off with a click. “The water’s done,” Chihiro says. “Are you making hot chocolate or not?”

She reminds you so much of Tomura — that same bluntness, that same impatience, that same affinity for cutting the knot. “Yeah. And some for you.”

Once you’ve both got your cups, you head to the living room. Chihiro unfolds all the blankets you folded earlier and burrows into them, and you sit in the armchair and pull your feet up and away from the floor. She watches you over the rim of her cup. “It’s weird when you do that,” she says. “It makes you look really young.”

It’s quiet for a second. “I guess you are kind of young. They said in school that most people don’t have kids until they’re thirty, and you were only twenty-two when you had me.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Four years older than you.”

It sounds wrong when you say it. Too young. Way too young. Chihiro looks unsettled. “I wouldn’t have a kid when I was twenty-two,” she says. “Why did you?”

You take a sip of hot chocolate, trying to calm your nerves. “I’ll tell you that and everything else. I want to know how you found out first.”

Chihiro’s eyes narrow, but to your surprise, she answers. “Takako at school — she watches that true-crime show. The one you don’t let me watch.”

“I never said you couldn’t watch it. I just said not on the TV out here,” you say. Chihiro rolls her eyes. “Your computer in your room is fair game.”

“My computer doesn’t get cable.”

“So pirate it,” you say with a shrug, and Chihiro nearly chokes on her next sip of hot chocolate. “I never said you couldn’t watch it at all.”

“Yeah. Like you never actually said my dad was dead,” Chihiro says. Ouch. “Do you want me to tell you or what? She watches that show, and you’re not the only mom who’s weird about it, so she tells us all about the episodes when they come out. I guess this week’s episode was about this guy Shigaraki Tomura who killed his whole family, and how he’s been on death row longer than anybody else in Japan. So we looked him up to see if he’s still alive — I guess the episodes get made in advance — and there were pictures of him at his trial. He has the same birthmark I do.”

You nod. “And the same eyes. Ever since you were a baby.”

Chihiro looks down into her cup. “One of my friends joked about it. I thought it was funny, so I laughed. But then I was thinking about it, and the — timing, I guess. And I realized you never said he was dead. My whole life, that was what I thought, but it wasn’t what you said.”

She takes another sip of hot chocolate. “I was looking at the pictures. From the trial, and you were in them. Your hair looked different, but I knew it was you. And I guess I — there was this one picture. From his sentencing. You’re holding his hands.”

You hadn’t realized someone snapped a photo, but you should have known. Your fingers still ache from the memory. Chihiro looks up, her eyes glassy again. “It’s him, isn’t it? My dad’s Shigaraki Tomura.”

“That’s him,” you say. You can’t call your voice steady. Flat might be better. “What do you want to know?”

“Why,” Chihiro says at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There were a lot of reasons,” you say. “I think my main one was trying to protect you.”

“From him?”

“No,” you say. “From everybody else. I don’t know if you read any of the articles about the trial, but the way they talked about him — and about me — was awful. People treated me differently, and I was just his girlfriend. I didn’t want anybody to do anything to you because of who your father was.”

“I got in fights anyway. Because I didn’t have a dad.” Chihiro’s voice is dull. “Maybe if they’d known who he was it would have been different.”

“Maybe.” You take a sip of your own hot chocolate, even though it’s getting hard to swallow. “That was part of it. Part of it was that I didn’t want you to grow up with that hanging over your head. Knowing that your dad was on death row and not even being able to visit him.”

“You said he didn’t know about me. Was that a lie, too?”

“I tried to tell him,” you say. “I called, and wrote letters, and tried to visit — he never wanted to see me. And he never answered.”

Your voice wavers slightly. You don’t try to fight it. Fighting it makes it worse. “I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me.”

Chihiro looks disturbed. “So that picture —”

“That’s the last time I saw him,” you say, and Chihiro’s expression collapses. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that.” Chihiro lets go of her cup to wipe her eyes. “Why else didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was selfish,” you say. It hurts to admit it, to admit that what you swore you were doing for Chihiro’s own good was for you all along. But you have to be honest. You’ve lied to her, by omission or on purpose, enough for a lifetime. “I didn’t want to think about what happened. Any of it. And if you didn’t know — if nobody knew — then I wouldn’t have to talk about it ever again.”

Chihiro wipes her eyes a second time. You keep talking, your throat aching more in every word. “I didn’t wake up one morning and decide not to tell you about Tomura. It just happened —”

“And kept happening. For eighteen years.”

She’s not going to let you get away with anything. The fact that you know she shouldn’t doesn’t make it any less frustrating. “Yeah. Eighteen years. I did it because it would make things easier, for me. Because it wouldn’t hurt as much, for me. I was thinking a lot about me and I should have been thinking about you.”

Chihiro looks away. “Do you think he did it?”

“Chihiro —”

“He confessed,” Chihiro says. “He said he did it.”

Yeah, Tomura confessed. They interrogated him for twenty days straight before they got anything out of him, and when you came to visit him again before the trial, he looked like something had broken inside of him. He seemed out of it, too. He barely recognized you, barely knew you were there. You don’t know what they did to him in there, but you trust that confession even less than you trust the testimony his adoptive father gave. “He confessed,” Chihiro repeats, her voice rising. She fumbles her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it one-handed. “Do you think he did it?”

She’s looking something up. You remember all at once how Chihiro stumbled on him in the first place. “Did they execute him? Chihiro, tell me —”

“Do you think he did it?” she demands, and you shake your head. You were there at the trial. Every day. You never saw anything that made you believe he was guilty. Chihiro squeezes her eyes shut and holds out her phone towards you. “You were right.”

Some part of you registers what she just said, but it doesn’t stick. It bounces off the surface and vanishes, because Chihiro has a news site open, with a bright red BREAKING NEWS banner across the top. SHIGARAKI TOMURA EXONERATED AFTER NINETEEN YEARS ON DEATH ROW.

You spend one wild second panicking at the sight of an “ex” word in the same sentence as Tomura’s name and “death row”, but then you force yourself to go back. Exonerated. Not executed, exonerated. You lift the phone out of Chihiro’s hands and she lets you take it — with a caveat. “Read it out loud, okay? So I know we both saw the same thing.”

You start reading, your voice rattling. “In a time of rising crime, escalating drug trafficking, and a loss of trust in our institutions, the accused mass murderer Shigaraki Tomura became the avatar for Japan’s worst nightmares: A remorseless killer, hiding amongst the innocent, ready to strike at any time. Those who questioned the scant evidence the prosecutor provided were ridiculed. Those who believed that his confession to the murders of his parents, his grandparents, and his older sister was the product of coercion were reviled. Nineteen years later, they and the man they spoke up for have seen justice served.”

Your eyes are burning. You blink back tears and keep reading. “In a stunning but well-reasoned decision released on Monday afternoon, the Supreme Court reversed all seven murder convictions against Shigaraki Tomura in light of new evidence uncovered in the course of an entirely different investigation. Midoriya Izuku, a prosecutor turned human-rights advocate, became interested in Shigaraki’s case while working to restore another inmate’s right to visits from his adoptive father — fuck!”

Chihiro looks up. “Huh?”

“Sorry. It’s just — he called me,” you say. “Midoriya Izuku. He’s been calling. I didn’t know why.”

“It’s weird when you swear,” Chihiro notes. You mumble an apology. “Keep reading.”

“Upon reviewing the available evidence and pursuing new investigations, Midoriya made a motion for a retrial, which was granted by the Supreme Court and conducted under terms of absolute secrecy in order to avoid the media circus that ensued during Shigaraki’s original trial. The Court has agreed to release all documents related to Shigaraki’s case and is expected to do so within the next twenty-four hours. Some sources have indicated that a different suspect in the Shimura family’s murders has already been taken into custody, but no official confirmation has been received.”

Your hands are shaking now, so hard you almost drop Chihiro’s phone in your cup of hot chocolate. “Mom?” Chihiro says, and you look up, blinking hard. “Do you know who they arrested?”

Your first inclination is to ask why she thinks you of all people would know, but you clamp down on that. Even though the world’s just been yanked out from beneath your feet, your daughter is still the injured party. And when you think about it, you do have some idea of who it is. “His adoptive dad. He was the one who had custody of Tomura when the murders happened, and he was really excited to cooperate with the investigation.”

“Custody?” Chihiro repeats. “How old was he when he — when they died?”

“Fifteen,” you say. “If you’re older than fourteen when you commit a crime, they can try you as an adult.”

“You think his fake dad set him up,” Chihiro says. You nod. “Is there more to read?”

“A little bit.”

Chihiro scoots over on the couch, making a space, and you sit down next to her. She has to wake up her phone again for you to keep reading, and you get the jumpscare of SHIGARAKI TOMURA EX- a second time before scrolling down to where you left off. “Although a release date has not been announced publicly, it is the view of this magazine that Shigaraki should be released from prison as quickly as possible. He has paid a debt to society that was never owed in the first place. When Shigaraki Tomura is released from Fuchu Prison, he will walk out a free man. Society’s atonement for the crime it committed against him is only beginning.”

You glance at the byline out of habit. This article was written by Kizuki Chitose, and if you remember right, the last article she wrote about Tomura struck a pretty different note. She’d better start atoning right now. You’d be happy to help. Balling up every single scathing editorial and hit job she wrote and jamming them down her throat feels like it would be a good start.

“It’s real,” Chihiro says. You nod. “He’s getting out.”

You nod again. You’re with Kizuki on wanting Tomura to be released as quickly as possible. You’re just not sure what happens next.

Chihiro’s thinking along the same lines. “Mom, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise her. She leans in against your side, and some horrible part of you exults. With the chaos that’s about to unfold, Chihiro can’t afford to hate you any longer — or if you stop thinking about it like an asshole, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen and you’re the person she turns to. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know any more than she does. You’re the adult, but something happened to you when you read that headline. Somehow it feels like no time has passed at all; like he was just torn away from you, like you’re a lonely, hopeless twenty-two-year-old with a baby on the way all over again.

But you aren’t. You made it this far. Your baby turned eighteen this year, and you managed to raise her close enough to right. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise her again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Maybe you were right,” Chihiro mumbles. “It would have been harder if I knew all this time.”

You think so. It’s still not an excuse. You wrap your arm around your daughter’s shoulders and hug her closer, relieved beyond words when she doesn’t pull away. You’ll take care of her first — make sure she eats, make sure she gets some sleep, because you know from experience how much harder everything becomes without it. And after she’s fallen asleep, you’ll finally return Midoriya Izuku’s calls.

<- Chapter 1

[uncanny-tranny]

You know... it's okay to trust your body. If you are separated from your body to such an extent you feel you cannot trust it, I truly from the bottom of my heart empathize and feel grief for you, but you can trust your body.

It's okay to listen to your body and to heed what it is telling you. I wish you (and your body) well wherever you go. You deserve the peace of mind to feel able to do what you want.

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[hanzajesthanza]

you guys… we did it!!!

just wanted to thank you everyone for being a part of this blog… “big things to come soon”

[supercantaloupe]

truly detest how pcos tags/forums/etc are absolutely crawling with terfs

[nexus-nebulae]

it's so dumb that we still feel awkward about creating willogenic headmates in our sys when we literally found out we were plural through the tulpa community

[gibbearish]

also is the thing with the box ever. explained?