#all jumbled in my late night brain

[daisywords]

too many thoughts about Alya and Kirsta today

[imeminemp3]

me when too much good stuff happens at once and so of course feeling happy has the consequences of a crash i have not recovered from in 2 days

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 21 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, FLUFF!!, angst, SLOW BURN

words: 16.4k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 21 ► love me 'til my heart stops, hit me like a freight truck

You didn’t have the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door when you woke up the next morning. Your mind had sobered enough to recall stumbling into his room after accidentally trying to pick his lock, and you did not want to remember anything else. The rest of the night was blurry anyway, but you deduced easily enough that Jungkook was the reason you woke up smothered under the warm covers.

You wanted to stay in your room for as long as possible, but your headache was so severe that, if divided between people, it could have knocked out a small village for two days. You needed water. Most unfortunately, the hotel had no room service, so you had to find your way out of bed.

The world had finally stopped twirling around you, but that wasn’t a big improvement because other things bothered you now, like the carpet texture under your feet. Or the light that burned your eyes. Or your satin dress, which had felt comfortable last night but scratched you all over this morning.

Lacking the energy to change, you drew the curtains to block out the late morning sunlight and threw on a robe. Then you hesitated in the middle of the room, trying to place your belongings. You thought you remembered having a jacket on yesterday, but as you scanned your room, you couldn’t see it anywhere.

To make matters worse, when you left your room and the door shut behind you with a loud click, you were forced to pause and strain your muscles to stay upright. Every sound felt amplified like a megaphone had been taped directly to your brain.

You took a deep breath and turned the corner towards the stairwell. Your morning got a little brighter just then—you saw Luna cross the corridor, looking almost exactly how you felt. Taehyung was at her side, pushing a water bottle into her exhausted hand as he led her back to their room. He noticed you and immediately shook his head in disapproval, first at you and then at his girlfriend (not for the first time, judging from Luna’s defeated sigh).

Just as you were about to speak up in your defence, you smacked right into something solid and recoiled in surprise.

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone from the impact. He grabbed the railing of the stairs for support and turned around.

“Shit—hi,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you out of bed so early.”

The feeling was, obviously, mutual as your reluctant mind needed a moment to understand what was happening.

“What are you—why are you just standing here?” you asked, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. You had hit the clasp of his necklace when you walked into him, and the sharp pain began to pirouette around your head again.

“I was on my way downstairs for breakfast,” he said, a hint of amusement threading his every word as he observed your attempts to make sense of your surroundings. “But I wanted to text you first, so I’d know what to bring you.”

“It—thank you,” you replied, softer. Your thoughts had knotted into a jumbled, incomprehensible mess as images of Taehyung and Luna flashed through your mind again. “But I can go down. I think.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He remembered you saying that last night, right before he’d half-carried you to your room. “Walking isn’t your strong suit when you’re drunk.”

You took a sharp breath. The mention of alcohol seemed to cause an unpleasant swirl in your already upset stomach.

You wondered briefly how noticeable your sudden nausea was, because Jungkook put his phone away and reached for you. You realised right then that you hadn’t even glanced in the mirror before you left your room. You could only imagine the state of last night’s makeup on your face right now.

“It’s clearly not my strong suit now either,” you said. “Sorry I nearly pushed you down the stairs just now.”

“It’s okay,” he said, snickering. One of his hands hovered over your arm in case you were planning to topple over. “Are you sure you should have drunk that much last night, though?”

“Of course I shouldn’t have,” you said, shielding your eyes with a weary hand as curious rays of sunlight filtered through the small windows by the stairs. “But what’s done is done. I think I’ve already embarrassed myself enough by breaking into your room last night, so that’s my punishment. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook said. He took a small step to the left to provide you with a shadow from the sunlight. “You didn’t do anything I haven’t seen before.”

You groaned. “That somehow makes it worse. But serves me right, I guess. I even lost my jacket.”

“You—” his laughter cut him off. You groaned again, only adding to his amusement. “Different shoes and no jacket. Sounds like quite the night.”

You wanted to shake your head but did not dare move it. Instead, you leaned against the wall, seeking additional steadiness that your stiff legs could not provide. Your ankles felt stretched out and twisted around, and the rigid hotel slippers did not help.

“Get something to eat,” Jungkook suggested, noticing your struggle to hold yourself up. “You’ll feel better.”

You closed your eyes. Your stomach was already churning precariously; you weren’t ready to eat yet.

“No, I just need water and I’ll be perfect,” you said. “I’m going—”

“I can bring it to you,” he offered promptly.

“I’ll walk,” you asserted. Then, realising that you were declining his kind intentions and he deserved an explanation, you cleared your throat and gestured around vaguely. “I brought this upon myself, you know? So…”

“So, you should punish yourself for having fun?” he questioned skeptically.

You shrugged. You did feel responsible for your splitting headache. But you also hoped that walking around would help ease your frozen muscles, which was, perhaps, a result of sleeping like a log all night. Although all that drinking and dancing probably added to the pain, too.

“Could you check on Maggie for me, though?” you asked, holding onto the railing nearby to keep your balance because the wall was not enough. The more you blinked, the more your body yearned to recline. “I’ve seen Luna, so I know she’s alive, but I haven’t heard from Mags.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, pivoting around you. He was evidently prepared to fulfil your request immediately.

You stopped him by placing an unsteady hand on his arm.

“I haven’t forgotten that we—we need to talk,” you said. “And our film.”

Jungkook turned around again. Despite the uncertainty that seemed to boil in his stomach at that thought, he liked hearing this – we need to talk. Our film. He thought he would have liked hearing about you peeling potatoes and parallel parking between two trucks together.

“Oh.” He looked at the small window in the stairwell; the stained glass was thick, but the sunlight behind it was too persistent. “Well—we don’t have to talk or watch anything today. You should—”

“No, no, we will,” you insisted. You said this with no additional pain on your face, and Jungkook took it as a positive sign. “Let me just grab some water, and—”

“I’d prefer it if you got some proper rest first, actually,” he said as you pushed yourself off the wall and paused to catch your breath after the exertion. “I can tell you’re not feeling well.”

You huffed again. Really, an average crow—one of those cawing in the trees outside the hotel—could have recognised that you weren’t feeling well. You wondered if you had enough energy to pretend otherwise.

“I’m—well, I’ll take something for my headache when I get back to my room,” you said. “And, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use a quick nap. And then we—”

“I’ll get us some snacks,” he decided, “so you can come straight to my room after you wake up.”

You managed a grateful smile. “Okay. That sounds perfect.”

He smiled back, and for a minute, the two of you lingered in the warm silence, watching each other as your silhouettes merged into one in the hazy sunlight. Once the realisation dawned that you were just standing here, staring at each other and grinning, the two of you erupted into bashful chuckles and looked away.

A new, unexpected feeling joined the heaviness in your stomach, replacing some of your nausea with a sensation oddly reminiscent of bliss.

“I’m off, then,” Jungkook said, waving his hand towards the corridor. “I’ll check if Maggie’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you said, “I’ll see you later.”

And it really was much later.

When you returned to your room with a water bottle, Jungkook texted you to confirm that Maggie was alive and well, albeit dying of thirst, which he helped her out with. Apparently, she also had your jacket.

Relieved that some of your concerns had already been put to rest, you finished your water, took some ibuprofen, and returned to bed.

And when you woke up, you were understandably startled to discover you had slept for over five hours.

You opened the curtains to get a better idea of the time, but the overcast sky made the hour seem even later than it really was. So you tried another approach and went to the bathroom to wash up, get rid of the pillow creases on your face, and fully wake yourself up.

By the time you knocked on Jungkook’s door, it was almost seven in the evening. You arrived armed with your laptop and dressed in appropriate film night attire: dark joggers and a hoodie. But so much time had passed since your encounter in the stairwell that you wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d found something better to do instead.

Actually, you realised while you waited for the door to open—or not to open—that two weeks ago, Jungkook would have probably gone out with Sid to avoid spending this time alone. But now he opened the door for you, smiling as if you had just made plans and he hadn’t been waiting for you for hours.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in. “I was just about to check on you.”

“I think I went into a bit of a coma for a while there. Sorry,” you said, walking inside. “And, of course, I’ve got a headache again now because I’ve been asleep for so long. Should we go for something to eat, and maybe—”

You stopped abruptly when you noticed the snacks strewn across his bed—a mound of chocolate-coated dragées, an unnecessarily large fortress of chocolate-chip cookie boxes, and an entire trove of crisps and popcorn. It took you a minute to comprehend it all, and then another minute to come up with a possible explanation as to how he could have got all this; there were no grocery shops within five kilometres of the hotel.

Jungkook closed the door and followed your gaze to his bed.

“Oh,” he said, not responding to your unasked questions. “Maybe it’d be better if you had a proper meal—”

“Are you kidding?” You jumped on the bed with an energy you did not realise you had and reached for one of the brown bags of chocolates, nearly dropping your laptop in excitement. “We’re eating this, and absolutely nothing else.”

Jungkook knew you liked chocolate the most, but he did not want to brag about the three taxis he had to take to eight different shops to get it for you. To be fair, he had not expected your favourite brand to be so hard to find, but he was determined. He would have found the factory and made the chocolate himself if he had to.

“It’s probably not the best choice for breakfast, though,” he said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Even if it’s, uh, seven in the evening.”

You waved away his concerns, your mouth already full of sweets. Smiling, Jungkook sat down on the other side of the bed and pulled out a box of gummy bears that you had overlooked while trying to take in the abundance of snacks.

“So, uh, how did last night go?” he asked as he meticulously picked out the red bears and accidentally scattered the yellow and green ones on the bed.

“You know how it went,” you said. “You probably know more than I do, actually. The last thing I remember is Maggie swiping someone’s feather boa off their neck.”

“Oh, so that—” He stopped picking the gummy bears from the sheets. “Y-you had a feather in your earring when you got back. I was—honestly, I was a little worried that the three of you had robbed a zoo and tried to bring back a peacock or something.”

You snorted. “We might have tried. Did you check my bag for any stray lizards?”

“You didn’t have a bag when you got back.”

You stopped chewing and turned to him. “I—I didn’t have my bag with me?”

Jungkook paused, too. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to analyse what items you had with you when you showed up on his doorstep last night.

“You had your key,” he said slowly. “And—well, that was it. Are you sure you had your bag with you when you left?”

You tried to piece your fragmented memories together, but your mind struggled to reconstruct the precise sequence of events. You remembered having an umbrella because it had been raining. You also remembered sitting in your bathroom for what felt like half a minute but must have been longer because Luna and Maggie looked a little distraught when they found you there.

You set the candy aside.

“I might have—yeah, I might have left it at the hotel,” you said, realising. “After I talked to my mum.”

Jungkook finished chewing his handful of gummy bears in silence. Each calculated bite seemed to propel him toward a precipice from which there was no return. He hadn’t expected the two of you to get to this point so quickly, even if he was glad you did.

“And how—how’d that go?” he asked.

“Well, it—I mean, we talked,” you said, settling against the headboard of his bed. “She, um—I-I don’t know what I expected her to say, to be honest. I asked her to tell me about her relationship with my dad, and she—well, she certainly did.”

Jungkook took a moment to study the expression on your face, searching for something that he could point out to keep you talking.

“But, uh, you wish she’d said something different?” he ventured when you offered no further explanation.

A measured breath preceded your response. You wanted to explain but finding words proved almost as difficult as confronting your mum about this yesterday.

“I guess I wish it would have made more sense to me,” you finally started. “I had some time to think, and—well, I disagree with almost every single reason my mum had for getting back together with him. But I’ve realised that there’s probably nothing that either of my parents could say that would change my mind. I’m disappointed and angry, and I think I’ve felt this way for a while. I’ve tried not to feel that because it just seemed childish and immature—but I am angry. And that’s fine.”

You lapsed into a silence that Jungkook did not want to disturb. He could tell this was a pause, not a complete stop, and he was too nervous to speak anyway. He was afraid of the parallel between your parents and the two of you—especially in light of everything that Sid was currently sending to his phone.

“I-I mean,” you resumed and Jungkook made an effort to focus on the sound of your voice and not his thoughts, “the way my mum looked at her relationship—honestly, I do think she has a lot of courage. But she, um—she also has—her attitude just seemed a bit reckless. I don’t know. I guess I might never understand why she thought that getting back together with him once wouldn’t already be enough, but that’s—that was her choice. She explained it to me in a way that made sense to her, and I’m grateful she did. But sh-she seems to have blocked out everything that happened after each of their break-ups. She said she was now at peace because she had always listened to her heart. And I’m happy for her, really. But, well, I’m not at peace. This back-and-forth... it brought our whole family nothing but misery, and that does not seem fair to me, or to my brother.”

Jungkook did not think he would ever hear you realise the things he had realised long ago. You had always been so determined to help your mum heal that you’d closed your eyes on your own pain. But it was there. Feelings did not go away just because you wished them to; he knew this well.

And he felt relieved, he realised. No matter what else happened tonight, at least you finally accepted that you had a right to feel wronged.

“Is that why you feel angry?” he asked.

“It... well, mostly, yes,” you said. “Because on top of everything else, this significantly affected how I view my own relationships. I wanted my parents to be happy together. But they just weren’t. And I ended up convincing myself that their unhappiness was universal and inevitable. That anyone who tried to get back together again was bound to fail again. I wanted them to defy these odds, and when they didn’t, I thought no one ever would.”

He toyed with the gummy bear package, and only looked at you for no longer than two seconds.

“But that’s not true,” he said, his voice quiet, tentative.

“It’s not,” you agreed. “I get it now. I may not understand my mum’s choices, but that’s because I didn’t live her life. And that’s exactly it. That’s what helped me come to terms with it all. I got it. My parents’ relationship is not a rule. If anything, it’s an exception.”

Something was glistening on the very edges of his pupils when your eyes met. It struck you that he had been waiting for you to come to this realisation.

“Just because it didn’t work out for them,” you said, looking down, “doesn’t mean it won’t work out for us. That’s, um—that is the main thing, I think.”

Jungkook swallowed. It seemed to him that there were many things to say in response, and he could not find one that he needed. He sort of felt as if he were navigating a field of landmines only visible to himself—but instead of avoiding them, he deliberately tried to step on one. He needed the explosion. He needed you to say something more. But he didn’t know how to get you to say it.

“It’s—that’s good,” he eventually said, because it was all he could manage.

You weighed your next words as your headache doubled and receded in anxious, intensifying waves.

“I’m—I just want you to know that this is still the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” you said. “Which makes me incredibly fortunate on the one hand, because, well, this is nothing. Right? But also it—well, I’m just scared. I don’t think that’s going to go away. I don’t think things will suddenly be better because we decide so. I think it’s going to be something we’ll have to work through.”

“That’s fine, though,” he said right away, and a tired weight heaved itself off your chest and rolled down, relieving an immense pressure inside you. Just like that. “I just want to try again with you. But better this time.”

Your teeth dug into the corner of your lip. You wanted that, too, but you didn’t think labelling it like this was right.

“Trying again,” you said, “implies that, um, we’ve stopped doing something, and now we’re doing it again.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Right.”

“I—I’m not sure if we ever stopped.”

He took a shaky breath, uncertain if he ever released it or if it would remain trapped somewhere deep inside his throat.

“My mum… uh, she also told me about the songs,” you said and Jungkook looked up as though his conversations with your mum surprised him, too. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

This was precisely why, Jungkook thought, turning away. Because you could not look at him when you talked about the songs he wrote about you, and he couldn’t look at you, either.

Rubbing the side of his nose, he said, “your mum, uh—she warned me that you might get physically violent.”

There was a sheepish grin tugging at his lips; he was joking.

Still, you shook your head. “But I mean when we were—when we started talking again. Not just at the bar in Oslo. Or at the hotel in Manchester.”

He coughed, feeling the sparkles in his lungs as they caught fire. You remembered, then—not just the two songs, but where you were, and what you were doing when he told you about them.

“Did you want me to tell you about the rest of them?” he asked, finally looking up. “You looked about ready to leap out of the nearest window when I brought it up.”

“I—okay, you’re probably right,” you conceded. “But, uh, my mum mentioned a new song you’re working on.”

Jungkook expected that to happen, but his stomach still churned anxiously as he smoothed the bedding with his palm. “Hmm.”

“Can I hear it?” you asked.

He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you again, searching for a stronger confirmation in your eyes—and finding it there. He slowly rose from the bed and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“It’s—I think it’s the most personal song I’ve ever written,” he said, and you held your breath. “Your mum warned me about it, which she’s never done before. Usually, she just gives me permission to release the song and sometimes offers a compliment.”

“She didn’t like it this time?” you asked while he unlocked his phone.

“No, she said she liked it a lot,” he replied, placing his phone on the bed. The screen displayed various voice notes: some with gibberish titles, others numbered. The newest one was labelled, PUDDLE_FINAL11. “But she also said that this is a song I should run by you first.”

You crossed your legs on the bed and hesitated awkwardly for a second—unsure if you could really listen to the song and sit still. Then, you leaned back against the headboard and closed your eyes.

“Let me hear it.”

Jungkook watched you get comfortable and bit his lip. He knew this was what you did when you were nervous or excited—crossing your legs on the couch when the film you two were watching got to the most interesting part; crossing them on the chair in the library when you were studying for final exams, crossing them on the passenger seat in his car when you were on road trips, playing Guess The Song (he always won, which he took great pride in).

“This is, um, the song that I told you I was writing in Oslo,” he said. Your heart was racing just like it had back then. “It’s what the band and I are working on right now. Yoongi, uh—he’s the one who’s working through the tone and the instruments, and—well, that stuff. I’m just kind of there to sing and look pretty.”

You opened your eyes again to give him a look. “You wrote the lyrics.”

“I—yeah, okay. And I wrote the lyrics.” He took a deep breath. “This is—it’s still a demo, though, so—you know. Keep an open mind.”

You froze as soon as he pressed “play” on the voice note. This appeared to be the eleventh version of the song, as indicated by the number at the end of the title.

The recording began with soft, but quick guitar chords. The song was not slow-paced and seemed much more postcore than the band’s usual music. Even though his guitar was the only instrument accompanying his hesitant but clear voice, you could easily imagine an overlay of drums and bass.

How I run when my phone lights up with a text /

My friends all know, “is that your ex?” /

They said I bet you want her, bet you love her, bet you can’t forget /

I don’t remember why I lied, why I agreed, why I made the bet

You turned to look at Jungkook, your eyes filled with graphic surprise, but he was staring at his phone, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He was tugging on it so forcefully that his lip ring strained against his skin.

The music shifted into a rhythmic bridge—Jungkook had stopped strumming and began to tap the body of the guitar instead, mimicking the beat of Hoseok’s drums.

This feels like a disease I suffer /

Might break just thinking of her /

Can’t breathe, cannot recover /

I love her, I fucking love her

“The chorus is next, and—” Jungkook cut in over the music, “—it’s very simple, but it’s not done yet. It should still sound better with Yoongi’s guitar, and all the rest.”

Immediately, he returned to his own guitar in the recording, the chords rapid and eager as he sang—his voice louder, more forced, emanating from deep within his diaphragm as the song reached the chorus:

I can’t look you in the eyes /

When all I say are these stupid lies /

The memories of when you were mine /

Are playing in my tired mind /

Scared to fail, so I’d rather get high /

Yeah, but I have to stand up and try

The song slowed for the exit of the chorus and Jungkook sang it to complete silence:

And this is nothing fucking new, /

I’ve always been in love with you

You sucked in a breath and closed your eyes again. If your heart hadn’t been pounding so intensely, you might have been able to envision what the musical break that followed after the chorus would sound like once it was accompanied by Taehyung’s bass.

Before you could try to calm yourself, however, Jungkook began the second verse on the recording:

How I miss you and this feeling is all that inspires /

How this pain shifts, grows, how it turns into fires /

It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing /

Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

Right as the chorus started again—his voice growing more passionate as he lost himself in the song—Jungkook cleared his throat and commented over the recording, “I wrote that part in Oslo. While—after I asked you to come meet me at the bar.”

You nodded—or thought you nodded; all movement felt surreal right now—and listened in silence.

“The refrain,” Jungkook spoke again as the second chorus ended and the music began to speed up, “is my favourite part. It’s kind of pop-punk, largely inspired by blink-182, but it’s also just… it’s a way to get it all out.”

As soon as he finished talking, you heard the refrain on the recording—his words were rushed, the music barely catching up.

Biffy Clyro at a wedding, but we dance on separate floors /

Hotel bathrooms and champagne, we’re hiding there with open doors /

Years ago before I saw you, I was lost without a cause /

You changed my life from the first time that our paths had crossed /

I knew about you way before, I didn’t think this through /

I walked up to you after class, because our meeting’s overdue /

Years later we’re in Paris, I looked around and knew – /

It was always you, it was always you, it was always you

You focused on the screen of his phone as the song played and you did not dare to move—not even when the final chorus finished, and he reached over to stop the recording.

He asked, “what did you think?” and you realised that your mind was as silent as this room once the song ended.

You felt lost in the echoing recesses of your mind. There were so many things in your head and at the same time, there weren’t any at all. Because everything—from the first time he introduced himself to you after class, to Chloé and Kihyun’s wedding in Paris, to the bet he’d made with Sid and Jude—had just been said.

“I… think you are insane,” you said, glancing at him. “And also incredibly talented to manage to put all of that into a—into one song.”

“Yeah?” A satisfied grin was playing on his lips and you couldn’t take your eyes off it. “Did you like it?”

You shook your head, because this was too feeble—like. Sitting on his bed in this room, you doubted if you had ever simply liked anything when it came to Jungkook. Every emotion you felt for him had always been so much more intense and infinitely deeper.

“It’s—fuck, it’s a great song,” you said, tapping your palm against the bed. Jungkook recognised the beat and felt his heart soar. The whole room seemed to brighten, not at all threatened by the darkness outside the window. “It sounded good. The rhythm—it’s really good. I can see it becoming a crowd favourite.”

“Thanks,” he said but did not relent. In all the crowds in the world, he was going to search for you. “But what did you think?”

Watching him watch you, you said awkwardly, “I liked your voice.”

He laughed, finding the real compliment in your flustered expression and your struggle to answer his question directly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

“Was this the song you played for Yoongi and Namjoon that time?” you asked, so you could avoid giving feedback about the way he captured your whole life in his lyrics, and now your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the song. “W-when Yoongi came to talk to me, worried about you?”

Jungkook still nursed a bitterness about Yoongi’s initial reaction to the song and pursed his lips.

“Yeah, um—at the time, I only had the second verse,” he said. “That’s probably why he was concerned.”

“Well,” you dropped a pillow onto your lap, “it doesn’t sound like a heartbreak anthem.”

He snorted. “I hope not.”

You did not say anything else for a while.

You were not in control of anything that was happening inside of you right now, so this was the best you could offer. A big part of your brain was preoccupied with keeping you seated on your side of the bed instead of reaching—lunging­—for him, and an even bigger part was still processing the song he had just played. This left you with very little strength to be eloquent.

You liked the song. You liked his voice. You were worried the fire inside your chest would do irreparable damage to your heart. You wondered what went on in your mum’s head when she heard it.

“I can’t believe you sent that to my mum, though,” you voiced your latest thought. “The whole thing?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug because getting feedback from your mum had become a regular practice. He had continued to reach out to her even after you started to manage Rated Riot.

“With the curses and everything?” you asked, your nose scrunched.

He laughed again. You looked so beautiful like this, analysing his lyrics in your head. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“She knows I curse,” he said. “She’s read most of my lyrics. Also, I am twenty-six.”

“Still,” you muttered. “There’s so much—you, um—you mention the bet in the song.”

His expression grew serious.

“Yeah. One of the first times I texted your mum, I…” he paused here, tracing his fingers lightly over his eyelids. “Well, actually, I was drunk, so I mostly remember this from the screenshots I took. I asked her if I could write a song that would bring you back to me. I was really—well, drunk and, you know. Sentimental. And she said—and I actually remember this part, because, somehow, no one else thought to say this to me—she said that I could, but I had to be honest in my lyrics.”

He fell silent, but it didn’t feel like an invitation for you to respond.

Looking up at you after a minute, Jungkook continued, “every song I wrote about you was honest. I meant every single word in every single verse. And I was hoping one of them would bring you back.”

It began as a faint buzzing in your chest and escalated into a gentle whisper, then erupted into a loud scream, filled with all the longing that’s been there all this time—mostly dormant, but restless. This longing wasn’t buried under mundane, daily tasks, it just existed right there in your chest, pushing sharply into your heart every time you thought you forgot, thought you moved on.

Every time you looked at him, every time you remembered him, every time you fell asleep, the longing was there, and it was growing, always growing—even more rapidly now that you and Jungkook began to spend more time together. By now, it had grown far larger than your chest could hold. And it was screaming.

“I’m—I don’t—I’m not sure I was ever really gone,” you confessed. “I think I... I actually called my mum with a decision already made. And I just needed her to say it was going to be okay. Because, you know. She’s my mum.”

There it was—the explosion he’d been waiting for. He could see the clouds in the distance but he hadn’t felt the impact yet.

“W-what’s your decision?” he asked.

“I want to try,” you said. “If you—if you’d—”

“I swear to God,” he interjected, his voice gaining volume as his heart rate gained speed. “If you're going to ask me if I want to be with you, I’m not sure I’ll make it.”

A smile flickered across your features, but you clutched the bedsheets underneath you tighter to control your expression.

“Let’s give this a chance,” Jungkook said, echoing everything that your heart demanded from you. “I know you’re scared of what this could mean for your job, and—”

“No,” you cut him off. “That—what happens with my job, happens. That feels—it feels like something we can figure out. But I want to try, and that’s what’s scary. Because this isn’t something we can solve, we either work out or we don’t. And I’m scared I won’t always be able to overcome my fear that we might not work. I’m scared I’ll still try to run away from everything.”

“I’ll find you,” he said, and your heart threatened to stop. “I’ll always find you.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though,” you protested weakly. “That’s not fair.”

“My love,” he said, sliding closer to you on the bed. You felt very light-headed. “Anything’s fair to me when it comes to you. Stay and let me make you happy.”

It was remarkable how his hotel bed managed to fit both of you and all that you’d carried inside you for all these years.

You shook your head.

“I’m happy,” you said. “This is right where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook looked at you, and he felt like he was nineteen again, watching you from across the campus quad. Thoughts of how to approach you—how to talk to you; how to look at you—were running rampant in his overstimulated mind. He had just left Sociology class where he’d doodled and daydreamed about you the whole time and now that he had a chance to talk to you, his legs had turned to stone.

He knew you liked Hayao Miyazaki, and he thought, alright, he would lead with that. And then in a frantic attempt to explain his determined stride towards you with a murderous expression on his face, he had ended up introducing himself as Neighbour Totoro.

Your smile in response should have been plastered on billboards; and was, on billboards, actually—all over the canyons of his mind. All he could do after that was just stammer about seeing you around campus, noticing that you shared a few classes together, finding it really cute when you dozed off during your professor’s philosophical rants, and wishing very much that the earth would open up and swallow him whole because what the fuck was he saying to you right now—and you’d smiled again. And the stones in his legs had melted.

You gave him your phone number and invited him to a party that someone on your floor was throwing that Friday. And you’d said, “I think it’d be really cool if you came,” but all that he could hear had been the violent pounding in his chest.

His heart pounded just as intensely now.

“Yeah?” he asked you, breathless and half-drunk as the rest of his hotel room drowned in your eyes.

He thought he could feel the earth move. He thought he could will it to stop, to pause for just a split second until you replied and he could—

“Yeah.”

He had arrived at that party back then, and you had found him right away. You’d spent the whole night talking until he finally mustered up the courage to ask you to hang out alone sometime. Maybe watch a film and have dinner? And you’d said yes.

You’d said yes seven years ago, and now you were here – saying yes, again.

Jungkook reached for you so quickly that you barely noticed the smile on his face, let alone the one on yours. His hands were soft on your cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a clumsy kiss—but your mouths needed less than a second to find a familiar rhythm.

His tongue met yours, and he tasted like the memory of every time you’d kissed him before and a promise of every time you’d kiss him in the future. He tasted like everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you thought you’d lost.

“Did you know,” he whispered, his words punctuated by heavy breaths and your lips smacking against each other, “that I dreamt about you—on the night before you showed up at the company—as our manager—?”

You pulled back slightly to be able to look at him, your lips parted in a surprised smile. “No. What did you dream about?”

“This, actually,” he said, kissing you once more and frowning when you pulled back again, waiting for him to explain. “Except neither one of us pulled away.” He paused here, looking at you very meaningfully. You pressed another kiss to his lips and he grinned, continuing finally, “I hadn’t dreamt of you in months, and I woke up from a text message in the middle of kissing you in that dream. I was obviously pissed. I looked at the text, and it was from Yoongi. He was saying, ‘we’re meeting our manager today, don’t be late’ or something like that. And I remembered debating just going back to sleep. But I forced myself out of bed, thinking that this manager better be worth it.”

Your smile was absurd. “Was she?”

He nodded, tracing his fingers down your neck to your collarbones, and bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

“She was,” he said.

“You didn’t say one word to me throughout that whole meeting, though,” you pointed out.

Jungkook shrugged.

“I hadn’t seen you in two years,” he said. “I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would tell you how long I’d been waiting for you.”

You did not feel yourself respond with a defeated, breathless, “oh,” but Jungkook smiled when he heard it.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in. “Hardly professional.”

“Mmhm—” your hum drowned in his kiss. “Hardly.”

There was something artificially sweet on his tongue when you kissed him back—likely from the gummy bears—and it made your hands instinctively reach for his shirt, pulling him closer. He wondered if you noticed the way his heart rate quickened at that; he found your need for him exhilarating.

You kissed him harder and remembered all your stolen kisses throughout this tour. This did not feel anything like it.

This kiss was not hurried—not until the five minutes you’ve allotted yourselves were up. It wasn’t secret—not until you had to leave your hotel room in Amsterdam. It wasn’t pretend—not until you had to admit to yourselves that you weren’t and could not be friends. And it wasn’t a dream, either—not until one of you had to wake up and realise that this had just been your subconsciousness, refusing to let go. To move on.

The kiss was slow. It was not rushed, and not hidden. It was true, and it was real.

Your heart finally returned home.

Then, Jungkook slowly pulled away, his pupils dilated and filled with something distracting that lingered on his mind.

“You didn’t say anything to me, either,” he said slowly. “When we started to work together, I mean.”

“I know,” you replied, letting go of him. It did not feel fair to touch him when he said that, but Jungkook felt lost for a moment after you pulled back your hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“Hmm.” He needed to find the string attached to the words he’d kept inside, and he needed to pull them out, but he could only do that by looking away. “I, uh—I get that now, but back then, I felt very, um—well, left-out, I guess. For lack of a better word. You talked to everyone else but me.”

You were struck by the immediacy and the clarity of these memories: how you’d made a deliberate effort not to talk to him unless it was necessary, because that was the only way you could stay professional. In hindsight, that should have probably been a hint. If you had to go to such lengths to avoid someone in order to remain professional, it likely meant you weren’t truly professional, just pretending to be.

“I know,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—well, I could have said something, too,” Jungkook said. “But after a while, it seemed to me like we’d silently agreed to just ignore our relationship, so it didn’t feel right to bring it up again. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Your smile broke through the sombre atmosphere in the room. You couldn’t listen to this without pointing out his reactions to you in those first few days. Jungkook had been very loud about doubting your authority.

“You used to complain about me all the time in the beginning,” you reminded him. “You said you wouldn’t take orders from a kid.”

He grinned, remembering, too.

“Well, I had to say that,” he defended, a glint of mischief in his eye. Age had been his favourite argument against working with you. “How else could I hide that I still had feelings for you?

You looked away—he expected this, and his smile grew wider. You thought you had him there. But he knew that in all the years you’ve known each other, you could not find a moment where he didn’t love you. He couldn’t find one himself.

“Maggie told me you were the one who told her we had dated,” you said then.

Jungkook did not immediately remember. “I did?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “We were all drinking together, and you—”

“Oh, yeah,” he cut in, nodding. He recalled Maggie responding to him as though he’d told her he was an escaped convict. “In the parking lot. I don’t think she believed me at first, actually. I was very good at acting unbothered.”

You arched an eyebrow. “She said she came to check on you because Hoseok noticed that you seemed bothered.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Well, Hoseok notices these things. It doesn’t count.”

You grinned, shaking your head.

Jungkook, meanwhile, remembered something else now that you’d mentioned Maggie. It was something he’d held close to his heart for years, and he was hesitant to bring it up now. He knew it was probably not real, but he held onto the ignorant hope that it might be.

“Did you… tell anyone on the staff?” he asked.

“Hm? About us?” you clarified.

He nodded.

“Just the band,” you said.

“Oh.” He held his breath as he considered how to explain this, and how to brace himself for your response. “Because, um—well, apparently, Maggie spoke to Jin after I talked to her. And then Jin talked to Jimin. And Jimin told me that he thought I just had a crush on you.”

“A year ago?” you clarified, a little uneasy about the timeline.

The girls had tried to reassure you last night that you and Jungkook were really not that obvious—but perhaps the truth was that you had wasted all these years just like you feared.

You put unnecessary strain on your heart because you’d convinced yourself that this was how things were meant to be. You’d convinced yourself that Jungkook really did not love you anymore. And when you realised that maybe he still did, you’d convinced yourself that second chances did not work, and it was better to suffer through the initial break-up for years rather than attempt to try again.

“Yeah.” Jungkook swallowed, getting to his point. “And, um—a while after that, Namjoon said he thought you might have a crush on me.”

You blinked, feeling your heart leap into a thrilled dance, each beat a self-assured I told you so.

“Namjoon said that?” you asked weakly.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his eyes on you. “We were both drunk, trying to work on a song, and not doing so well. I was upset about something that day, so I thought he was just saying that to comfort me. Cheer me up. He said he noticed you staring at me during our meeting earlier that day. He said he thought it was meaningful. Said you didn’t seem to just be dozing off.”

I told you so—

I told you so—

I told you—

You remembered that meeting.

You remembered looking away from Jungkook and meeting Namjoon’s raised eyebrows. You hadn’t realised you’d been staring. But he had.

Right now, in the hotel room, you did not say anything, but Jungkook felt the bubble of hope swell in his chest, straining as it threatened to explode.

It was true, then.

You had been watching him during that meeting. So much so that it led Namjoon—a very smart, but arguably the most oblivious man in the country—to notice that something was going on.

You cleared your throat. “Did he—uh, did he know about—”

“He knew I was writing about you,” Jungkook replied. “The second he yelled at me and told me to stop writing about abstract feelings and start writing from my own chest, I pulled out three different songs for him. He always knew.”

“Hmm.”

A moment of silence followed, allowing the two of you to simmer in the sounds coming from your chests.

You thought you were trying very hard to ignore him and focus on your job, and you did, really. Especially when you first started to work together. But gradually, the less you talked about your relationship to each other, the more your suppressed feelings made themselves known: it was the way you always happened to stand next to each other at the label events. It was the way Jungkook was the only one who remembered where your office was in the labyrinth of corridors at the company building. It was the way you looked at him when you talked to him. It was the way he teased you at every chance he got.

“So, the roadies thought you were dating Namjoon,” Jungkook concluded, “while Jimin thought I liked you, and Namjoon thought you liked me.”

“Yeah. Apparently, we’re all twelve,” you said. “I love how that’s ongoing, too. We’re still a very hot topic.”

Jungkook chuckled, seemingly as entertained about this as Seokjin had been when he mentioned the bets the staff had going about the two of you.

“I know,” he said, trying to restrain his reaction for your sake. “But it—it’s just us. You know? We’re the only ones who really know about us. You and me. And about fifty people on this tour with us, but that’s—well, who cares?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Not a big deal.”

He heard the sarcasm in your tone, but he still grinned. “Yeah.”

You looked down and brought your hands over your sweatpants, and his smile faded. He seemed to react to your next words before you even said them.

“I’ll have to, um—I’ll have to talk to the label about us,” you said. “I’ll have to tell them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence stole away any remaining words. Jungkook wondered if the two of you were really as powerful as he’d imagined. He wondered if you had the authority to decide what you’d do.

“What do you think they’ll say?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. There was a calmness in your voice that he wasn’t expecting. “We’ll see.”

“Should I—should I talk to them with you?” he suggested—and realised right away that this would not work.

“Probably not,” you replied gently. “It’ll feel a little like we’re talking to our parents. And not, you know, our employers.”

“Right.”

You glanced at him and realised that he appeared more worried than you felt. You thought that perhaps this was how it was between you two: one of you panicked while the other stayed level-headed to provide reassurance.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “We got so far, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip. “But, I mean, what if they say this can’t happen?”

“Well, then we break up, of course.”

He gave you a long, questioning look. “I’m serious.”

“I am, too,” you replied, not serious at all.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, now you want to joke about it. Okay.”

You laughed, and immediately made him smile, too. Leaning into him—almost reflexively—you placed a hand on his chest and gently pulled him down onto the bed until the two of you were lying face-to-face. Finally, he laughed, too.

The truth was, you felt nervous as well. But some innate balance required you to look on the bright side when he couldn’t. Surely, if you overcame yourselves, you could overcome external hurdles, too.

“I’m not joking,” you said. “It’ll be fine. We, um—we know our issues now. I think we can figure out what we should do no matter what happens. We’ve grown.”

Jungkook looked at you for a minute, then finally exhaled and reached out to touch your cheek.

“Alright,” he said, the tips of his fingers careful as they traced over the side of your jaw. “We have. We used to never talk to each other.”

“Yeah, that had always been the core problem with us,” you agreed, leaning into his touch and singlehandedly stopping his heart for a dangerous minute.

The two of you found it very easy to point out your flaws now—like teachers marking all the issues in a student’s essay: lack of communication, toxic friendships, parental trauma.

“None of that now?” Jungkook asked.

“None of that now,” you agreed, closing your eyes.

You felt him scoot closer to you on the bed as his palm replaced the tips of his fingers on your cheek.

“I’m not going to shut up about how much I love you, though,” he whispered.

You looked at him again, and your smile stretched from one corner of his hotel room to the other.

“I’ll take that over silence,” you said.

He responded with a shuddered breath and moved closer. His lips found yours blindly, but effortlessly. His kiss was soft, slow, and lingering because now you had all the time in the world and he was determined to savour every moment.

Pulling back slightly, he brought his nose to yours, and the air you exhaled as you chuckled softly made him close his eyes again. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your lips and the edge of your jaw, and somewhere along the way, he realised that he had wanted to say something else but now he forgot all about it. He kissed your lips once more instead. Then twice more—until you were smiling too much for the kiss to feel like anything other than a gentle peck.

He settled back on the bed next to you. He was so close that you could barely look at him without your eyes going out of focus. And he was beautiful like this—his hair falling in loose, messy curls around his face, his eyes alive with an energy so powerful that you could not look away from him once your gazes met. His lips were parted as he breathed steadily, running his tongue over his lower lip.

You watched each other just like you had earlier in the corridor, with the tips of your fingers locked onto each other’s skin as though transferring electricity from one heart to the other, and back again.

“I’m sorry I did not want to talk about our relationship,” you finally admitted, your voice a timid whisper. “I thought the safe choice would be to speak to you one-on-one as little as possible. And after a few months, it became easier to be in the same room with you without my hands shaking, and my heart—well, anyway. I didn’t want to ruin what little stability we had with each other. Even though for a long time—maybe even the whole time, I don’t know anymore—we were there, in the back of my mind.”

He exhaled. “We could have talked about us before.”

“We should have talked about us before,” you corrected.

“Right.” He rolled onto his back. “Instead, I drank three bars into bankruptcy in those first few months after you started working with us.”

He remembered Sid’s messages as soon as he said this, and for a brief, irrational moment, he waited for you to stand up and leave the room. Instead, he was startled when he saw you smile out of the corner of his eye.

“I know,” you said softly. “I was asked to pay off your debt at one of them.”

He turned to face you, his eyes wide. “No—w-were you really?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Sid called and gave me an ultimatum: either I came to pay for your bill or the bar owner was going to call the police on you.”

Jungkook had to really concentrate to remember anything, and he quickly felt embarrassed that he even tried. He could not remember his own name, that was how drunk he would get in those days. He couldn’t bring them back to his memory now, no matter how much he tried.

“Where was Sid, then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “Probably tripping on something in a random hotel. He never called me if he was still with you.”

Jungkook swallowed, his thoughts racing.

“Well, I mean—shit,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t,” you replied. “I came to the bar and told the owner your name was Isidore Mercer-Hastings, and that they should contact the police to settle the bill for whatever you drank that night.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He thought he lacked Sid’s perpetual sneer to pass as someone from a conglomerate family.

“They believed it?” he asked.

“Well, they didn’t know who you were,” you said. “And it was resolved very quietly after that. I doubt the bar owner even managed to write a report after he mentioned the name at the station.”

“Someone in Sid’s family must have handled it,” Jungkook speculated. You thought so as well. “Sid never said anything.”

“I don’t think he expected me to fight back, actually,” you said. “In any case, I paid the price. After that, he started leaving you in all kinds of shitholes for me to find a lot more frequently.”

Jungkook realised that a ball had formed in his throat.

“I-I didn’t even notice it,” he admitted. “He—he had me by the throat, and I thought he just wanted to hang out with me.”

You didn’t want the topic to shift to Sid, but it felt inevitable. He was the additional burden on your relationship, he always had been.

“And he’s in London now,” you said, sighing.

Jungkook exhaled, too. “Yeah.”

“What are we going to do?”

He looked at you for only a moment, but his eyes were filled with an unexpected alarm.

“I’m—well, nothing?” he said. “I don’t know.”

“But—I mean, he has to be here for you, right?” you questioned.

Jungkook’s phone weighed heavily in his pocket.

“He probably is,” he said.

“So, he stalked you all the way to London,” you noted. “I think we should start considering the possibility of you getting a restraining order against him, or—”

Jungkook whipped his head to face you. “Isn’t that—uh, a bit dramatic?”

Frowning, you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned to him. “He is stalking you, Jungkook.”

He looked away and brought his finger over the bedsheets. If Sid had sent him only that one video, perhaps Jungkook could have handled it quietly. But Sid had kept them coming.

And Jungkook had already tried it before: this method of not telling you and hoping to find a way out of a predicament that he’d allowed Sid to put him in. It hadn’t been successful. He had no intention of trying it again.

“To be honest,” he said, sitting up, “that is not the only thing he is doing.”

Your stomach clenched with something it had come to know very well over the past few days – pure dread.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“He, um—he’s sending me things.”

“Oh, God.” You turned away from him, groaning. “Don’t tell me he’s sending you the body parts of people he’s stalked before.”

“N-no, that—no,” Jungkook said and then paused to snicker at the thought. “He’s just—he’s sending me videos.”

You did not feel relieved. The way he said it made it sound like it was not just videos. It sounded like it might as well have been severed limbs.

“What videos?” you asked reluctantly.

He hesitated before answering, hoping—almost irrationally—that he would find a way to summarise the videos for you in a way that would diminish their significance. But he was worried he’d make it worse instead. He didn’t want to casually mention them or act like it was not a big deal, only to hear your negative response. You’d think he was still incapable of realising what he was doing, you’d think he hadn’t changed—and he had. He was sure he had. But his hands were shaking as he tugged on the bedsheets and refused to look at you.

“Of—of me,” he finally admitted. “Of us hanging out together before this tour.”

“Oh.”

He did not like the thickness of the silence around you. He didn’t want this to turn into yet another problem. And it wasn’t—it was a continuous problem that he’d willingly brought on this tour.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything he did with Sid, and now he was convinced that his guilt wouldn’t even make a difference. He’d tell you about this, and the videos would be too much, and he would not be enough.

You’d warned him you were afraid; he didn’t want to add more doubts to what already seemed like a hesitant decision. Of course, he believed in your relationship too much to think that you were willing to try again just for his benefit. He believed you wanted this, too. But he was also rational enough to understand that you couldn’t just wish for your relationship to work out this time, and it simply would. You had to work on that. And he was sure that these videos would hinder the progress you’ve already made.

He decided he didn’t want to talk to you about this as though he needed your help solving this issue. He wanted to tell you about it with a solution already in his mind.

“T-they’re not good,” he added. “But I—”

“Why is he sending them to you?” you interrupted.

He paused, rearranging his thoughts. He wondered if you were intentionally avoiding asking him to show you the videos, or if you did not want to see them. He was not sure which option he preferred.

“He’s, um, threatening to show them to you,” he said.

“Unless you do what?”

“Unless—” He paused again. “I—I don’t know, actually. I don’t think he wants me to do anything. He’s just taunting me. I tried to block the number, but I assume he has multiple disposable SIM cards or something because I keep—well, different unknown numbers keep sending me videos from the same… situations.”

You looked away, absentmindedly patting the pillows on the bed.

You were certain that Sid had a goal in mind, he just hadn’t told Jungkook about it yet.

“Well, what’s in those videos?” you asked.

Jungkook shut his eyes. He was sure of it now—he would have preferred it if you hadn’t asked about the contents of the videos, after all.

“We’re—we’re drunk in all of them,” he said, his tongue catching on the dryness of his mouth. “Just doing dumb shit. Shit that I thought I left in the past. I know I left it in the past, I’m just—but with Sid pulling it all out now, it feels like—it feels like I’m still there.”

You frowned, puzzled.

“But you’re not still there,” you pointed out.

“I’m not,” Jungkook said, but his voice sounded distant. “But it—you were always the one who made sure that Sid and I didn’t damage the band’s reputation, or—well, anything else. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I-I don’t want you to think that all that you’ve done was in vain, and I don’t want you to think I’m still the same—I know I’m not—but it feels like—”

“Jungkook,” you said, cutting him off by placing your hand on his shoulder.

His distress reminded you of the night he told you that Sid was in Manchester with you. He was breathing heavily, barely able to choose his words. He thought, clearly, that you were going to blame him for this. He thought he’d let you down.

“Show me,” you asked.

And he showed you—because he knew he had to. He took a deep breath, sat down next to you, and played the videos for you, starting from the very first one.

But like he had yesterday, he cut the video off just as his hands reached out for his dance partner and he wrapped one of his legs around their ankles.

“Wait,” you raised your eyes to Jungkook’s restless gaze, “what happens next?”

“I, um—” he paused, attempted to inhale, and forgot all his words.

He thought he showed you enough. He thought showing you the rest of the video was going to be bad. He hadn’t considered how bad it would be if he had to recap it himself.

“I flip this person on their back,” he said, forcing himself to continue. He was going to tell you everything, even if he had to rip his heart out to do it. “We, uh—we make out. Or try to. It’s, uh—it’s definitely too much. But we’re drunk. Then a security guard comes to tell us we can’t do that here. I then declare that we’re getting married, so he can, respectfully, get fucked. And all of us get escorted out of the club.”

“Ah,” you said. “You must have been really wasted.”

Your voice sounded disconnected somehow—like you hadn’t fully grasped that he was the person in the video.

Or, he thought in a brief moment of lightness, maybe you had grasped it, but it made no difference because it’s been so long.

But Jungkook couldn’t hold onto this hopeful thought for too long. He felt he deserved stronger adjectives.

“Is this it?” you asked after a moment. His phone screen had gone dark after he hadn’t pressed on anything else. “Is that all he—”

“No,” he said. “That’s, um—that’s only the first one he sent.”

Then he played you the three newest videos—the ones he’d just received earlier today after he turned his phone back on.

All the videos were from days that he could scarcely remember. Sid had filmed him dancing, arguing, screaming, engaging in other activities that would earn a community label if the video got publicised, and drinking. Alcohol was featured heavily in all the videos.

You maintained a neutral expression through the first few clips but finally frowned when you watched the third one. In it, Jungkook was having a heated argument with someone outside what appeared to be a nightclub—the only indication was a bright neon sign behind the two figures on the screen.

Jungkook was visibly agitated in the video, hurling all curses known to mankind—and some only known to animalkind—at a red-faced man whom you did not recognise. The man remained silent, swaying slightly on his feet, frowning more and more with each passing second.

You attempted to remember this moment, trying to place the street where the video was taken—you thought Sid had asked you to pick up Jungkook from somewhere around here. But as you watched it, you could not remember Jungkook harassing a seemingly random person. And then you realised that this likely wasn’t a random person, and Jungkook wasn’t the one harassing him.

Turning your head to look at him, you were surprised to see the resolute defeat on Jungkook’s face. He appeared to be waiting to be sentenced.

“He cut the video,” you said, looking back at his phone, “to make you look intentionally aggressive. This guy—he approached you at the bar, didn’t he?”

Jungkook only hummed. It took him another minute to relax his muscles so he could speak—by that time, the video had already ended, and he snickered bitterly.

“Yeah. He used a few pretty slurs, so I told him we should take it outside,” he said. “Right after the video ended, he actually threw a vodka bottle at my head. It didn’t hit me, but we got into a—a fight, and I cut myself on a shard. No stitches, but, um, it bled like a bitch.”

“Fuck, that’s—I-I remember you bleeding,” you said, looking away. You’d wrapped your scarf on his hand when you found him behind that club, on the street from the video, sometime later. He’d refused a hospital and you had not slept the whole night after you dropped him off at his house. “What was Sid doing while that was happening?”

“Well, he watched,” Jungkook said, locking his phone. “He watched and filmed, and now he’s trying to make it seem like I picked that fight.”

You quieted. The videos had made it very clear that Sid was crafting a narrative about Jungkook—to make him look like an ungrateful, aggressive, alcoholic womaniser. Clearly, he was creating Jungkook’s fictional image after himself, and you would have pointed out the irony if you weren’t so annoyed.

“I know it’s my fault,” Jungkook added. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to get under my skin like that, but—”

“How long ago was this?” you interjected.

“I—it—a while,” he said, worried that this was the wrong answer. “I can’t remember.”

“Were you in Rated Riot?” you asked, hoping to determine a more specific timeline, because understanding when the videos were taken might help you figure out what Sid wanted. But you also just wanted to keep asking Jungkook for technical details to keep him out of his own head.

“I think so,” Jungkook said. “Because—I’m trying to figure out why Sid chose to send me these specific videos since I’m sure he has a lot of other great ones, you know what I mean? So, why these?”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he called you to come pick me up at the end of these nights,” he said with an unsettling hollowness behind his eyes. “And you—well, I don’t remember, but according to what Sid told me later, you never asked what we were doing. You just pulled me out of these situations… and brought me home. A-and now he wants to show you that—he wants you to know what we were doing. What I was doing.”

“Okay,” you said. “But it—it’s been ages.”

He seemed taken aback by the ease in your voice, and his surprise was crushing. You realised he was expecting you not to talk to him again now that you’ve seen the videos.

To Jungkook, that would have made sense.

For years, his self-worth depended on how he was perceived and whether he lived up to expectations. And he balanced between wanting to live up to very different expectations from very different people: Sid, on the one hand. You and his grandmother, on the other.

That was why he didn’t tell his grandmother that he was friends with Sid. It was why he didn’t tell you about all his failed attempts at making your relationship special. It was why he refused to admit to Sid that he still loved you.

And, ultimately, it was why he did not want to reminisce about the nights in Sid’s videos. Nights when he knew he was making mistakes, but he needed to escape from his thoughts too much to care.

Jungkook realised all that. He understood. But there was nothing he could do with the voices, screaming at him in his head. They were telling him that his friends had all turned to reasons why you broke up that first time. He turned them into those reasons. And now those reasons were right here, on his phone.

“I know. But I just—it feels like this is something I can’t run away from,” he said. “It feels like Sid is telling me that this is who I really am. That I’ll always fuck up in the end, and that I’ll die trying—and failing—to be someone better.”

You were shaking your head, and Jungkook shook his, too, to counter your refusal to agree with him.

“No, look, I think that Sid means to use this to, well, to humiliate us,” he insisted. “Or—or just you. Like, ‘see what he was doing? And you still took care of him.’ So you would—you would realise what I’m—what kind of person—and you would change your mind about me—and about—about this. And then...”

He could not find the end of his sentence, but you knew what this was. Jungkook excelled in most things, but he had a throbbing Achilles’ heel – it was his fear of disappointing the people who mattered most to him.

The first time you learned this about him was at his twenty-first birthday party. Minjun, already very drunk, had decided to make a toast and told everyone a story about when he and Jungkook were fourteen. Among all of Jungkook’s friends, Minjun was the only one who’d actually been to his house, and on that day, they were riding bicycles around Jungkook’s front yard with Jungkook and his cousins. Jungkook wanted to perform a trick and he wanted Minjun to record it to brag to Sid later. But as soon as he lifted the front wheel off the ground, he ended up in his grandmother’s azaleas.

The story at the birthday party ended there, with everyone politely laughing and clapping, but Jungkook gave you the rest of it later.

Apparently, his grandmother had warned him about the flowers in advance; she told him not to bike there. And he had. He’d done what she told him not to do. Really, it was because he wanted to outdo Sid, so this could have been another thing that Sid had ruined—but Jungkook couldn’t even get to that part. He was already defeated by the sheer force of his guilt for letting his grandmother down. He was devastated.

He said she hadn’t even yelled at him after she saw how grief-stricken he was. But he still replanted the whole garden and watered the shrubs every day.

And as you listened to Minjun’s story at that birthday party, you realised that even then, almost a decade later, Jungkook flinched every time his friend mentioned azaleas. And he would keep flinching, as you would see in years to come, whenever his grandmother would bring up her garden.

Jungkook never forgot his mistakes, and they all weighed heavily on him. He could only escape them when he was surrounded by people, their voices drowning out his own.

He thought no one knew—he took a paradoxical solace in the belief that only he and the voices in his head knew about what went on inside him—but you’ve seen it over the years.

“No—but these things don’t make you a terrible person,” you said. It didn’t feel like enough, but the thoughts in your head were fast and frail—you could not find one to settle on.

Still, Jungkook looked stunned.

“I—they don’t?” he asked—with a genuine confusion that broke your heart.

“Jungkook,” you said, the edges of your voice desperate.

“No, I—I know,” he said, averting his gaze. “I know. But—really, this is my fault. I did that. I went out with him. It’s—”

“Your fault was staying with Sid for so long,” you interrupted. “That’s your only fault. But realising what was wrong with these people that you surrounded yourself with—that—that’s not wrong. That’s good. You’ve come a long way from the days in those videos.”

He heard you. But a sudden memory still resurfaced in his head: Taehyung had talked to him in the hotel corridor in Amsterdam. He had accused him of fooling around with you and reminded him that your relationship affected the whole band. Jungkook had told him he was serious. He wasn’t fooling around.

He’d meant it—but the bet had been ongoing. However much he wished it not to be, it was fucking ongoing.

And now Jungkook was all the more aware of the thin line between your decision to try this again with him, and the absolute recklessness of this choice. Had he come a long way? Was he different? Or was he really just running away from who he really was?

It would affect the whole band, Taehyung had said.

If he wasn’t good enough for you, he would ruin everything.

“But look how long it took me,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t—I can’t erase all the shit I did just because I suddenly decided to be a different person.”

“You can’t erase it,” you said, the conviction in your voice rivalling his anxiety, “but you can learn and move on from it.”

He shook his head again. “How can I do that when Sid won’t let me move on?”

“You can do it by accepting these videos as lessons,” you said. “But leaving everything in them in the past. You can do it by not letting Sid get to you anymore. I mean, you’re already doing it. You showed me the videos, which was what Sid threatened you with. You took away everything he was holding against you. You’re doing okay, Jungkook.”

He looked down and swallowed.

He wanted to believe he was okay so much. But there were so many weights on his chest and he could not shake them off. He could not escape them. He could not even pretend they were not there.

This was the reason, he knew, why he dreaded being alone and inevitably recalling every single time in his life when he could have been better, but wasn’t. When he could have been more, but chose not to. When he could have chosen you, but didn’t.

He longed for you in a way that he hadn’t longed for anything in his life before—so much that it hurt to think and his whole body felt grey and tense—but he’d already let you down. He’d let himself down.

“I hurt you,” he said after a minute, covering his face with his hands. “And, fuck, I don’t—I’m not saying this to guilt-trip you into forgiving and forgetting everything. I’m just fucking—I’m so fucked up. I love you more than anything in my life, but I-I can’t spend a single minute by myself without thinking about how fucking fucked up I am. And I’ve done so much stupid fucking shit. I don’t want it to hurt you any more than it already fucking has. And I know you’re the last person who should be comforting me about this. I’m just—I can’t get over those—”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your chest against his, forcing him to still in your embrace and finally stop speaking.

After a breathless minute, he finally inhaled and you felt him lower his hands from his face and tentatively slide them around your waist, his grip tightening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. It was still his fear talking, you could feel it pressing against your chest as you pulled him closer until you couldn’t breathe, either. “I don’t think I can ever be enough for—”

“You’re you, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “That’s enough for me.”

He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes; you felt his lashes flutter against the side of your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

He held you and breathed you in for an amount of time that no clock could not keep up with, but it still felt insufficient. And when you pulled back slightly to look at him, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that expressed everything that words could not.

“Thank you,” he added. “For everything.”

You kissed him back—not to say you’re welcome, or no problem. You kissed him to tell him that you had finally made a choice. You were here. And you were staying.

He understood all of it as his lips pressed to yours, as your tongues touched and your breaths mixed together, as his hands settled around your waist as if they’d never been elsewhere. But you sensed his nervous heartbeat against your chest, even though he tried to fight against it.

“Promise me,” he whispered against your lips, “that you’ll tell me if I let you down again.”

Gently—but swiftly—you pulled away.

“I’ll tell you right now,” you said, the firmness in your tone contrasting with the tenderness of your touch as you held a hand to his chest and another one on the side of his face. “You let me down when you put yourself down. We make mistakes, we own up to them, we learn from them. We try too hard, we don’t always succeed, but we get through it together. That’s what we do. And we talk to each other about it all.”

The second you stopped speaking, he pulled you to himself with enough force to knock your breath out of your lungs. You rested your head against his, your heart pounding to the beat of his pulse.

“We’re very co-dependent,” he whispered and the tension in your chest finally eased at his light tone.

“Yes,” you stated. “It’s how we are.”

He snickered and lingered some more in your arms. You rested your hands on his back, rubbing gentle circles and steadily calming down his mind, his heart, and the entirety of his tired soul.

“Maggie, um—she took a picture of us in Amsterdam,” you said. “Did you know?”

He furrowed his eyebrows but allowed you to pull away as he thought about this.

“Wh—oh, in the bathtub?” he asked.

“Yeah. You’ve seen it?”

“Yeah, she sent it to me a while ago,” he said. And, overwhelmed by the honesty of the moment, he added, “it’s beautiful.”

That wasn’t a secret—he’d named his newest song after the moment you’d shared in that bathroom—but he still questioned if he should have said this right now. He could imagine your shock about the picture—that was why he chose not to show it to you when Maggie sent it to him.

But your expression remained gentle, almost pleased.

“Yeah, I liked it, too,” you said. “Well, after I got over the fact that we left the fucking door open.”

He chuckled softly, the sound straining against the cuts and bruises in his chest.

“But anyway, my point is, focus on things like that,” you continued. “That’s who you are. You’re not a video from fuck knows how long ago. Sid doesn’t own you, and he does not control you.”

Jungkook swallowed and lowered his gaze. He nodded his head a few times, but you still started to feel uneasy—was this enough? Or was Sid’s presence in his head still heavier than yours?

You looked around for a distraction, and quickly found one, partially hidden under a stack of cookies.

“We had a film to watch,” you said, pulling your laptop out and accidentally knocking down some of the candy towers he had built on the bed.

Jungkook glanced up and caught a bag of chocolates right before it hit him on the arm. “Oh—w-we had. But how’s your head?”

You had completely forgotten it existed at all, which certainly alleviated your headache. The pure adrenaline from being so close to him probably contributed, too.

“It’s good,” you said, opening your laptop and turning around to adjust the pillows on the bed for more comfort. “I’m great.”

“I still think you should get proper food,” he said, and it struck you that this pattern of worrying, comforting, and taking care of each other in turns was truly a regular occurrence between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you said. “We’ve got chocolate and more cookies than we should be allowed to eat. I want to live out my nine-year-old fantasy and my dentist’s worst nightmare.”

He smiled at that, but still hesitated. “Okay, but—well, maybe you would rather sleep?”

“I—alright.” You pushed your laptop aside and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now it’s starting to sound like you don’t want to watch this with me.”

“I do,” he said, coming to sit across from you so he could push the laptop back towards you. “I’m just—”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. “I want to be here.”

Hearing that made him happy—the jump-off-buildings kind of happy, where he was glad to have you here or else he really would’ve had no way to keep it all inside himself—but he seemed to still wait for something. The air in the room was still thick with everything that you’d talked about tonight.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We don’t have to do this—after everything.”

“I want to do this,” you said. And then, responding to the doubts he chose not to voice, you added, “I want to do everything with you.”

He watched as you leaned over your laptop to set up the film across the bed from him. He hadn’t realised he could feel so suffocated from the butterflies in his chest—his stomach could no longer contain them—and he was worried about opening his mouth in case they would try to escape. They’d fill this whole room with their fluttering wings, and the two of you would simply not fit.

“I love you,” he breathed out.

You raised your head and smiled at him—easily, effortlessly. Like you’ve done countless times before.

“I love you, too,” you said.

There wasn’t a building tall enough, he decided. Your voice resonated in his pulse and as long as his heart kept beating, he would always land on the ground perfectly safe.

“Alright,” you said, interrupting his very productive Staring and Smiling. “Let’s watch the film.”

“Alright.”

He returned to his side of the bed and managed to settle on the very edge of it. He watched the paused screen of your laptop and twiddled his thumbs. It took him half a minute to notice you were watching him.

“What?” he asked then.

“You’re comfortable?” you questioned. “Your grandma is going to be disappointed if you tell her that you watched the film but couldn’t even see the screen.”

He looked away. “To be fair, my grandma would be disappointed if she found out I had you in my room and I was across the bed from you.”

You tried everything to suppress your smile, but it crept onto your face in blatant defiance and chose to stay there.

“Well, what’s stopping you from coming closer?” you asked.

“My heart, I think. It might really stop this time.”

You laughed, and he was forced to acknowledge that he did not need to be right next to you for his heart to stop. All it took was this.

He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to recover from the fact that he could finally do this again—sit on the bed with you, watch films together, listen to you laugh, kiss you, tell you he loved you and hear that you loved him, too. And no one could text him and wake him up from this dream.

“Come here,” you said, raising your arm over the pillows to make space for him by your side.

He was beaming. Neither Sid, nor any voice inside his head could ever taint this moment or take it away from him.

Jungkook scooted closer to you, seemingly determined to make you regret your invitation. He immediately draped a hand over your waist and a leg over yours, his body warm, his touch inescapable. You started the film on your laptop, but doubted, suddenly, if you’d be able to watch anything with him so close.

One of your hands had come to rest on the back of his head, gently teasing the strands of his hair as he lied on his side next to you, almost half of his body thrown over yours. His fingers toyed with the edges of your hoodie, and he kept humming an unrecognisable tune under his breath. You weren’t sure if he even realised it, because every time you glanced at him, especially during your favourite parts of the film, he was diligently watching the screen. The only times he looked up at you was if you stopped playing with his hair.

Then, once the film ended about an hour and a half later, Jungkook pulled back a little to be able to see you in his dark room.

If not for the tapping of his leg against yours, he would have looked like an ancient sculpture with the contours of his face illuminated by the glow of your laptop screen. It felt exceptional, somehow, to be able to witness him like this, and you came to the same realisation as you had in Stockholm while walking down empty streets at night with him, and in Amsterdam, when he lied on the hotel bed next to you. You realised how effortlessly poetic he looked. How otherworldly.

And you realised you loved him far more than words could describe.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

His expression darkened, but he did not move to check who’d texted. He was determined to stay in the dream he was having.

Within seconds, before either of you could say half of a word about the film you’d just watched, his phone buzzed three more times.

Finally, he exhaled. He did not need to look at his phone; you both knew it was Sid.

“I told Minjun about this earlier today,” Jungkook said, reaching over to grab the device from the other side of the bed. “He thinks I should ignore him, but I’m not sure if that’ll work. I, um—I had hoped Sid would forget about the bet and just leave me in peace, but he saw how bothered I was, and that brought him joy. He never forgets anything that brings him joy. And this is something else that—”

“Reply to him,” you said.

“I—hmm?” He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. He appeared even more perplexed by your apparent nonchalance.

“He’s clearly anticipating it,” you explained. “Text him that I’ve already seen those videos. Add a heart.”

Jungkook was not sure what to make of this. Last night, you had tried to stop him from doing the very thing you were now suggesting.

But then he looked down at his phone in his hands—several new notifications about video attachments from unknown numbers were on his screen—and he thought he understood what had changed. He could see how your responses to Sid had been building up to this point. The bet was just one of many instances, a small drop in an endless ocean of shit that Sid came up with and encouraged. All of it had brought you and Jungkook to this moment: with the videos on his phone looming over him.

Sid may not have been the sole cause, but he had reinforced Jungkook’s already prominent reliance on external validation and his subsequent isolation anxiety. He even played a significant role in exacerbating these issues. Jungkook was aware of it, even if he couldn’t help it. And you were aware of it, too.

While he wasn’t sure how deep inside of his mind you could see, Jungkook looked at the determination in your eyes, and he understood. You were on his side, and after everything you’d talked about tonight, you were angry.

He considered your suggestion again.

“Won’t that antagonise him further?” he asked cautiously.

“Sure it will,” you replied simply. “But what else can he do?”

“I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“Well, he wants you to react,” you said. “He’ll continue to spam you with everything he has in his gallery unless you show him that he’s got nothing to win. You said he’s taunting you, he’s threatening to show me the videos. Well, I’ve seen them. He can’t do anything about that now.”

The more Jungkook thought about this, the more his heart rate increased.

“But then,” he said because he’s known Sid for most of his life, “he’ll find a different way to get under my skin.”

You shook your head. You were convinced that the only reason why Sid got so far, why he had such a tight grip on Jungkook’s thoughts, was because Jungkook allowed it.

“He won’t have that much power,” you said, “if you won’t give it to him.”

Jungkook was still hesitant—his habit of blindly following Sid’s lead was very hard to kill—but he unlocked his phone.

“Alright,” he said. “But—okay, I guess he might not believe me if I tell him you already saw the videos. So, what if I—”

“I’ll text him.”

His stomach sank in horror.

“You—no,” he disagreed, panicking as he got up on his knees on the bed. “No, no—w-we don’t even know these numbers he’s using.”

“I don’t need them,” you said, taking out your phone. “We know it’s Sid. We’ll strip him of all his courage by exposing the anonymity he believes he has.”

Jungkook watched you in helpless awe—as though you were doing something truly impressive rather than simply sending a text message. He leaned in closer to be able to get a better view of your phone screen as you selected Sid’s contact (saved as “ASS #1” on your phone—with Jude following as “ASS #2,” of course), and typed: “I already know about the videos, thank you for thinking of me 🖤”

Then, you put your phone away and turned to Jungkook. He was still biting his lip, evidently doubting and regretting at least half of his life.

“There’s a second part, you know,” you said.

“Hm?” He glanced at the black screen of your laptop. “Of the film?”

“Mhmm. He’s escaping from LA this time. Do you want to watch it?”

Jungkook felt a little dizzy. This was over, then. You sent the text, and that was it.

He was forced to accept that even though he had cut his ties with Sid, he could still feel the phantom grips of Sid’s collar around his neck. He wasn’t sure if he would have believed in himself enough to send one text and be done with it. He needed a deeper provocation—like Sid’s descriptions of you before he punched him—or someone actively supporting him all through it—like Minjun and Taehyung, when he gave his Katana up.

And you, he thought. He was thinking of you during all those times.

“I—well, yeah,” he said finally. “Let’s watch it.”

You nodded and returned to your laptop to prepare the second film. You had your back turned to him, so he could not see the slight tremor in your hands. You did not enjoy texting Sid, but he was using you to get back at Jungkook, and you were tired of sitting down and taking it.

“Do you think,” Jungkook said, leaning back against the pillows, “I should get an anaconda tattooed on my stomach?”

Your relief was so strong that you didn’t even realise you had started to laugh. Kurt Russell’s character had a very prominent shirtless scene in the film, and you had been waiting for Jungkook to mention it.

“That was a cobra,” you said. “And no.”

“I think it—wait, why not?” He leaned forward to look at you, offence prominent on his face. “It looked cool on Snake.”

“You’re not cool enough to pull it off,” you replied. He raised his eyebrows, and you shook your head to hide your smile and to emphasise your point. “It just wouldn’t work.”

He nodded slowly, his lips twisted ironically. “Oh, I see, okay. So, what would work for me, then?”

“Maybe a cute little rabbit.”

“A rabb—oh, sure.” Crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, he looked very much like the tattoo you were imagining. “Go ahead and mock me.”

You squinted your eyes. “A rabbit with a lip ring?”

“Mhmm.” He tilted his chin up. “I will get a cobra tattoo out of spite now.”

Snickering, you hit the spacebar on your keyboard and started the film.

“Let’s watch the second part before you decide rabbit or cobra,” you said.

“I’ve already deci—”

Your phone vibrated on the bed, cutting him off. A familiar anxious shiver ran down your spine.

You glanced at him, and just as before, the two of you quickly came to the same conclusion, and the radiant smiles on your faces suddenly clouded again.

Breathing a little heavier, you paused the film after less than a minute and picked up your phone.

There was a new text message from Sid. He had sent you a link to what appeared to be an Instagram post. His message underneath it read, “Okay :) and do you know about this? x”

You had a feeling what was coming even before you clicked the link; your subconsciousness had made the connection before it should have realistically been possible.

The link directed you to Sid’s profile and the picture he’d posted four minutes ago: it was the black-and-white bathtub shot that Maggie had shown you at the bar last night. Sid had captioned it, “so happy for you!”

Jungkook cursed softly on the bed behind you.

You were not sure if you were breathing.

“Fuck,” Jungkook said again. “He—he must have got it from my phone. Maggie—she sent me the picture, and Sid—”

“This piece of fucking shit,” you swore. Your hold on your phone remained firm, despite the device shaking in your frustrated hands. “He’s definitely not just taunting you, he’s targeting us both.”

The Rated Riot fans knew who Sid was, they saw the picture. Jungkook glanced at your screen once more as you clicked on the likes. They were pouring in too quickly, and the total number—which Sid had not made private, of course—could not refresh in time.

Neither you, nor Jungkook said anything. Neither of you drew any obvious conclusions. Simply watching as the image spread online was already enough.

People said a picture was worth a thousand words, and you wondered about the value of this particular one.

You hadn’t even talked to the label; you’d barely talked to each other about your relationship. How would this look for you? What would you do?

“This is what he wants, then?” you asked, staring at your phone. The usernames on the screen blurred together. “For us to break up? He’s that miserable?”

Jungkook felt a knot straining in his stomach, and he could not respond.

“And why do it like this?” you questioned further. “What the fuck is wrong with him, aside from the obvious? What does he gain from any of this?”

Jungkook thought he knew what it was. He could feel it that night when he handed Sid the keys to the Katana. But he hoped—he really fucking hoped—that Sid would get over it. He got his way, after all.

“He won the bet,” Jungkook said, “but I did not lose anything. He can’t stand the thought that I’m—h-he needs me to know that I’m not better than him.”

You groaned. “Fuck—fuck him. Fuck his immature shit, and his fucking ego. Whatever it is that he wants, he’s not going to get it. He’s already done enough.”

You got up from the bed, and Jungkook watched you move around his room with a quiet purpose that he could not decipher.

“What…” he cleared his throat, “do you mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said, and your pacing increased. “But we’ll figure it out. He’s not getting his fucking way.”

Jungkook felt a little foolish as he asked, “you’re not mad?”

You stopped in the middle of the room and looked at the uncertain arch of his brows, the slight pull of his lips. You wondered if you would have had it in you not to strangle Sid if he was in the room with you right now. Really, Jungkook wouldn’t even have to do anything. Maybe dig a hole later.

“At you?” you asked, returning to the bed. “Why would I be mad at you? I—I’m angry in general. But I think Sid would have found some kind of a picture of us and posted it anyway. At least we managed to get on his nerves a little first.”

You sat down beside him, and he ran his fingers through his hair, half-nodding, half-shaking his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he decided. “We might have, uh, actually pushed him into doing this without thinking it through. He didn’t even tag us in the picture, right? And I mean, I know it’s us, but we’re completely in the dark, and—”

He stopped talking when you abruptly jumped up, scrambling to unlock your phone again.

“W-what is it?” he asked, alarmed once more.

You returned to Sid’s profile, clicked on the picture, and refreshed the post.

He hadn’t tagged you.

Jungkook was easily recognisable in the picture if you expected to see him there. However, it was likely that besides Maggie and Luna—who already knew it was you because Maggie had said so—no one else could identify the other person in the bathtub.

“Shit, you’re right,” you said, your heart speeding in your chest. “He didn’t tag us. If I hadn’t texted him, he might have posted the picture later, after thinking it through better, and—but he hadn’t. Fuck, this is—we can fix this. I—oh, we will fix this, and I’ll fucking make sure this is the last game he plays with us.”

Right away, just from the tone of your voice alone, Jungkook knew that Sid had lost. He’d lost and he didn’t even know it yet.

You hadn’t broken up. You were together—seemingly even more together now than you were hours ago, when you’d first entered his room.

Finally, Jungkook exhaled in staggering relief.

The two of you had already won.

chapter title credits: normandie, “blood in the water”

prev ○ next

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hey,

Could you please write college au with Hannibal Lecter?

.⋆｡A New Study｡⋆.

Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

A late-night study session in a tiny dorm could be exactly what you needed to keep around the mysterious classmate from college

Warnings: College!au, fluff, one bed trope kinda, implied smut WC: 819

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Are you paying attention?” You almost scoffed at the question. Amber eyes, though dulled by the dim lighting of your bedside lamp, bore into you with an intensity that made you shiver. His dark brows were scrunched together as he observed your hunched figure from where you were perched on your now unmade bed, papers and open textbooks scattered around you.

‘Like I could concentrate when you look that fucking good.’ Your sleep-deprived mind wanted to say but instead you swallowed the last of your energy drink and cleared your throat. “It’s 3 am, maybe we should call it a night. Don’t think I’m gonna understand the purpose of the fucking pancreas anymore now than if I stayed up the whole night.”

Hannibal licked his lips as he shut his notebook, a strand of black hair falling in front of his left eye. He smoothly brushed it back into place. “You might be right. We should get some rest before the exam.” 

You hummed and shifted so you could face your study buddy. He was wearing his typical black button-up, still perfectly ironed even after almost 12 hours of cramming and a full morning of an anatomy lab. You could only imagine how awful you looked right now, especially compared to the ever-perfect Hannibal Lecter. 

“Thank you for helping me study. ‘and being my eye-candy’ “I don’t think I would’ve gotten this far in med school without you.” He leaned back on your desk chair, his legs spreading as he relaxed into the cheap mesh backing. 

“You’ve done rather well without me and I have no doubt you would’ve been fine without my assistance.” His accent was thicker with the late hour, a fact that made your stomach flutter. While he never explicitly told you where he was from, moments like these gave you little clues and hints on his mysterious past. It was even a miracle you learned his name.

Heat crawled up your neck, blooming across your cheeks as you bashfully looked away. “You only say that cause I always check your citations for you.” A rare laugh escaped his lips, instantly brightening your dorm room with its sound. 

“I’m sure.” A pleasant silence settled between you, one that had you searching for any excuse for him to stay. You cursed yourself for stopping your study for the night, you should’ve powered through just so you could keep ‘tall dark and mysterious’ right next to you all night. 

“It’s rather late.” Hannibal muttered though he made no move to gather his things.

You hummed, then your exhausted brain finally caught up to the hint he had just dropped. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to find the right words. “It is! I mean it’s really late, so the trains and buses have stopped running. And I doubt a cab will come all the way out here. So maybe- maybe you could stay over. If you’re comfortable with that of course! I don’t want to force you or anything.”

“You are very generous. I think I will stay, like you said, taxis don’t come this far out of the city.” He smiled and the breath was knocked from your lungs. 

“We’ll have to share my bed.” You pushed all your papers together in a jumbled up pile, shoving them onto your bedside table. “I hope you don’t mind.” You missed his sly smirk as his gaze briefly fell to your ass.

“I hope you don’t mind, I sleep in my boxers.” Your stomach flipped.

‘As long as you don’t mind me drooling.’

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smirked, his thick fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing more and more of his (of course) perfect chest. You blinked.

“Did I say that out loud?” He rose to his feet, putting you at eye-line with his belt buckle. You swallowed thickly. Dark hair, perfectly trimmed and shaped poked out from where the front of his dress pants sagged and you couldn’t bear to look away, the sleep-deprivation overpowering any shame you would’ve normally had in this moment.

“Even if you didn’t, it was quite obvious what you were thinking. What you’re always thinking. You have delightfully expressive eyes.” His belt slipped through the loops and dropped to the carpeted floor. 

“Uh huh.” His shirt slipped from his broad shoulders.

“It is quite flattering how you look at me when you think I’m not watching.” The button of his pants popped open as he dragged his fly down, leaving you hungry for more. You didn’t even realise you had been slowly leaning forwards until your nose bumped against his stomach. “Just like now, like you want to devour me.”

“But I believe it is distracting you from your studies far too much.” A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze as Hannibal grinned.

“Perhaps we should review some anatomy.”

Slashers Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria @relatednative @starboygf

Hannibal NBC

@andreasworlsboring101 @Azazel.M @hanniballover67 @ambassadortotrilliusprime @cuntpuntcowboy @girl-of-multi-fandoms @originalsourpatch @mandythemint @eyelessjack20 @0alk0msan @sleepysouluniverse

Hannibal Lecter

@Th3ylov3izxy @annhells @coolcat2244 @lovelyy-moonlight @cilliansangel @mewlingoizys @darleneslane @wisteriia222 @nyx2021 @thequeenreaders @eternallyvenus @aoi-targaryen

[inlovewithgreta]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ Kinktober 2024 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Show & Tell - Queen Ravenna x Fem!Reader

Summary: What the Queen wants, she gets.

Warnings: praise kink, power play, fingering (r!receiving), mirror sex, oral sex (r!receiving), pet names, slight choking, bath sex, etc…

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat

small a/n: first off, apologies for the very late update. secondly...y'all I have never seen my adhd be clearly seen so much in a fic before and I have no words to describe my thought process writing this.. but welcome to week two of kinktober, and I hope you enjoy!!

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

It was just another normal day. The same routine was always followed. Wake her up. Make her breakfast. Brush her hair. Draw her a bath. Wash her hair. Get her dressed.

The routine was etched into your head. And you didn't dare stray from it. The Queen was very specific. Only allowing you to be near her. To touch her. To help her.

You were her most trusted ally. Some would even call it friends. You would call it friends. But you were just the handmaiden. Her handmaiden. The help.

It was an internal struggle to not let feelings get in the way when she treated you so well. To everyone else, they feared her wrath. She was vicious, cruel, and demanding. But to you... well she was the complete opposite.

She was gentle. Kind. Playful even. Giving you all of her attention when you were in the room, even if the room was full of important people.

How could you not fall in so deep when she would leave lingering touches, send flirtatious glances, smile sweetly, call you endearing names. She was sweet like honey.

And you were forever stuck.

But today... well something was off.

She smiled more. Teased more. Touched more.

And as you were drawing her bath, you could feel she's almost devouring your body as you bent over to turn the water off, inhaling the sweet yet spicy scent of her bath soaps.

"The bath is ready, my—" Words were lost. All but a jumble of words as your brain went blank when your eyes feasted on the sight before you. Her robe had dropped to the floor, and she gingerly swayed her hips as she stepped down into the large circular tub.

Your eyes fell to her naked body. She always had the most smooth looking milky skin. Curves that drove you mad. Her tits swayed while her buds were erect and swollen. You were entranced.

How could you not stare, when she looked like that? So perfect. So beautiful.

"My Queen—" you cleared your throat, breaking yourself out of your silly trance when her gaze flitted over to you as she sank into the warm water.

The tips of her long golden locks grew just the slightest shade darker as they touched the water, and the darker shade always made her hazel eyes pop even brighter.

But your gaze never faltered, even as she made her way over to you. Cheeks were already rosy, as you couldn't help but blush every time you feasted your eyes on her naked body.

"Thank you, darling. The temperature is perfect as usual," she smiled sweetly. "But there's something missing..." she trailed off, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as you sat on your knees in front of her.

"I-I'm so s-sorry, my Queen!" You stumbled over your words, panic immediately rising in your chest. "I thought I did everything you asked, what's missing?" Your eyebrows knitted in worry.

"You," she calmly stated, voice dripping with deep lust. A deep smirk was plastered on her beautiful face.

"W-what?" You could say you were confused.

"It's missing you, sweetheart." She reiterated, placing a warm, wet hand on your thigh, as you sat there on your knees bewildered. "Join me. You wouldn't want me to be all alone, now would you?"

You were shocked. Frozen in place. Thinking you were imagining this. Dreaming right now. It wouldn't even be the first time you've dreamt of her. Every day and every night she fills your mind.

You were brought back to reality when her hand gripped at your thigh while the other wrapped feverishly across your throat. She squeezed, and squeezed hard, snapping you to look down at her with a vice grip that had you gasping.

"Answer your Queen!" She growled. "Do not make me repeat myself. You either join me or you leave. But if you leave, you are never coming back."

"Okay! O-Okay, I'll join!" You placed your hand gently across the one around your neck, carefully prying her hand away. And to your surprise, she let you.

Slender digits pull at the hem of your nightgown, silently demanding you to take it off.

With shaky hands, and even shakier legs, you stood up. Luckily, you were able to hold yourself together while you fought back the nerves. Her gaze on you was unwavering.

"That's it," She cooed. "Good girl..."

She didn't dare to look away. Not now. Not while you stripped yourself free from the thin layering of clothing wrapped around your body. That body had her holding back a groan.

Hungry eyes roamed. Darting to every single inch of your bare body. And Gods did you look even better than she had imagined. She easily lost herself gazing at your physique.

"You're so beautiful. And to think I have you all to myself. What a lucky woman I am," Ravenna bit her plump lower lip.

And with an outstretched hand, beckoned you closer, which you undoubtedly held without a second of hesitation. Helping you ever so gently step down into the bath to join her.

"I've always been very curious about you. Don't think I haven't noticed your elongated glances, the blush that covers those sweet cheeks when I praise you, the hitch of your breath when you look at me. Specifically when I'm naked."

Digits played with your hair, twirling the dampness between her fingers as she spoke to you with the most enchanting tone.

"Do you find me attractive?" She asked. "Do you want to touch me? I know I've been dreaming about touching you. Learning what makes you come undone, or what even draws those little sounds from you that I know I'll enjoy hearing."

By now, her body was pressed against yours as she stood just a few inches taller than you. You were visibly shaking, and not from the cold air around you. But from her close proximity and the heated words that were coming from her mouth.

"Sweetheart, you're shivering. Let me take care of you, hmm? I know just how to warm you right up..." She lowered her head, letting her hands run a path up and down your arms.

Your head eagerly nodded, brain immediately drawing a blank as words dissipated from your head. That pretty little head that Ravenna loved to not only look at, but to play with.

"Such a sweet and innocent little thing..." she swiped her tongue along her pearly white teeth as she smiled down at you. "I don't want you to think about a thing, okay? Just let your Queen take the reins and make you feel good, would you like that?" The fingers that were twirling your hair, gingerly tucked it away from your face.

"Yes, my Queen... please..." you quickly begged, not even sure what you were even begging for to begin with. Was it for her to take care of you? To touch you? Kiss you? All of the above.

Of course, but it wasn't about to come out of your lips. It was embarrassing how badly you wanted her. And how quick you were to succumb to letting her control you.

How she so easily lifted you to sit on the edge of the tub. Slid between your legs. Let her fingers drag down your dripping wet skin, and toying with your hardened nipples.

You were too far lost in the moment to form a coherent thought or sentence. Too entranced by the way she gingerly traced your nubs before giving them the smallest of pinches that elicited the first of many moans from you.

Her gaze never left yours as she took note of what made you whimper, gasp, and twitch beneath her fingers.

Your eyes screwed shut, losing yourself to her roaming hands. With them closed, you failed to see her sink lower. She could see your dripping wet cunt, and your puffy clit that was just calling out for her touch.

She left one hand to play with a breast while the other slid down. Fingers slid easily across your folds, earning a gasp from you and a hand to fly out to her wrist to stop her movements.

A sharp golden brow raised at your unexpected movement. And Ravenna impatiently waited for the reasoning. One that completely threw her off-guard.

"Be gentle," you whispered. "Please..." You looked down at her with doe-eyes while her pupils were blown. "J-Just this once. Be gentle with me. I don't care what happens after. I just want—" You cut yourself off, knowing what you were about to say next would change everything.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words for me. You're doing so good," she cooed, placing a tender reassuring kiss to your knee.

"I just want.. you to love me. To make love to me. Like you really mean it." Your pointer finger traced small patterns along her collarbone as you spoke.

"Oh, sweet thing.. I do. I always have. And believe me when I say I will only do what you want me to do, alright? Do you trust me?" She asked.

"Yes, of course!" You were baffled that she even had to ask. She had always trusted you, and in turn you had trusted her.

"See? That wasn't so hard to admit, now was it? That's my good girl... Then I think there is nothing left to be said, is there not?"

You shook your head.

"Then sit back, relax, and let your Queen take care of you," she stated sweetly, before eagerly feasting on the dish before her.

Kitten licks and little sucks were placed along every inch of your cunt. She was demanding. Experienced. Already knowing the best way to have you moaning out her name.

Your head lulled back and your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of something you had never noticed before.

A mirror.

A large mirror hung directed over the bath, and the sight before you was something straight out of a porno.

You saw yourself leaning back against your hands, legs spread, tits out, and golden locks moving back and forth as the Queen lapped at your pussy.

"So fucking good... So perfect... Made just for me..." she said between sucks and licks. You had never heard her swear before, let alone giving you praise in the same sentence.

It filled you with immense heat. Turning you on more than you already were.

"S-Say more... keep going!" you gasped.

"Mmm," she moved her mouth away, only to replace them with her fingers. "You like to be praised don't you? You like being told how much of a good girl you are, huh?"

Your head nodded rapidly. Ravenna cackled when she gazed up at you, noticing your mouth agape, head fallen back, but she's staring daggers straight ahead at the mirror.

"Such a naughty little thing too. Watching me play with your pretty little pussy. Do you like what you see? Watching my fingers disappear inside you?"

"Yes! 'M so close!" You choked out. "Keep going! Please don't stop.. don't stop..."

Her experienced digits hit your spongy spot with every thrust, while also spreading her fingers out to stretch you out.

"You're taking me so good. Doing so good for me. Such a precious little thing you are. Are you going to come on your Queen's fingers? Or do you want my mouth?"

"M-Mouth! God— please—" Your legs shook as you held yourself off, not wanting to come just yet. Wanting to elongate this intimate moment.

"So good using your words. Telling me what you want... You just keep looking in the mirror.." she licked her plump lips, before removing her fingers to bring her tongue back to fucking your pussy.

Her hand tossed a leg over her shoulder, giving her a better position to eat you out while your own hand flung to her golden locks, moving them out of her face so you could see every little detail in the mirror.

"Be my good girl and come for me, sweetheart..."

The way her tongue darted out and disappeared into your seeping hole. She groaned at the taste of you, and her nose brushing against your puffy clit was enough for you to go spiraling.

Your hips bucked as you came along her tongue, moan after moan spewing from your lips as she used her mouth to lap at your release.

Her name fell past your lips in a plethora of octaves, feeling yourself shake and spasm around her head as you barely held yourself up.

Once the pleasure turned into more shaking, and the sensation became too much, and overstimulation took over, your thighs closed, and her breathing became restricted.

"I-I can't! 'S too much, my Queen!" You gasped.

Knowing she didn't want to push you too far, she gave your clitoris one last peck before she reluctantly pulled herself away from your intoxicating scent.

Her tongue darted out across her lips, savoring the taste of you along her tongue that she most definitely wanted to taste again.

"You did so good for me.. and you tasted even better than I had imagined..." she admitted, standing back up straight to be face to face with you.

Hands fell to your thighs, rubbing soothing patterns across your skin as your body caught back up to the present. Your eyes were glazed over, but soon returned to their normal beauty.

"There you are.." she stroked your cheek. "Just breathe. Feel good?" She asked, wanting to ensure you were okay.

"Mhmm.." you nodded weakly. "More than good." You smiled at her.

Ravenna laughed at your dazed state, but slightly faltered when your eyes fluttered.

"Okay, sweet girl. Let's dry you up and lay you down to get some rest, hmm? Don't need you passing out on me." She lifted herself out of the tub, and threw on her silk robe, not even caring to dry herself off.

She helped you stand, and used her own towel to dry your aftershocked body. She was quick and careful. Her smile returned when she wiped your sweaty forehead and met your own smile at her taking care of you.

It was supposed to be the other way around. But after today. After the intimacy of it all. She knew from this day forward that she now promised herself to take care of you too.

general masterlist | kinktober | taglist

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 8 - Change~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: Fueled by alcohol and emotion, you muster the courage to confront Alastor about his feelings toward you. During a heated discussion, more truths come to light. The rules you’ve lived by for so long begin to change as you learn more about who you are meant to become. This will be a night to remember.

Themes: The usual angst, this part does contain SMUT, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, Lucifer is a cunning shit, slow burn, and of course 18+

3.9k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 (You're on it!) Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

You freeze standing in front of the door to the radio tower. A million questions run through your mind. A million scenarios play out. A million possibilities of what you were to expect in the next few minutes. It was second nature by now to prepare for the worst. You deliver three loud bangs against the wooden door that echo through the hall. Every logical thought screams for you to leave but the liquor rushing through your veins keeps your feet planted.

No response. There’s not even a shuffle on the other side. Should I knock again? Maybe he went to his room? You raise your hand to knock again when you hear the click of the lock and knob turning. 

The figure before you is almost unrecognizable. Of course it was Alastor but his usually clean pressed suit was replaced with wrinkled slacks and a button down, mostly undone. His hair disheveled in every direction and his eyes had black circles underneath. How does he look even worse than earlier?

“Alastor -” you breathe in shock. 

His eye twitches at your voice, “Leave.” he tries to close the door. 

You slam your palm against the door to keep it open, “No!”. I didn’t make it all the way up here just to leave without a fight. A snarl crosses his face. He steps aside to allow you to enter. Walking in you see an unusual mess of paperwork along with the rest of his suit pieces thrown frivolously around the room. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late night visit dear?” he sneers as he locks the door behind him. And just like that, every conversation you planned on the way up suddenly leaves your mind. Wait shit…no no no not the blank brain.

“I’m waiting.” he growls, stepping closer to you, annoyed by your lack of reason to be there. You turn away from him and blurt out the only things your alcohol fuzzed brain allowed, “He wants me to leave here to go stay with him. He promised he would protect me and keep me safe and I don’t know if I want that and his touch feels so wrong and – and - all I wanted was to run to you.” You wince from how horribly jumbled your words came out.

A warmth runs up your back and you feel Alastor on your neck. The smell of liquor taints his breath. You stand quietly, bracing for his retaliation. “Please….say something.”

He places his hands on your shoulders. Every muscle tenses from his touch as he speaks, “He wants you to stay with him? To cage you within his own walls?” 

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him all your little secrets?” he continues with an unsettlingly calm tone. “Y-yes.”

“Did you enjoy his hands on you? His lips against your skin?”

A lump forms in your throat as you shake your head, “N-No.”

Alastor walks around you to stand at his desk, looking out the tower window. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t leave the hotel without me?” His voice is smug, exuding his usual radio filter.

Is he stupid?

You scowl, frustrated by his sudden cockiness, “That deal was broken when you decided to be a self-serving, ignorant asshole.” 

“Oh my dear, I don’t know how you’ve managed to climb the ranks like you have. Your emotions make you weak, make you sloppy. I have much to teach you.” He says coolly still facing the window.

Oh, okay so he is stupid.

You choose to ignore his comment. “This was a mistake.” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear. Turning on your heel, you head back to the door and reach for the handle, but black tentacles spring up to stop your exit. What the hell!? "Don't do this Alastor." you warn through gritted teeth.

“Come here, please.” There’s suddenly no static, no ringing. You stand your ground and try to leave again only to be pushed back by his dark appendages. “Please.” He repeats, bleak and emotionless. Rolling your eyes with a sigh, you walk across the room and stand next to him, keeping your gaze out the window as well. A familiar comfort washes over you being this close again, but the ache in your chest outweighed any relief. You stand together in silence. Both looking over the city for a long while.

Hesitantly you speak, barely rising above a whisper, “You’re wrong you know. Sure, there’s sadness, depression, anger, selfishness – those weaken the soul. Break you down more than any fall into Hell.” You feel his eyes turn to you, but you stay locked forward, “I would never expect you to understand, but there are some emotions that can empower even the weakest souls. That is how I’ve climbed.”

Rule #4 T̶̷̸̸̸̸̶̵̴̸̶̴̶̷̴̶̸̸̸̵̷̵̵̡̝̙̰̓̌̈̚u̴̶̴̵̷̵̷̸̴̵̴̶̴̵̴̵̷̷̴̸̸̶̶̬͍̯̓̎̈̑ͅř̴̷̷̷̵̴̶̴̸̶̶̶̸̵̴̴̴̷̵̵̴̴̷̲̼̭̱͛̏͠n̶̸̵̶̷̷̴̷̵̷̴̵̷̵̸̶̷̸̴̶̷̴̴̛͓̝͎̱̈́̆̐ ̶̷̷̸̶̷̸̶̷̶̵̴̸̸̴̸̷̷̴̶̵̴̵̦̥͉͔̎͐̾͆ỳ̷̶̵̸̷̵̶̵̵̸̶̶̷̷̷̶̶̸̵̷̶̸̴̥̜̝͆̈̕͜o̴̸̵̶̵̷̶̸̶̴̵̵̴̸̷̶̴̴̶̵̷̴̷͖̯̥̟̍̾̒͠ú̵̵̷̶̴̴̴̷̴̵̶̸̵̵̴̴̶̴̵̷̷̸̵̳̣͔̳̽͊͌r̸̵̴̶̶̶̴̸̸̷̶̵̶̴̸̶̷̵̴̴̶̷̴̬͚̳̜̔̉̍͝ ̸̵̷̶̵̴̵̸̸̶̶̶̸̶̸̶̸̵̸̷̶̷̸̠͚͓͆̈́͌̕͜ẅ̶̵̶̷̸̷̷̸̸̷̷̵̵̸̶̷̴̸̷̷̶̶̴̛̮͓̖́̏̀͜e̴̷̴̴̷̵̴̸̸̵̶̵̶̴̶̸̴̸̸̸̷̷̴͉̮͉͓͑̏̈̐ą̵̶̸̶̴̶̶̵̴̶̴̵̶̴̵̶̵̵̶̸̷̸̶̮͍̱͗͆̚͝k̵̶̶̸̶̴̵̴̷̵̵̴̸̴̴̷̷̸̶̷̸̵̷̺̻̯̜̅̉͒̈́n̷̶̵̴̸̵̷̴̸̴̷̵̵̵̴̶̴̶̶̸̶̶̴̰̫͔̺͑͂̇̍ȩ̴̴̵̶̸̷̸̷̵̷̶̴̵̴̷̷̷̶̸̵̶̶̶̭̹̙͐́̔͘s̸̷̸̶̶̵̷̶̶̶̷̸̶̷̴̵̸̸̵̸̸̸̷̳͔̦̼̐͂̉͌ş̶̶̷̴̵̷̷̸̸̵̷̴̷̸̸̶̸̸̷̸̷̶̵͚̠̺̉͂̒͝ ̵̵̵̷̵̵̶̷̴̵̵̵̷̵̵̷̸̶̸̴̴̶̵̨̟̬̣̇̓̂͝i̷̸̷̵̶̶̴̵̶̶̵̸̸̸̸̵̶̴̸̵̸̵̸̥̦͈͛̾̂͜͝ṉ̷̶̶̸̶̷̸̶̷̷̷̵̶̶̴̸̴̸̵̵̷̶̴̣͓̳͂̉̿̓ț̴̶̴̴̴̷̸̷̶̴̸̶̴̶̷̸̷̷̷̵̵̸̵̨̪̩̍̒́̐ò̵̵̴̶̷̶̷̷̴̶̶̶̶̶̸̷̶̴̶̷̵̵̴͔̭̙̿̈́͌͜ ̶̶̵̸̶̴̷̷̵̸̸̵̶̴̷̵̸̷̴̵̷̵̷̢̹̖͍̊̄̀̓s̵̴̷̸̸̸̵̴̵̶̴̶̷̵̸̸̷̷̸̷̷̵̷̙̮̭̰̀̽͋̓ẗ̷̵̷̷̷̷̶̵̶̴̸̷̷̵̸̵̸̴̵̴̷̴̸͎̗͉̹́̇͌͝r̷̸̷̶̴̶̴̶̸̵̸̷̶̴̶̴̶̷̶̶̵̸̸̮̭̺̘̀̃̍͆ȩ̷̶̴̵̴̴̴̴̷̸̵̴̷̴̷̴̵̷̵̷̸̴̷̭̤͙͒̂̇̈́n̴̴̶̵̷̵̵̷̵̸̷̴̴̵̶̶̵̴̷̴̶̷̵̢͙̪̩̈́͊̔͘g̵̴̶̴̶̷̷̶̵̴̸̷̶̶̴̴̶̷̶̴̷̵̵̝̘̩̪͒͋̕͝t̶̸̸̷̸̵̷̵̵̷̵̵̶̸̸̴̷̸̴̸̵̴̶̳͚̘̪͐͑͝͝h̵̶̸̷̶̴̷̶̸̵̷̵̸̷̴̴̵̴̷̸̵̴̸̡̭̝̤͂́͆̿

He holds his gaze as another long silence passes. In the past his stare always felt heavy, as if he was trying to find every flaw or insecurity you could possibly have but tonight, he didn’t burn into you. Tonight he was soft and present.

“I think I’m beginning to understand such sentiments.” He mutters. “Look at me.”

You shake your head and look to the floor. “I can’t play this game with you. It was never just about power to me. I need you to realize that.” The last few days you cried so much you didn’t think you could produce any more tears, yet here they are again, stinging just behind your eyes.

“I had every intention of keeping us nothing more than mutual partners, to only feed from the power we could create. I did what was necessary to keep you close.” Alastor gently takes your hand, intertwining your fingers in his, “But I never expected — I - I didn’t think — This is not a game to me.” 

He doesn’t get it. Your hand jerks away from his. “You have a shitty way of making me believe otherwise.”

A frustrated grunt leaves his chest, “I knew the moment Lucifer met you and felt the power you held, he’d try to take you away. His reaction from seeing us together made it all the more obvious. As much as I hate to admit it, that insolent King is far from stupid.”

“You actually think he feels threatened by me? Or you?” You shake your head in disbelief, “It’s Lucifer, THE fallen angel…the fuckin’ devil himself! He doesn’t need anything. Why would he bother being so open, s-so vulnerable? The man practically crumbled to me. He even compared me to…to Lillith.” “How bold of him.” He grumbles unamused, “Do you really think he would say such things to someone he didn’t know could – “

“He kissed me, Alastor. He kissed me like - ” 

“Like he loved you?” he scoffs at the statement. You watch his body grow with rage, “You want to talk about playing games? Are you so blind to not see he’s the one playing you!? You’re weaker than I thought falling so easily to someone like him.”

Hot tears flow down your face, though you can’t decide if it’s out of anger or hurt. “I’m not weak!” 

“Then start acting like it!” His eyes begin to flicker black and red as static floods the air, continuing to grow into his demon form. 

“It’s not weak to want to be wanted by someone who doesn’t have intentions to….just use me!” You find yourself screaming at the demon, flames starting to surround you. Why can’t he see past his own selfishness…

Alastor goes quiet as he comes down from his form. He beams an arrogant smile at your tear-soaked face, “Silly girl, he wishes to keep you in his castle. To keep you as his pet. He might not need your power but if you think he actually wants you without some ulterior motive, you’re naive and foolish.”

“FUCK YOU!” Having had enough berating, you turn away to leave but his large claw catches your arm to pull you back into him. “What Alastor!? What else could you possibly have to say to me!?”

He leans against his desk and pulls your body between his legs, “Do you not remember what I said the first time we made a deal? Together, you and I could become more powerful than the King of Hell himself.” You tilt your head, “Okay and?”

“Use your head for once! What all powerful being would be willing to risk the possibility of being overthrown? Angel or not, he isn’t invincible. He can’t hide his fear of the potential we possess.” 

The lightbulb finally fires in your brain. Of course... 

Rule #1 B̸̶̵̵̷̴̴̷̶̶̶̨͎̈́ę̴̶̸̷̵̷̸̵̸̴̴̜͊̋ ̸̷̴̸̶̷̵̷̴̴̴͔͙̈́͠o̸̸̸̵̸̷̵̷̶̸̸̲̟̐̀p̶̸̸̴̸̴̵̵̵̴̵͍̞̒̂e̵̴̴̵̸̶̸̸̷̵̶̩̊̑ͅň̸̴̸̶̶̵̴̴̴̶̶̥̕�� ̴̴̸̴̵̷̷̸̷̶̴͇͙̐̎t̸̷̸̴̵̶̷̴̴̴̷̡̝̂͆o̵̵̴̴̴̷̴̶̸̶̸͚͉̍͌ ̵̶̸̷̶̵̵̸̶̷̸̛̱̗͝t̸̵̷̷̸̶̴̴̷̴̸̗͎̎͑r̸̵̴̴̶̶̵̸̴̴̷͙̣̉̑ǘ̵̴̶̸̸̴̸̶̷̷̸̯̦̓s̸̸̶̶̵̸̸̶̵̸̴̩̰̍̿ṯ̷̶̴̶̸̵̷̴̴̴̴̛́ͅ,̸̷̸̶̸̵̵̴̴̶̵̡͍̈͑ ̶̴̷̴̸̷̵̵̴̴̴̣̤̾͝b̸̵̶̵̵̸̵̶̴̴̶̛̜̹̀u̵̵̶̵̷̷̸̶̸̷̵͈͈̎́t̵̸̷̴̶̵̵̶̷̶̵̡̞̔̚ ̴̸̴̷̷̷̶̷̵̷̶̞̯̋̚n̴̶̵̷̴̷̷̴̶̴̶̳̮̎̈ȩ̵̶̴̵̷̴̵̸̶̵̴͍̀̑v̵̷̸̸̸̵̴̵̷̶̴͔͗͝ͅe̴̷̷̵̵̵̵̸̸̵̵̡̤͋̀ř̵̴̸̵̷̵̸̷̵̶̴͈͘ͅ ̴̸̷̶̵̷̶̸̵̶̵͖̟̔̃d̷̷̵̷̴̶̸̷̶̵̵͈̘͐̔o̷̸̵̷̴̵̵̵̶̸̵͕̙͊̌ ̴̴̴̵̷̷̸̶̵̷̴̜̜̅͘s̷̴̴̵̶̵̶̴̵̸̷̬͈̏̍ò̴̵̴̸̸̶̸̶̶̴̶̫̠̀ ̴̴̷̴̶̸̷̴̵̸̶̯̼̃̓b̷̷̴̶̶̷̶̴̶̵̶̘̹̐̈́l̷̵̸̸̵̵̴̸̷̵̴͎̫͂̉i̷̷̸̶̸̶̵̵̶̵̷̤̪͗̾n̶̴̷̷̷̶̵̶̵̸̶͉̺͑̚d̵̶̵̵̵̴̷̷̸̵̴̖̠͐̉l̶̷̸̸̷̸̴̵̴̵̴̖̘͆͌y̶̶̵̷̵̴̴̴̸̸̵͇̆̾͜

You hang your head in embarrassment by the horrible realization. If you could shrink down to the size of an ant, you would. I should have known better… “He wants to keep us apart so we have no way of rising to power…he wants control. He knows what’s possible, doesn’t he?”

Alastor stays silent but his eyes give you all the answers you need.

You bury your face into his chest, furious with yourself for not seeing it sooner. “I’m so stupid. He got me to trust him and…I told him so much…I showed him…shit…he knows.” Alastor wraps his arms around you tightly. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh.

“You’re not stupid. I should have told you the morning of his visit instead of -.”

“No - I allowed my own desires to cloud my voice of reason. I want to help…to protect those who can’t do so for themselves. But fuck, for once it was nice to feel wanted for who I was, not just what I could do…” you admit sheepishly, surprising even yourself with your words.

Alastor’s hands affectionately cradle your face. His thumbs softly wipe the tears that remained on your cheeks, “I want you. My body aches and pulls to you. I want to be powerful with you. I know I’ve made you feel like you were nothing to me when in reality, that couldn’t be farthest from the truth.”

“Then say it.” You say plainly as your eyes dart between his. He cocks his head trying to understand your demand. “Tell me the truth. Look at me, swear on your mother’s soul, and tell me the truth.” You needed to hear it from him. You need the words to leave his mouth.

He lets go of you and stands up straight, “Husker talked with you, didn’t he?” 

Uhg Husk isn’t going to hear the end of this…

Frustration bubbles in your chest, “Don’t pin this on him! You just said -” 

His lips press into yours forcefully and you melt into his arms. You’ve craved this feeling for so long that you didn’t dare reject him. Static begins to pulse through your body like never before. Opening your eyes, you see pink and green light surrounding you both. My power has never radiated like this with him. It only should only happen when — oooh fuck I get it now…  

Rule #2 Ḑ̸̵̵̴̴̴̴̵̷̷̸̴̷̴̸̴̴̷̷̵̷̫̩̼̃͐̃͐͜͝o̵̴̶̷̸̶̶̴̸̶̵̷̴̶̷̸̷̴̷̴̷̞̗̣̟̖͐͂̽̊͐n̴̶̶̷̸̸̴̵̷̵̶̵̸̵̷̴̶̸̴̴̸̻̤͍̺͋͐̀̈́̂ͅ'̵̴̵̶̴̵̵̸̶̸̸̷̷̶̵̷̵̵̷̴̶̢̫͖̱͑̆̽̌́͜t̶̴̴̶̴̶̸̶̴̶̸̵̴̴̴̴̷̶̵̵̷͕̼̦̠̘̽́̾̄̈́ ̷̷̶̵̸̶̵̶̷̸̸̵̴̸̸̵̸̷̶̶̶͉̹̰͙͔̈́̂͐̆̌b̶̵̴̸̷̸̷̴̷̴̵̸̴̵̶̴̸̷̸̵̸̲̝̖̦͚͗̿͊̎̌ȩ̸̵̴̶̵̸̵̴̴̷̸̴̶̵̴̷̸̷̵̴̵̩̦͎͇̃͌͐̔̕ ̷̶̶̸̸̶̶̴̶̵̷̸̴̸̶̶̶̷̷̸̶̹̬̙͎̲̉̈͆͆̏a̸̴̶̶̴̵̸̷̶̴̷̴̴̸̷̷̵̶̷̷̶̙̣̹͍͙̒̏́͘͝f̸̴̷̶̸̴̶̸̴̴̶̶̴̶̶̷̶̶̸̸̶̨̡̧̻̯̐̓̐͑̈r̴̵̶̴̸̷̵̸̸̵̸̸̷̶̷̷̵̶̸̷̴̭̩̪̞̻̈́̄̆̔̎ả̶̸̵̵̶̶̴̸̸̴̷̶̶̷̶̶̴̵̵̶̶̢̡̦̖̠̾͑̾͂i̷̶̶̷̸̶̵̵̶̴̸̴̴̴̸̴̷̸̸̷̵̪̩̜̗̦͂̔̂̓͝d̸̴̸̸̸̸̶̵̴̸̶̴̵̸̶̷̴̶̶̶̵̰͚̪̺̥̒́̏̍͠ ̵̶̶̸̵̶̴̴̶̶̸̷̸̵̸̴̵̸̶̸̶̧̰̠͎̪͋̋̒͋̿ẗ̸̵̸̵̸̸̴̸̵̷̶̷̷̶̸̸̷̴̷̸̸̳͇͕̜̟̒̓͌̈ȍ̸̵̶̷̴̸̸̸̷̸̴̵̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̶̷̖̳͔̭̖̄͊̐̆ ̷̸̶̴̷̶̵̸̵̶̷̵̴̶̸̶̸̴̸̴̷̲͎̩̣͂͛̂͜͝͝ṣ̴̶̴̸̸̴̴̶̴̶̵̶̶̴̵̵̴̶̵̷̵̨̠͔̮̑͂͗̑̔ḫ̶̵̶̶̵̴̴̶̸̵̶̴̸̷̵̶̴̷̶̵̶̡̨̻̼̿͛̈́͌͘ö̶̶̵̴̶̸̵̴̴̴̴̷̷̴̷̷̶̴̴̶̴̞̲͙͉̬́̈́́̓͝w̸̴̶̶̶̵̸̸̷̶̵̴̴̷̶̴̶̵̴̶̶̝͎͓̼̤͐̆͊͊͐ ̴̶̶̷̶̶̴̴̶̷̸̴̷̸̶̵̷̵̵̶̵̡̻̪͍̙̈́̇͗̂͐y̶̸̶̵̸̴̸̶̴̷̶̵̸̷̶̷̶̸̸̴̵̦͕̲̱̥̾͗͊̋͠o̴̵̵̴̴̵̷̴̸̶̸̵̶̷̷̴̴̸̷̶̷͈̻͚͙̔̎̀̎̕͜u̶̴̸̶̷̶̵̵̴̸̶̸̵̴̷̸̶̵̷̸̵̻̥̩̭̿͗̐͆͌ͅr̸̷̴̵̶̵̸̶̴̷̶̵̴̴̵̵̸̶̶̷̵͖̙̼̝̝̃̽̊͗́ ̴̷̶̵̸̴̸̵̵̷̸̶̴̵̵̵̶̶̶̵̷̧̥̥̫̭͑̈̆̔̈p̵̴̴̸̶̶̸̴̶̴̸̷̸̶̵̷̸̶̴̶̷̺̰̪͎͓͋̆̄͆̕o̷̶̴̸̸̶̵̸̴̵̸̷̸̴̵̴̴̵̵̵̸̹̟͔̱͉͆̀̐́̈́w̶̸̵̵̵̸̶̷̸̵̴̸̶̴̷̴̸̷̶̵̸̼̣̘̖͐͋͑̂͝ͅȅ̷̷̵̶̶̵̶̵̶̷̴̸̷̵̵̷̸̷̸̶̵̛̼̩̭͓̍̅͊ͅr̵̸̸̶̶̷̶̶̸̶̸̸̸̷̶̴̸̶̴̴̷̨̻̹̪̽͛͒͝͝ͅ

He breaks the kiss to rest his head against yours, panting from the sudden passion, “I swear…on my darling mother’s soul…I love you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

Alastor’s face twists with a mixture of regret and embarrassment, “I’ve made it a point to be ruthless and unwavering. I thought showing anything more would label me weak. When I returned to the city feeling such foreign urges…I thought I was going mad.” You smirk trying to hide the pure joy rushing over you, “Is that Alastor or the copious amount of liquor talking?”

“Probably both.” He chuckles through a smile you swear could split his face in two if it went any wider. Your hand runs under his open shirt and across his chest playfully, “Oooo what other confessions can I get out of the great Radio Demon?” 

Alastor huffs at your sudden confidence, “Oh - ho darling don't push your luck. Terrible of you to take such advantage of me in this state.” Your lips curl into a half-hearted smile, but doubt continues to flood your thoughts, “You say you love me - but your words have failed me before.” 

He grimaces, “After seeing you with…him…the pain of possibly losing you consumed my mind. I went to see a good friend of mine who was able to put things in a new light. I believe the words she used were, ‘Words are cheap, but actions, they speak for the truth’.”

Time to test my luck as usual. “Then show me.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead and trails down your face, stopping at your lips. “Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly. You nod and push against him with enough force he has to brace himself against the desk. He swiftly returns your passion and draws you flush with his body. As he deepens the kiss with his tongue, you feel him spin and lift you up on his desk - slotting himself between your thighs.

Your hands dance up his body, impulsively undoing the last few buttons of his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders. You break the embrace as you feel the scars that riddled his body. “How -?”

“I didn’t become who I am without some loss, my dear. Does it repulse you?”

“Never.” Entranced, you ghost across each mark making him shiver. Desire crashes over you seeing his body react to your touch. Your fingers continue to flutter over his skin to the small tufts of red hair that trail down his stomach. Stopping at his belt, you lift your eyes to his, “This isn’t like before Alastor. I can’t handle any more disappearing or deals or secrets. Are you ready for that? Are you certain I am what you want?” Your words seem to plead rather than question him.

He pulls your hips into him as he lays you back on the desk, trailing kisses down your jaw. “You’re all I’ve wanted for a long time darling.” he purs into your ear, voice dripping with lust. Is this really happening?

You let out a yelp when his claw abruptly slices down your shirt. He’s too impatient, too deprived of you. His eagerness continues to fuel the heat growing between your thighs. He chuckles as the buttons of your shirt scatter across the room, “Nothing a trip to the tailor can’t fix.” 

He begins to pepper kisses across your collarbone, down your sternum, and over your stomach, pulling soft whimpers from your lips. A devious smile crosses his face as he unbuttons your pants and slides them off your legs along with your underwear. He stands himself between your thighs once more, “Utter perfection.” he breathes. The sudden sound of his belt being undone and ripped from its loops sends goosebumps across every inch of your exposed skin. Last chance to - no…I want this….we need this…

You feel his hard warmth start to slide between your folds. He groans from contact, “It seems you’re already begging for me, darling.” Propping yourself on your elbows, you look down at his length as he teases your entrance. Alastor notices your worried expression, “Take a deep breath and relax, I’ll go slow.” He slowly begins to push himself into you and his mouth falls on yours, begging to catch every moan of pain and pleasure.

Your walls clench from the sudden but welcomed sting. He stills to allow your body to adjust to his size. “Too much?” he asks. You shake your head, “No, keep going.” He continues to push into you, hissing into your neck as he bottoms out against you. You can’t remember your previous experiences from when you were alive, but you were positive you’ve never felt this level of fullness or satisfaction.

You wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands into his hair, giving a firm pull at the base of his antlers. “F-f-fuck –“ he mouths while rolling against you, craving friction but not daring to push until he feels your body relax. You buck into him as a silent plea to keep going. He begins to pull out at an agonizingly slow pace, groaning gravelly praises each time he drives back inside, “That’s it.” “Deep breaths cher.” “Give in to me.” He was completely controlled, each stroke deep and intentional.

“Al –“ You cover your face to muffle your moans, surprised by how dazed you’re already becoming. Each thrust you feel him hitting a spot that sends mind numbing electricity through your body. He moves your hands away from your face, “No hiding - it’s just you and me.” His voice is laced with a sweetness you’ve never heard from the demon before.

It isn’t long before the tension in your lower stomach builds. He draws you up against him and grips one of your thighs, putting you in a position that allows his pelvis to grind into you as he quickens his pace. Your fingers dig into his arms to steady yourself. 

You throw your head back with a guttural moan, your noises are pure music to Alastor’s ears. He can’t resist breathing sweet words into your neck, repeating how good you look like this, completely filled by him, no one on your lips but him. In between his admirations, he runs his teeth across your throat, nipping and sucking little marks to claim you that much more. 

His gentle whines across your skin bring you that much closer to release, “Alastor…please…more…”. Any self-control he was holding onto snaps at the sound of your pathetic pleas. Feeling him pull out completely, you protest under your breath. He turns you around and bends your body over the cold wood of the desk. A dark groan rumbles in his chest as his hand slides up your spine and his fingers thread into your hair. He pulls you back gently to lean into your ear, “You want me to show you how much I love you, cher?”

Without waiting for an answer he jerks your head back to crash into you from behind, filling the room with an unholy mixture of your cries and the sound of your bodies connecting over and over. Your back arches from his grip pulling you deeper into his thrusts. Any control he had with you before is long gone. The demon loses himself as your walls tightly massage around him and your sweet sounds feed his desire. 

His free hand wraps around your body. You cry out again feeling his fingers start to massage your aching bud. Your nails dig into his desk and tears begin to stream down your face from the intense stimulation. “D-don’t…p-please…I’m.. – ” you pant nearing the edge of your high. Looking back, you watch his antlers grow.

“Say…my name….a-a-AGAIN!” he stammers between breathy grunts. Unable to hold back any longer, you bow back into him, feeling the tension in your stomach finally snap, “Oh God, Alastor!” you gasp. Every muscle trembles beneath him as your body welcomes the long awaited release.

He plunges deeply once more to feel you spasm around him. “There’s no God here, cher.” He growls as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making his name fall from your lips once more. Hearing you scream his name pushes him over into his own resolve. His body stutters, filling you with every drop of him. You bask in his whimpers as he rides out the high.

Your body collapses on the desk. Alastor lies on top of you kissing every bit of skin he can reach. You hiss as he runs his tongue across the fresh blood trickling from your shoulder, “No one will have the pleasure of tasting you again.” His chest rumbles against you. He continues to drag his lips across you, remaining inside to take in your body just a little longer. For the first time in weeks your mind is blank, entirely present in the moment, drinking in every second of his body being one with yours.

“Stay still dear.” he commands, grudgingly pulling out and away from you. The cold air from his sudden absence makes you shudder. You let out a breathy giggle at the feeling of his warmth trickling out and down your legs. Alastor returns and starts to run a cloth between your thighs, “I admit, I quite enjoy you like this.” 

“What? Vulnerable and naked?” you tease.

“Unequivocally mine.”

You turn around to wrap your arms around his neck. “Say it one more time for me?” He rolls his eyes but happily obliges to the request, “I’ll say it a million times if I need to - I love you.”

“I love you, Alastor.” Rule #3 K̸̷̵̴̸̸̸̵̵̵̵̸̷̶̶̵̷̴̶̶̴̫̩̻̗͚̇͆͑̈́̀e̴̶̷̷̶̷̷̶̵̵̶̵̵̶̶̶̵̴̷̷̷͙̪͔̫̣͛͐̎̀͝e̵̸̷̵̷̴̸̸̸̷̷̷̴̵̶̴̷̴̵̵̴̢͈̬͍̺͗̌̒̆͝p̵̷̷̴̷̸̶̶̵̵̷̷̴̶̶̷̷̵̷̸̸̧̛̦̤̼͚͋̅̄͝ ̷̸̸̸̴̵̵̷̵̶̷̴̵̷̸̷̵̵̴̴̸̺̳͚̩̤́̓̈́̇̌t̷̶̸̴̶̴̵̴̷̸̴̸̸̷̸̸̸̶̶̶̵̤̣͙̫̹̃̉̌͂̂h̴̸̸̶̷̷̶̶̵̸̷̶̵̵̵̴̶̴̷̶̴̡̘̯͖̝́̽̌̌̏ȏ̵̴̸̷̷̷̵̴̴̶̵̸̸̷̸̶̵̶̶̸̸̱͍̞̉̓̚͜͝ͅs̶̵̴̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̷̶̵̴̷̶̷̷̴̵̴̢͙̹̯̗̾̒̃͒͝ȩ̶̴̷̵̴̸̴̸̶̴̵̵̵̵̸̵̷̵̵̴̵̧͇͙̠́̑̈́̊̄ ̷̵̵̸̵̷̷̶̶̶̷̸̸̴̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̧̦̘̖̺̔̀̂̌͛y̸̵̶̶̴̶̸̴̸̴̶̸̷̶̴̶̸̸̸̴̸̢̘̼̗̰̌͒̕͝͠o̸̴̶̸̵̶̸̷̴̸̶̶̷̴̸̶̷̴̷̷̶̡̨̖̭̠̊̾̆̓͗ų̵̶̸̵̷̶̴̸̵̵̷̴̵̶̶̴̷̶̷̶̷̙͕͚̰̀͆̔̉̌ ̴̸̷̶̴̷̴̶̴̶̶̵̸̸̸̵̸̴̴̴̴̤͍̤͖͎̐̐̑͆̕l̶̸̵̶̶̷̷̸̷̵̶̴̶̴̶̵̸̶̷̴̶̡͇̦̩̰͋̈͊̈́́o̸̶̸̷̶̶̸̴̴̶̴̶̷̶̵̸̴̶̸̸̶͕̜̟̥̼͐̐̀̈́̐v̸̶̴̸̸̷̶̷̷̵̵̷̴̶̸̷̸̶̵̴̴̟͙̩̝̭̒̒̋͘̕e̵̶̵̶̴̸̴̶̶̷̵̷̸̶̶̴̵̶̷̴̵̺̬̩͔̺̓̾͆̕̚ ̶̷̶̷̴̶̶̸̷̷̴̴̷̴̷̶̴̵̸̸̴̨͈̣̩͕̉͋̎̿̀c̶̸̶̵̵̴̴̴̷̵̷̶̷̴̴̴̴̷̸̵̵͓̳̘͓̬͐̐̈́̌̈́l̸̶̸̷̴̷̴̷̸̵̷̷̵̴̷̷̷̵̸̵̴̢͎͍̻̈́́͊̚͜͠o̸̵̷̸̷̷̵̸̴̴̶̸̷̷̴̶̸̷̷̸̶͇̻̣̯̖̐̿̕̚͝s̴̷̸̷̷̴̵̴̴̶̵̷̵̸̴̴̵̶̷̵̷̛̠͍̳̥͔͆̐̃͝ë̶̵̴̷̵̵̷̷̸̸̸̴̶̴̶̸̵̴̷̴̷͈̳̙̟̥́͑̔͘͠

Green and pink light reflects off the walls once more as you kiss him, bodies vibrating from the connection. He grins against your mouth, “Your power grows darling. You’ll need to learn to control it if we are going to keep this up.” 

You groan at the thought, “I’ll add it to my list of things to do tomorrow.”

Alastor nods and walks over to a chair where a few of his shirts were laid over the arm, pulling one on himself and tossing you another, “This should suffice long enough to make it back to our room.” You slide the shirt over your shoulders and let out a sigh of relief seeing it was long enough to hit mid-thigh. Last thing I need is someone in the hall seeing more than they want.

Without thought you inhale the intoxicating smell of his cologne that still lingered on the material. Every worry you had could wait until tomorrow. Right now, you selfishly only wanted to live and breathe Alastor. You begin to button the shirt but freeze at the realization of what he said, “I’m sorry, did you say our room?”

A hand presses against your lower back, “You don’t actually expect me to let you too far from me again, do you cher? Your things have already been moved. Now, shall we?” He beams as he picks you up, carefully minding that you remain covered. Like second nature your arms slink around his neck, “I can walk you know, don’t give yourself that much credit over what just happened.”

He starts to make his way out of the tower, “I wouldn’t be so smug if I were you dear. I’ve been without you, craving you, for a long time. This is to save your energy for when we make it back to the room.” His tone was playful, but you could hear the underlying threat.

Two can play that game. You mischievously start to gently bite and kiss his neck while whispering taunts in his ear, “Looks like the scary Radio Demon has lost his self-control.”

That comment combined with a solid bite to his neck is his breaking point.  Before you make it to the door the world spins out and back in. You feel yourself fall back forcefully against the silk sheets of his bed. Looking down you see Alastor hungrily climbing over you with feral eyes. He growls through a toothy smile, “Want to say that again love?”

I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight. 

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @phamtasic @ohnah2022 @eris-norwega @kaylopolis @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @laudrawin @qu1cks1lversb1tch @diffidentphantom

[moonjxsung]

hello dear starlightt

aa your fwb chan drabbles have been stuck in my head and im thinking of roommate fwb! channie? personally im an ot8 but i have a big soft spot for channie omg 😭😭

im thinking roommate fwb! channie who has the biggest crush on you but once you start having a casual physical relationship he starts thinking you only want him for the sex and as a friend

roommate fwb! channie who used to listen to you fingering yourself late at night after coming back stressed from work through the thin walls

roommate fwb! channie who would comfort and cuddle you when youre upset and have weekly movie nights, slowly rubbing circles on your stomach and holding tight at your waist as you sit in between his legs right about to fall asleep

roommate fwb! channie who would slowly grow hard as you accidentally rub your ass up against him trying to get comfortable and he slowly starts rutting against you desperately which then turns into heated makeout sessions with him continuously mumbling about fucking his babies into you, cursing that youre taking him so well, your pussy feels so perfect

roommate fwb! channie who presses against you so deep you can feel his tip harshly kissing your cervix and you feel so 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭.

slow wet sloppy kisses in his car after an innocent late night drive he suggested for fun

hands traveling up your shirt and reaching your tits, and as he grabs a handful you moan into his ear and only grind onto him harder, him wincing in pleasure

channie would almost never let himself cum before you do at LEAST two times, and he loves teasing you in foreplay as he fingers you open and tastes you on his mouth before pushing himself in

would never want those night to end, and he would 100% send those "u up?" text at like 2 am

would wash you up and give you the most sweetest aftercare, stroking your hair and humming a little lullaby as he cuddles you to sleep

would sometimes have you cockwarm him as you sleep, so the next morning you would wake up to the feeling of him pushing slowly in and out of you, giving you the most blissful moments of pleasure as soon as you open your eyes

channie would just be there on top of you thrusting at a steady pace, holding back his moans and whimpers to not wake you up, sweat dripping down and decorating his face and shoulders as the morning sun hits and covers his gorgeous body, his abs on full display

when he sees that youre up, he would give the most sweetest "good morning angel" in his deep morning voice with the most innocent smile as hes still fucking you into the mattress

maybe you would come home drunk one day and confess your feelings for him, words jumbled in a bunch and youre so sure he doesnt like you in that sort of sense, so you offer to pack up and find a new place if it makes him uncomfortable, apologizing continuously

channie running up to hug you as you sob into his shoulder, him whispering sweet comforting words into your ear, as he bridal carries you to the bathroom to help you wash up and fucks all those negative thoughts out of you in your bed, telling you over and over again about how much he loves you

you two would wake up and youd be so embarrassed remembering everything from the night before, not even sure if it actually happened or your delusional brain is making everything up

until he confirms its all real by kissing your soft plump lips and whispering good morning and that he loves you, still half asleep

after that its just dates after dates and more experimenting in the bedroom as you expand your relationship even further

channie would come home from work with a bouquet of flowers that reminded him of you, blushing as he hands it to you

waltz dancing to music and laughing as you stumble over each other feet late at night, helping him write lyrics until early in the morning, cooking (and failing!) with each other, dancing and kissing in the rain when the weather crashes your date, cuddling each other as you fall asleep into each others arms.

aa he would just be so perfect <33

im sorry for ranting :(( 💖💖

as always, your beloved ☘ annonie

OH MY GOD????? FWB CHANNIE ENTHUSIASTS READ THIS LIKE RNNN 🏃‍♀️ I am screaming oh my god thank you for sharing this I need him so bad 😭 do not ever apologize for ranting in my inbox like this I literally love this sm your thoughts are always welcome here

[dadsbongos]

Heyyy (ノ^∇^)

Idk if you write for him, since I barely see any other writers write for him😔, but would you be willing to write for Toshiro? 🙏🙏🙏

I love that man soooooo so fucking much but there barely any concent of him where it's not about his fight with Laios and it's frustrating ngl-😭😭

A thought that has been in my brain for quite some time now, is like— sorta like an arrange marriage type of situation where they started off awkward but then one of them (in this case, Toshiro) started to have fallen head over heels for his spouse who has been secretly falling for him first

Just the thought of him, barely touching his spouse on their wedding night because they just got married to some stranger (probably, or maybe they knew each other but not necessarily close?) to then sharing a passionate night with them❤❤

I'm feral somebody hold me down-

i wanted this to be longer but lately i've been... funky so its some bland honeymoon shiz before i scare the hoes with toshiro bugfucker truthery

1.2 k words / warnings - reader has a pussoi, honestly this is more fluff than explicit but smut is the setting frame, not super proofread ~~~

“Do you…” Toshiro clears his throat, “Would you want to share a bed tonight?”

You paused, blinking up at your new husband stupidly before jerking your head to the side, “I’m not sure…”

“I’ll make a separate place for myself again, then.”

“Well, no, that’s not necessary…”

Black brows furrow down at you, “I’m a little confused.”

“As am I,” you confess, eyes tracing the hardwood floors with a soft sigh, “I’m just concerned with what you’ll think of me after I’m honest with myself.”

For a long while, Toshiro is perfectly still. Then his heart squeezes, blinking at you numbly, “I’m sorry?”

“What if I humiliate myself? Or I’m too eager?”

Oh? 

“How could you be too eager?”

Gaze stuttering from his framing baby hairs to his gentle eyes to his slim waist to his legs. Tender flesh obscured by a jade yogi. Black hair cascades over his shoulders, shining beneath flickering candle light. Cheeks flush and lashes fluttery.

“You couldn’t imagine.”

Oh! 

Toshiro smothers his shock with a hand over his rising mouth, looking away from you, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Toshiro clenches his eyes, even the wrinkle in his forehead captivates you, “I didn’t want to scare or intimidate you by seeming too eager.”

Scandalized, you gasp, “Toshiro!”

“I know… I’m sorry if that’s unsettling to hear.”

“But is it true? You aren’t saying this for flattery’s sake, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re both eager.”

“We are,” he confirms, clearing his throat before gesturing to the futon you’re designated to share, “Do you want to share the bed tonight?”

Just asking twice makes him feel uncomfortable, though he supposes the entirety of your engagement has been uncomfortable.

(“I insisted to my father, I’d find my own partner…”

“Sorry, if I’m disappointing.”

“No, no. I just… would have wished to not drag people into our lives.”)

You’re a bit more outgoing than himself. He prefers you to take charge, but suddenly you’re shy. Clamming up and awkwardly shuffling onto the mat. Legs pin straight and boring holes through his skull with a wide-eyed stare.

“Would you mind showing me?” he murmurs, “I feel you’re more… experienced in these matters.”

“Does it bother you that I am?” you frown suddenly, “Maizuru seems to hate it…”

If he hadn’t rushed to tuck his head down, you would’ve caught his vicious eye roll, “Maizuru doesn’t know what I want.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. I find you just as pretty.”

Thankfully, his stammered and jumbled admission appears to soothe the tension in your shoulders. Rocking forward onto your knees before apprehensively tugging open the part of his thick robing.

“You might be the pretty one in this marriage.”

He’s forced to choke on his retort as you’re kissing up his freshly exposed thigh. Wandering hands shirking the thick material off his shoulders and combing through silky hair. Uneven pants lace the air, chapped lips parting to wheeze your name. Warm palms cup your cheeks, fingers toying around the bone of your jaw and thumbs rubbing beneath your lashes.

Coaxing you onto your feet, Toshiro cups your cheeks fully and he’s muttering. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to whisper sweet romantics for you, and you’re tempted to ask for clarity when he abruptly snaps you onto your back.

Nose digging into the junction of your neck as Toshiro folds your legs to cradle his waist. 

“Can I speak plainly?” he requests, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs before scaling up your tummy to peel off your own sleepwear.

Jolting shoulders and arms up to make the disrobing easier, you nod rapidly, “Of course!”

Still, his eyes are closed to avoid catching sight of your potential horror or displeasure, “There are many things I want for us to do, but tonight I’d like to stay this way.”

“Look at me,” you pet through his hair, kissing the corners of his downturned mouth and the bunched skin between his eyebrows, “Won’t my husband look at me?”

Slowly, he heeds your command. Long lashes batting your thumb pad. He squeezes the round of your thighs circling his bare waist to strangle the urge to run. To flip himself over and let you do as you please. To not put himself out there and let you see him any less proper.

“I’ve been fond of you since we met,” you crane up to smooch his forehead, the heat from his face searing your lips. You rather like the sensation.

“So long?”

“How couldn’t I be? I like men shy and reserved, though I think I’d like you more if you could break out of your shell when we’re alone.”

Toshiro returns his face into your neck, hips snapping to impress his hardening cock against you. Breath hitching when he’s embraced by wetness, shoulders tensing -- so this is happening.

Loneliness plagued Toshiro his entire life, even following reconciliation with the Toudens -- it isn’t as though he lives in Melini, after all. Instead he’s occupying his father’s place in their family, on Wa. 

Your engagement was his only respite from the gnawing solitude, and now you’re dedicating yourself to sides of him you haven’t even seen yet.

His slow thrusts are stiff and mildly pleasant until you coo and snag fingers into the divot of his tailbone. Pushing his hips to roll into yours, black pubes brushing your clit and curling a real whimper from your lips. Toshiro stares down at you at the sound, fumbling a moment to snare your thighs tighter around him before eagerly repeating the motion.

Canting up to meet Toshiro’s efforts rewards you with a warm stretch and soft squelch as your hole adjusts around him. Huffy pants escape the man above you, chest dying red and hands bruising your hips. 

He’d never liked someone as much as he liked Falin, but he’s thinking -- even through delirium and heat and lust -- that maybe he could love you.

Pitching up on your elbows, you whine quietly into his cheek with more lavish kisses. Toshiro greedily turns his head to capture your lips with his, praying to drown his rhythm-less, virgin embarrassment in your saliva.

You don’t finish. You say you’re okay with that. Toshiro isn’t, it feels selfish.

“Please, let me…” his fingers skim over your stomach before dipping between your thighs and tracing the sloppy, soaked seam of your cunt, “I want to.”

“Do you insist?”

Toshiro feels unnaturally bold, swallowing around syrupy desire. He nods, “I do.”

.

.

.

days prior.

Hands swept tightly behind your back, you carefully observe the way a common copper beetle is ticking around the hanging tree leaves. Fascination blazes your eyes wide, and lips coiled upward.

Toshiro hadn’t meant to actually see you. He wasn’t even aware you were still on the premises, certain that having his fiance so close before their wedding night was some strain of scandal. 

Nonetheless, you’re here. And you’re admiring the fuzzy legs of a mere beetle.

As far as he was aware, people were not fond of beetles. Butterflies or moths, maybe. Not beetles. Hien would squish them instantly, and even Inutade tried maintaining distance. 

You smile upon the creature, paying no mind to the outside world.

Toshiro wonders if you could smile upon him that way, too.

~~~ yes toshiro starts liking you bc you’re admiring a bug that moment in the manga was so significant to his character and to me and ill be damned if i dont get to add onto it

[brownskinlemon]

Midori Sour Pt.3

pairing: dominic fike x (photographer fem! reader)

word count: 1,531

summary: you attend your friend Omar's pool party. what happens when liquid courage and a certain curly-haired boy combine to change your perspective on LA?

part 1 + part 2

warnings: fluff!, none others that I know of!

author's note: Apologies for the impromptu hiatus, but I wanted to finish this so I can get back into making more!

-

A jumble of conversation down the hall  and the sun peaking through the blinds were the first things to coax you out of your sleep in the morning. You shuffled slightly, settling back into the mattress as you took notice of the warm heavy arm wrapped around your waist. 

The scent of shampoo flooded your nose, a mop of curls flush against your chest. Dominic’s sleeping form begins to stir at your adjustments.

“Where are you going?” Dominic’s voice grumbles out, voice thick with sleep.

“Nowhere. I’m here.” You sigh content, hands making their way up to rake through his curls. In the silence that follows, the events of yesterday flood like a montage across your brain. Your thighs clench at the remembrance of the warmth flooding you as his hands and mouth and body coaxed all you had out of you late into the night. If you focused acutely, you could pinpoint the slight soreness settling its way between your thighs.

Toned arms wrapped impossible closer around you as Dominic shuffled closer into your neck. A warm breath fanned your neck as he attempted to prolong his sleep. 

“Hey.” You rasped out, “I’m up now you have to wake up with me.”

A grumpy groan rumbled in his chest, his face burying impossibly deeper into your neck. A childish huff left his chest before he tilted his head back, barely opening one of his eyes to look at you. You watched in amusement as he obnoxiously stretched, leaning his head on his elbow to stare back at you through his nearly-closed lids.

With the alcohol and weed no longer coursing through you, you got a good look of him sober, and truthfully he was just as, if not more enthralling up close. It struck you once again that the man before you had been completely buried to a hilt inside of you last night, the very first night you had known each other. As the sun swirled his brown eyes into honey, you began to still, wanting to freeze the moment. You didn’t want to think about what was next after you both left this bed, and more importantly, if this meant more to you than it did him.

He’s a rockstar, with women being at an endless supply, and you couldn’t help the slight sting in your chest when considering the vulnerability of last night, even before you had been stripped of your clothes, it could all have been for nothing.

“What are you thinking about?” He rasps softly, snapping you out of your trance.

“Nothing.” You say, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“Nothing? Wanna try answering that truthfully?” He says, bringing a finger to trace lines around your stomach and up your torso mindlessly.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We saw each other butt ass naked last night, there’s nothing more embarrassing than that. I promise you’ll live. Now tell me. Please?” 

You huffed, frustrated that he was right.

“Um, I was just thinking about last night. What was it to you? I know it’s a stupid question and I’m not expecting you to propose or anything,  I just don’t know how to feel.”

“It’s not stupid.” He reassures, taking his hand to cup your jaw. “Like I said last night, I really, really like you. I don’t hook up with random women anymore you know? It’s just not me. I don’t want you to think it was just like a hookup. It turned out that way, and trust me it was amazing, but I wanna get to know you in other ways too. You feel me?” 

“You read my mind.” You mutter, still avoiding his gaze as you let his words settle over you. 

“How do you feel?” He asks, coaxing your eyes to look back at him again.

“I really want to get to know you too. Being in this bed with you doesn’t feel real, in the best way. I just didn’t wanna get fucked over if this is all you wanted from me.” Your bottom lip came between your teeth as you chewed in thought.

“ I don’t expect you to trust me yet, but I hope you’ll come to eventually. Hm?” You nod in response. “Now that you’ve confessed your undying love to me..wanna get brunch?”

You scoff jokingly. “ Dominic I did not-”

“You want chicken and waffles or not?” His smirk begins to match yours, placing a finger over your mouth. You both break out in laughter, the calm serene morning washes over you a last time before you search for your phone to check the time. It reads “11AM”, under it however is a mass notification of texts and Instagram notifications. Your eyes widen and you shoot up in the bed at the screen.

Dominic jumps up with you, just as thrown off at the sudden panic lacing your features. “What?”

“Look.” You say breathlessly, turning the phone to show him your now open Instagram with 10s of thousands of mentions. 

“Forgot about that.” He narrows his eyes sheepishly.

“Tell me about it.” You saw, swiping the notifications to find different tags of you on fan pages, dms of people you knew and didn’t know wanting the deets, and a flood of request DMs that you were almost sure were laced with a threat or two. You groan, slapping your hand over your face , “God I forgot you were famous.” 

You couldn’t help breathlessly, feeling your heart rate pick up and stress tense you up. 

“Don’t look at that right now okay? Just focus on this, on us, what’s in the here and now.” He grabbed your phone gently, coaxing it face down in your hand. He grabbed both hands, ducking down to catch your downcast eyes in a genuine gaze. “ Be there with me for a bit longer.” You nod silently in response.

Before you can say anything further, he’s sliding off the bed to slip on pajamas and turn on the shower to warm up the water, and returning to help you to your feet. `

“Mmm” You groaned, a pang of soreness between your legs from the movement. You were almost sure you saw a pleased and cocky smirk grace his features slightly before fleeting. Once the water was warm, he coaxed you in gently, joining you after ridding himself of his pants. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rinsed your sore limbs with the warm water, head falling back onto his shoulder with a sigh. His head came to rest on your shoulders, sighing contently as he scrubbed your limbs. After cleaning you both off, he brung you to sit on the edge of the tub, drying you off.

You were now clad in his shirt and shorts, and he wore a similar outfit. You smiled lightly at the curls of his head drenched in water, extra curly and delicate. It emphasized the gentle youthfulness of his features. He grabbed your hand, pulling you along the hallway similarly like the night before, to join everyone else in the living room.

The mumbled conversation gets louder as you both get closer to the living room. Everyone was alive at the bare minimum, the alcohol from yesterday clearly taking its toll. “How’d you sleep lovebirds?” Omar asks bashfully. Dominic takes a seat next to him while you perch on the couch arm next to them.

You both made eye contact before you answered “Fine.” Dominic nodded to your answer.

“It sounded more than fine. ‘Dom, oh, please Oh Dom!’”- He was cut off by your hand rushing to cover his mouth.

“Dude you heard that, how?” Dominic groans, leaning his head back against the couch. 

“Y’all were loud. Quiet for two crossfaded horny dogs. But not quiet in general.” He replied once you removed your hand from his mouth.

You hid your face in both hands, running warm with pure unadulterated embarrassment. 

“Dom that was ballsy posting that picture, you got motherfuckers blowing me up for info about it.”

“Yeah it’s even worse on Y/N’s page bro, they’re blowing her shit up.” 

“It’s insane how many tags and requests I’ve gotten, like it’s kinda scary.” You sigh deeply.

“I feel bad, but honestly I kinda love having shit to myself that people think they know so much about. I plan to keep little Missy around, so they’re gonna have to cope.” Dom shrugs.

You couldn’t help the bashful smile gracing your features at the casualness of the heavy comment. You caught each other's eyes across the couch, smiling softly to yourselves as if in secret conversation. 

“I’d love to stay around with you guys, but I was promised chicken, waffles, and mimosas by a little someone.” You raised your eyebrow knowingly at Dominic.

“I did not promise mimosas.” He retorts.

“It was implied!” You stand, turning to head back to your room to pack. “Hurry up, I'm starving here!” You toy over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the man capsizing the enthralled smile on his face.

You’d have to thank Omar later for his wingman ship, but you’d like to think it was the Midori Sours that did Dominic in, and led you to a night and a boy you’ll never forget. 

[musubi-sama]

“Classmates” Chapter 3

You end up spending all of Spring Break studying each other’s anatomy.

AN: I really want to go on this girl-date. Like, it’s just so fun and whimsical. Date or not, it’s on my list of things I want to do with a girlfriend. Here's the inspo for the outfits to keep in the back of your mind.

WC: 4.2k

Previous chapter | Next chapter

You awake to bright sun beaming into the room. Rolling over you check your phone on the bedside table, and it reads 11:17 am, Saturday. Rolling back, you feel movement beside you and look over to see a pair of half-open eyes staring at you.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” Shoko says, with a deep sleepy gravel.

“Hi,” you say, letting out perhaps too much chipper in your tone.

“Oh no, you’re not one of those ‘morning people’ are you?” Shoko’s eyes shut as she tries to pull the covers over her head.

Trying to recall the events from last night with a small headache sitting right inside your forehead clouding your memory. You remember going to the bar, your boyfriend breaking up with you outside the bar, drinking a lot of beer, going back to Shoko’s apartment for wine, your first orgasm at the hands of another woman, a lovely bath and more wine, and wait, just how many more orgasms?

You groan as you reach over to the blankets covering Shoko, “do you want me to lie and say no?”

“No one’s perfect.”

“Can I at least raid your kitchen and make breakfast?”

“Be my guest. I don’t even know what food is in there,” Shoko rolls into you and leans up to plant a soft kiss on your jawline.

You return the gesture with a kiss on her forehead and then slide out of bed. Looking around, you see your discarded t shirt from after the bath sitting on the floor and toss it on as you walk out the door. You catch a catcall lobbed your way as you make your way out the door.

You respond with a flick of your hips and slip out of sight.

Shoko makes her way out of the bed and pulls on a short satin robe as she grabs a small clutch on her nightstand and steps out to the veranda. Shuffling through the clutch, she pulls out a lighter and cigarette pack. Finally freeing the stick from the pack, she lights the end and takes a drag.

A few minutes later you return to the bedroom with two coffees, a cup of milk, and a bowl of sugar.

“Oh, there you are,” you exclaim as you step outside. “I made coffee. But I didn’t see anything for breakfast in your kitchen.”

“Sorry, I don’t usually eat breakfast,” she offers a meek smile as she eagerly accepts the coffee and declines the milk and sugar.

“Bad habit,” you motion to the cigarette pack sitting on the table between you.

“Yeah. I’ve been considering stopping.”

Silence drifts between you as you sip coffee and take in the late-morning sun. As the caffeine innervates your brain, your jumbled thoughts start to reform into their usual confusing nest of twisted wires.

What was last night? Where does that leave you and Shoko? Are you bi or…? Drunken mistake? When can we go again? I was terrible at it, wasn’t I?

All knotted up, like a crowd of reporters at an urgent press conference. Pull on one thread, five others twist up tighter. You never had a problem with academic critical thinking and organizing your thoughts coherently. That was easy. Science has a logical start, middle, and end. But matters of emotions, those were pesky, illogical, and twisty.

You couldn’t blame your ex for breaking up with you, you weren’t exactly a good communicator when it came to your feelings. It was easy enough to talk about your opinions on the latest movie or video game, but to ask your brain to create a coherent thought about intimate concepts? Good luck.

Shoko put out her butt in the ashtray and finished her coffee. Crossing one leg over the other, her robe sliding down her leg to reveal a tease of her plush, bare, ass. The front open just enough to show off the soft dip in her cleavage. The movement and subsequent skin reveals snap you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flicker between the newly exposed chest and hips as you bring your feet up to rest on the seat of the chair and you lay your head on your knees.

“Care to join me on the couch?” Shoko’s eyes dart to your lips briefly as she shifts to stand up and take her mug and clutch back into her apartment.

“Happily," you follow her back into the bedroom.

You feel a little shameless immaturity as you stare at her while she drops the robe for a pair of leggings and a t shirt, hair clipped back with a few wisps hanging in her face in just the perfect messy-but-sexy way.

Heading into the living room, you pull a large throw blanket out of the closet as you curl up on one side of the couch, beginning a long session of ‘What do I want to watch when there are nigh-infinite choices and no pressing tasks to complete?’ Shoko grabs her own blanket and sits at the other end, legs extended on the chaise as she pops open her laptop.

“What are you in the mood for?” you ask Shoko.

“Whatever you want, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat and you fumble the remote for a moment but regain your grasp. “Ooo a new ancient civilization video podcast is out,” you start playing the video. It’s a long, four-hour video and you’re happy to lounge and not over think things for a while.

After a while, you shift your position on the couch and notice Shoko has been typing non-stop. You get up, head towards the kitchen and return with two glasses of water, sitting down one on the table near Shoko.

“For you.”

“Exactly what I needed right now,” She leans over to plant a small kiss on your cheek. You can’t hide your blush.

“So,” your voice comes out cracked. “What are you working on?” you scoot closer to her, apprehensively closing the distance on the couch.

“Oh, just my med school application,” she pushes her laptop away and turns to you.

“Woah. You’re so smart, a doctor-doctor,” you look at her with puppy dog eyes as you praise Shoko.

“I wouldn’t say that, just a glutton for punishment and school I guess,” she shrugs and takes a sip of water. You giggle, perhaps a bit too much, at her response. An awkward silence descends between you two, just taking sips of water and watching TV, you are unsure of how to continue the conversation.

So, did Shoko really mean it? That last night wasn’t just a one-time thing? You’ve known Shoko for around seven months, and you immediately noticed her poise, grace, and sharp wit. As you spent more long days and nights in the lab and office together, you saw her brilliance, dedication to helping others even if it meant a longer night for herself, and intensity. You’d get coffee with her and find yourself talking more than her, but every time you tried to steer the conversation back, she’d come back with another insightful question or comment for you.

Growing up, your friendships were polite and casual, never finding someone to call your ‘person.’ You filled your time with academics, hoping that you’d find someone via school to share secrets with or to call when a boy did something stupid. To get coffee with or just invite over to watch TV and drink wine.

You were starting to think that Shoko could be that person. And maybe this is what best best friends do. They get naked and touch each other in that way that makes their brains short circuit, and their eyes roll back in their heads to see colors beyond the realm of man. Just classmates who study from books and each other’s bodies.

You begin to feel a foot slowly sliding along yours, then up your leg.

“I need a break,” Shoko pulls her leg further up and slips it over yours.

She pulls both blankets over the two of you, creating a very cozy situation. Under the blankets, her hand snakes its way to your thigh and gives you a light squeeze. Your mouth goes dry, mentally cursing that you set your glass of water on the table.

“O-oh, uh, yeah?” you’re not very convincing while trying to keep a level tone.

“Yeah,” Shoko’s tone is sultry. She shifts herself under the blankets and slides to the floor, settling on her knees between your legs. Kissing up the inside of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in her wake and each breath of yours shakier than the last.

DAYS LATER

“You’re…picking this up-ahhh-quite fast,” Shoko is trying to catch her breath as she recovers from another orgasm. Water washes over her heaving chest as she pushes off the wall. You gently remove her leg from your shoulder as you rock back on your heels and look up from your position, licking your lips in satiated lust. You slide your hands up her body as you also stand, arms wrapping around her waist, hands hanging loosely on Shoko’s lower back.

“I’ve had a lot of practice, y’know,” planting a kiss on Shoko’s pulse point, then trailing up her jawline, and finishing by nipping her lower lip and pulling back slightly before releasing.

Shoko’s hands resting on your cheeks, arms caged in by yours. She’s enjoyed these moments of submission, being cared for and worshipped.

Being someone for whom friends and acquaintances came to for advice and an ear to bend brought the burden of information. Hearing of joys and accomplishments, the mundane meals one cooked or ate, but also the stress in someone’s life, the requests for advice in handling a tough situation. It warmed her to be considered a trusting person, but occasionally the secrets were too intense or the drama too much.

Sure, she had her best friends, Satoru and Suguru, to lean on and oh she did. But they weren’t her person, the one who would lay in her lap on the couch and be vulnerable towards. And take a bath with her and wake up in her arms. Could you be it? Or are you just close classmates?

“Let’s get out of here, I’m hungry and as much as I crave your pussy,” you bring your hand around to lightly graze Shoko’s core. “I need something that’ll give me more energy.”

Sitting at the table with a plate of sandwiches, you take a sip of water. Shoko sits down across from you.

“Hey. I was thinking, the weather is supposed to be exquisite today. I’ve got this instant photo camera and I saw an idea online recently where you go to the thrift store and pick out a new outfit for each other then go take pictures. Sound fun?” Shoko points over at her desk where you see a cute blue camera.

“Oh really? Yeah, let’s do it. We both could probably use the fresh air anyways.”

Dressed in your new-to-you outfits, you hop in Shoko’s car and make your way to a field of wildflowers.

“I know just the spot. I come here whenever I need to clear my head and get out of the city,” Shoko rests her hand on your leg as she cruises along the twisty, empty roads. Rolling hills with budding trees fill your view. Houses dapple the hills; sky is clear with the occasional wispy clouds. You enjoy the clarity the view brings, understanding why she likes coming out here.

Growing up in a high-rise in a city with career-married parents, you rarely took vacations or left the city. Even in college, you stayed near home and never took trips over school holidays. You found comfort in the cacophony; but this view (okay, sure Shoko is part of said view) is tickling a pleasant part of your brain you’d not felt before.

Pulling up to a small dirt road, Shoko stops the car and you both step out.

You’re in Shoko’s chosen outfit, a forest green and yellow leaf printed wrap skirt tied at your waist and reaching down just past your knees. The top is quite out of your comfort zone in orange and yellow striped fitted halter neck top with a keyhole detail, crisscrossed across your chest and fastened behind your neck. She also picked out some dainty gold chain earrings and some thin coordinating gold thin rings. The outfit is finished off with a pair of forest green mules.

Shoko is in a stunning pair of mustard yellow high waist wide leg trousers with a black cowl-neck one shoulder blouse, exposing her left arm. You also grabbed a pair of thick-framed black acrylic sunglasses and faux-leather booties.

You take a deep breath and exhale, “wow the air is amazing out here!”

Shoko smiles and walks around, taking your hand in hers and starts walking into the flowers “come with me.”

Following Shoko into the flowers, you find a small clearing and lay out a blanket. You sit across from Shoko, and she fishes in her satchel for her camera.

“I’m…I’m not really a ‘take pictures of me’ type of person…” you look down at your hands sitting in your lap, starting to fidget slightly.

“It’ll just be for our eyes only. And I’ll help you feel your best the entire time,” Shoko reassures you as she holds the camera to the side of her face. “Now, the best way to start is to make you laugh!

Remember at the bar last week when Mahito tripped over the step?”

“Oh, and then his beer spilled all down- “

“Right? And he grabbed the napkin to clean it up but then they- “

You both burst into laughter, and you hear the first click of the camera and a mechanical whirr as the photo begins to print. You continue chattering away while you wait for the photo to emerge and develop. Shoko gives it a shake and you lean over to look.

“Oh, I really like that one!” you give a surprised smile. Shoko just looks up at you while you examine the photo. She puts it next to her and readies the camera again.

“Can you daydream at night?” Shoko asks a sudden question, and you shift into an inquisitive expression.

*click whirr*

The questions and conversation continue as you trade the camera back and forth telling jokes, revealing shower thoughts, and watching the flower rustle in the light breeze. Clicking and whirring continue as the stack of photos piles up.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” you say, looking out through the flowers and sky after several clicks of the camera.

“Well, are you going to do something about that?” Shoko pulls the camera away from her face.

You push her legs so you can slot in between them and sit with your back to hers. You’re partially laying down, looking up at her.

*click whirr*

When it comes out, you gasp and lean up to kiss her on the cheek.

*click whirr giggles*

“Which med schools are you applying to? Maybe if we’re lucky we could, y’know, keep being classmates…” you trail off, an inflection of question in your tone as you settle your head against her shoulder.

“Is that so?” Shoko looks down, her expression unreadable.

“Ah well, we don’t have to. I just thought maybe…”

“You’re so easy to fluster,” she lands a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’d love to continue to med school with you. I didn’t realize you were planning on applying,” Shoko swipes a stray hair out of your face.

“I didn’t really plan on it till about a month ago. But I think I’ve got the professional references, and the application isn’t all too dissimilar to grad school. The hard part will be the MCATs, but I think it’ll be manageable. Unless…you’re trying to go to a really difficult school?”

“Oh god no. I’m only applying to schools I know I have a real chance at attending, and they all have modest bars of entry. I’ve seen your work in the lab, you’ll have an easier time than me!”

*click whirr*

At this point, the sun is setting, and you’ve lost the golden rays. But you’ve both given up on taking more photos, opting to lay down on the blanket, Shoko resting her head on your stomach. You’re lost in the conversation, it continues free-flowing and meandering. The questions tickling the far-reaches of your brain, talking about concepts you’ve never spoken about to a person before. A few threads in your brain untangling. Despite of the chilly spring air falling over the two of you, you feel a warmth spreading from your chest and a sense of serenity.

Eventually Shoko checks her watch and it’s well into the evening.

“We should probably head back now. Do you want to stay one more night?” Shoko sits up slightly and reaches a hand up to your cheek.

“If you’ll have me,” you reach your hand up to hold hers.

“Oh, gladly,” Shoko chuckles softly and for a brief flash you see a wisp of lust float through her eyes.

Returning to Shoko’s apartment, with bags of fast food in your arms, you both settle onto the floor around the coffee table and turn on some reality TV while you eat dinner.

After throwing away the final trash in the kitchen, you feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind and a soft kiss planted on your neck. Before you can pull your arms around to grasp the ones around your waist, they’ve snaked their way up your abdomen and are clutching your breasts in your striped top.

“You look even better in this than I expected,” Shoko squeezes both hands, attempting to grasp all of your chest in her hands. You let out a soft moan and acquiesce into another kiss on your neck.

“Those pants make your legs go on for days, babe,” you reach back to grab Shoko’s ass. Her eyes roll to the back of her head at hearing the petname, simple as it is.

Shoko spins you around, leaning you against the counter, and immediately plants her lips on yours. She gets aggressive, biting and pulling on your lower lip. Her hands threading through your hair, giving a small tug with the bite.

You pull your head back and then aim right at her neck. You latch on and suck until you hear a moan and release your lips. Satisfied with yourself for leaving a deep mark. Your hands finding their way back to her ass and squeeze again, rubbing up and down, cupping them from underneath.

You continue to makeout with Shoko, tongues sliding around each other, puffy lips nipping at anything they can reach, both sets of hands roaming wildly across each other’s bodies, until Shoko lifts you up onto the counter. She slots in between your legs while finding the seam of your wrap skirt. Shoko peels it back and you spread your legs further.

She crouches down and plants light kisses up the inside of your thigh, hands sliding up along with her lips little by little. A trail of goosebumps in her wake. Her soft nose bumps your clothed clit, and you buck slightly at the sensation.

“Next time,” Shoko is panting lightly, “how about we pick out lingerie instead?”

She tugs at your panties, sliding them off and down your legs to drop onto the floor. Settling onto her knees, Shoko takes a soft lick up your quivering pussy. You lean back on your hands and throw your head back as you let out a long moan.

Shoko reaches her hand up, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit. Wanting to taste more of your sweet cunt, she begins to lick and suck, swallowing every drop that collects on her tongue.

Increasing the pressure, Shoko’s tongue touches every nerve that drives you closer to the edge. Each touch tightens the knot forming in your abdomen. After a week of fucking in every room and with little breaks, she’s figured out the exact ways to tease and touch, and the exact ways to turn you into a puddle.

Shoko takes her free hand and slides two fingers in with little resistance. Her tongue licking the outer folds, she turns her palm up and curls her fingers to slide across that spongy bundle of nerves waiting for attention. You immediately keen and wrap your legs around Shoko’s head, pulling her in closer. She moans at how needy you’re being.

Continuing to increase the movement and pace, Shoko looks up and sees your chest heaving and your stomach contracting. Your whines are getting louder, reaching fever pitch as suddenly the knot in your abdomen feels almost somehow tighter. As if Shoko has touched a new nerve, a string that has wrapped itself around the knot, squeezing it that much stronger.

The knot snaps and your hips launch up off the counter, leaving you to brace yourself on your arms. All rational and irrational thought ceases in your brain. All that courses through the neurons are the sounds of dialup internet. And for the first time in your life, you squirt. Shoko immediately latches on to your spasming cunt and swallows as much as she can, the rest falling past her chin. She stays attached to you until your hips return to the counter.

You slowly lift your head up, chest still heaving as your heartrate begins to normalize, and Shoko takes that cue to stand up and give you a taste of yourself. Moaning into your lips, she removes her hands from your oversensitive core, bringing them up to your cheeks, not caring of the mess it is making. Certainly, less of a mess than what just exploded from you. As your brain slowly starts to revive itself, you return the intensity of the kiss and sit up fully.

“What…what was that?” you are incredulous, pulling away from Shoko’s lips, but leaving your foreheads touching. “What-how?”

“You don’t think I haven’t been practicing for years on myself. Not to mention, we’ve spent how much time together this week? Surely you wouldn’t insult the skills of my hands?” Shoko pouts and puts on a fake hurt expression, exaggerating her last sentence.

“Oh god no.” Taking one of her hands in yours, you begin to clean off her fingers one at a time, wrapping your tongue around each wet digit. “Your fingers are a gift from above.”

You both giggle and Shoko feels weak every time you wrap your soft tongue around one of her fingers. Her aching pussy throbbing at each lick.

You finish your task and hop off the counter. Heading towards the bedroom, you sway your hips side to side with each step, and just before stepping around the corner, you look over your shoulder with your best attempt at a sultry gaze accompanied with a single finger beckoning at Shoko.

Shoko blinks twice, still in disbelief that you’ve spent not just one night in her bed, and not just coffee after classes or drinks with the lab, but a whole week exploring each other’s bodies, snuggling on the couch, and discarding your veils to just be yourselves.

Once Shoko arrives in the bedroom, you’ve already discarded your skirt and are attempting to work your way out of the halter top but are struggling to unlatch the buttons. Shoko approaches and the collar drops instantly with a flick of her fingers.

“Your turn. Drop the extra layers and go lay on the bed,” you attempt to sound commanding.

Shoko appreciated the attempt, and before disrobing, she slid a hand under your chin and whispered, “Oh I do love a woman in charge.”

Once Shoko settled herself on the bed, you climb up and face her, draping your left leg over her right and sliding your other leg under her left. You then start to slide closer to her. Once you are sitting within inches, feeling the heat radiating from her core, you reach out a hand to collect up a bit of what is leaking from her. You moan as the sweetness hits your tongue.

Bringing your cunt to reach hers, you slowly rub up and down, letting your arousals mix into a sweet concoction. You let your head fall back as you press harder, Shoko pressing back to you. Heavy pants are heard, but you can’t tell where one’s sounds end and the other begins.

The intensity increasing, Shoko’s head lolling down into her chest, chest heaving as your peaks approach. A sheen of sweat forming, arousal dripping onto the bed as you both push together and slip past one last time as your arms lose their strength and you both collapse in ecstasy.

Bathing in the afterglow, limbs still tangled, bodies touching in lewd ways, you slowly pull yourself up and shift so that Shoko can bury her head in your bosom. You thread your fingers in hers as you let your heartbeats even out together, keeping your pulses close to each other.

“Hey, I had an amazing week. And despite of how vigorously we relaxed, it really was relaxing,” you say to Shoko as you squeeze her hand for emphasis.

“I hope it helped ease the heartbreak,” Shoko starts to get up and head towards the bath. “Let’s get cleaned up and actually relax.”

[ange1sang]

a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days. 

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband. 

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him. 

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand. 

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden. 

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead. 

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder. 

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign. 

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend. 

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms. 

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up. 

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of  trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey. 

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead. 

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under. 

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place. 

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows. 

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other. 

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart. 

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

[nelissecrectplace]

𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕤 & 𝕐𝕠𝕦

tsireya x reader

word count: 2.7k

language: Syulang- flower, Kalweyaveng- son of a bitch, Oel ngati kameie- i see you

description: Tsireya, a girl you have loved before you even knew what the word meant. A girl that made you feel ugly emotions you did not know were possible. The girl you would connect to by a small little seashells.

The first time you saw Tsireya you did not know why you were so drawn to her. A little voice screaming in your head to be her friend. She seemed like an angel in your small eyes, the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, and you just couldn’t tear your gaze away. Completely tuning out your breathing instructor it was as if she had put you in a magical trance. “Y/n stop gawking at Tsireya and please pay attention. This lesson is very important!” Snapping her finger in front of your dazed face your teacher wore a stern expression. Obviously unamused with your new found interest in the small girl. A series of giggles echoed through the small group of children at her public scolding. Embarrassed, you casted your eyes to the floor a dark purple hue rising to your face. You did not miss the way Tsireya giggled with the rest, her voice seeming to stand out to your ears, only deepening your flustered state. It was the first time in your whole 5 years of life you felt truly flustered, a feeling you would get use to as you spent more time around Tsireya.

Thankfully, your teacher was quick to shush the children’s giggles saving you from farther humiliation. “There is no reason to laugh, now let’s wrap up this lesson.” Voice soft yet commanding all the children listened to the older na’vi. Big eyes all zoned in on her as she pressed her hands to her stomach explaining how to breathe from your belly. While you could not help but steal a few glances at the girl across the circle from you. Her big blue eyes seeming to hold the stars as she payed all her attention to her instructor. The class seemed to end too soon as your teacher dismissed you all. The girl you now knew as Tsireya rising to her feet. You did not expect her small body to walk over to you, eyes widening in shock. “Im Tsireya. You kept looking at me does that mean you wanna be my friend?”

“O-of course!” Tone radiating happiness you quickly rose to your feet. The girl was obviously a bit younger than you as you straightened yourself out standing a few inches over her. “I’m y/n” Smiling Tsireya giggled at your excitement seeing your emotions so obviously on display. “Wanna collect seashells with me?” Small hand outstretched you invited her to take yours. Excitedly nodding her head Tsireya placed her hands in yours. A joy like no other filling your body as you guided her to your favorite spot. Allowing the waves to lap over you feet as the two of you search the sand for a hidden gem. Creating a memory you would never forget. The moment that bonded you and Tsireya together.

Now in your late teenage years the two of you still shared the same habit. Tsireya had just finished her training of the day running to your form as you waited for her on the beach. “Y/n!” Ears perking up at the familiar voice you turned your head. As expected Tsireya wore a bright smile as she prance towards you . “I finished this last night wanted you to have it.” Voice soft the girl attempted to catch her breath, words coming out in a jumble. “You have always been a master weaver.” Accepting her gift you slid on her small bracelet. Seashells the two of you had found carefully placed in between the strands of fabric. Tsireyas big eyes watching your every move waiting for your reaction, comfortable placing herself next to you. Holding her gift up to the sun the seashells seemed to sparkle, a soft smile gracing your lips. Butterflies invading your stomach as you brain could not help but imagine this as a courting gift. “Is it to your liking?” Gaze shifting to the girl who still rested a few inches below you a warm feeling filled your stomach as you met her glimmering eyes.

“Of course syulang, I love it.” Shying away from your gaze her small hand came to her lips. A futile attempt to cover her smile. “Now come we must add to your collection.” Boldly taking her hands in your you guided her to the shore of the ocean just as you did many times. Tsireya, allowing you to drag her along as butterflies erupted in her stomach. Eventually Tsireya ventured on her own picking up the seashell she deemed the prettiest. A soft smile covering your face as you ‘looked’ with her, while in reality you spent most of the your time looking at her. “Ah! Look at this one!” Voice shrill Tsireyas voice seemed to raise a couple octaves as she rushed towards you. Smiling from ear to ear she presented a seashell morphed and smoothed into a heart shape by the ocean waves. “Look how it shines!” Giggling she help it up to the sun and it did in fact shine with the sun rays. A beautiful color that almost mirrored the shade of her baby blue eyes. “It’s a wonderful color, might just be my favorite shade of blue.”

“Really?” Cocking her head to the side Tsireys seemed to examine the seashell more. “I will make you more jewelry in this shade!” Proudly announcing her will it was as if a tiny light bulb had gone off in her head. “When I think about it I have not known your updated favorite color for a while now. What shade do you like syulang?” Turning to face you Tsireya lifted her head slightly. Her brows scrunched together as she thought, a habit she had kept ever since her toddler days. Suddenly bringing her hand to your face her thumb traced just below your eyes. Shocked, your pupils dilated slightly as the place she touched began to burn. Although, she had touched you thousands of times before it still sent fire racing through your skin. A fear rising in you that she would hear your heart thumping against your chest as you met her puppy dog eyes. “I think it might be your eyes, Eywa blessed you with a beautiful color.” Parting your lips you attempted to say something but to no avail. It was as if she had knocked the words out of you as you felt the temperature in your face begin to rise.

Seeming to notice this a smile made its way onto Tsireyas lips. Her touched slowly sliding down your face to your neck as she admired the markings adoring your body. “I will see you tomorrow? I must be getting back now. I have an important dinner to attend.” You did not miss the way her face slightly dropped at the mention of the dinner. You felt a pity for her knowing the stories of how incredible boring they were. “Of course, same spot as always.” Patting her head you ushered her off, not wanting the young girl to get in trouble because of you. Watching her form prance away you could not help but relish the heat of her lingering touch. Smacking your cheek you attempted to rid yourself of your emotions. “She is the cheifs daughter it will never work.” Muttering words you had said a million times. Words that had suppressed your growing emotions for years.

Sitting on the beach you gazed at the ocean. Finding peace in how the sand welcomed your form and the waves lapped against the shore. It was a beautiful day for taking a simple stroll on the beach. The sun was radiant yet not too hot resting calmly against your turquoise skin. A sigh breached your lips as you doodled in the sand an impatience growing within you every passing secant. You had secured a stone you deemed close enough to your eye color hoping to gift it to Tsireya. You had spent most of your morning crafting it into a similar heat shape as the one she found the other day. Using your weaving skills make it the center of a new top you had been crafting for the girl. Position the stone just right so it would rest upon her heart, a place you yearned to be.

Hours seemed to pass as you began to doze off head dipping from exhaustion. Your body seeming to flinch back awake every other minute. Finally having enough of waiting you rose to your feet a slight fear entering you. Tsireya had never stood you up. The girl Always telling you if she could not make it or at least stopping by for a few minutes before reporting back to her duties. Hopping to your feet your legs carried you in a hurry back to the village. Eyes scanning every na’vi passing you in hope one would be her. Almost near the end of your search a familiar giggle filled your ears. Body whipping around you felt you muscles visibly relax when you eyes set on her. Tsireya’s usual smile decoration her face.

“Reya-“ Cutting yourself off mid sentence you bit your tongue as another na’vi entered your view. You felt your stomach twist with a disgusting jealousy as you watched her interact with the male you knew as Ateo. Knowing by the look of desire swirling in his eyes that this was no platonic interaction. Eyes shifting back to the smaller female an anger seemed to mix in with your ugly emotions. Body moving as if you were possessed. “Oh! Y/n!” Noticing your presence Tsireya turned herself towards you. Noticing your mood a confused expression covered her face not sure why you seemed so upset. “Is there something wro-“

“You ditched me for this Kalweyaveng!” Voice dipping with venom you glared at the na’vi to her left. Fury dancing in your eyes. “Who do you think you’re talking too?” Eyes narrowing Ateos glare rested apon you. His tail whipping in aggression. “Wait, wait let’s all calm down.” Attempting to mediate the situation Tsireyas voice fell to death ears as Ateo took aggressive steps towards you. The male had always been arrogant and short tempered. Ateo stood slightly taller than you and seemed to be trying to use that as intimidation. You wanted to scoff at his pathetic attempt to make you cower. Bearing your teeth to Ateo you proved he did nothing to you. “You mad I stole your bitch?” Taunting words left the males lips and it made you want to rip his juggler out then and there. “Have some respect before I make you.” Hands shoving his chest you pushed the na’vi back slightly. Waiting for his short fuse to break.

“I said calm down!” Tone sharp and loud Tsireays voice drew the both of your eyes away from the other. An instant regret crashing over you as you saw her glossy eyes glaring at you both. “You are acting like children get a grip! And to call me by such a name Ateo?” Body shaking in anger the offense was evident in her voice. Body frozen you waited for the next words to leave her mouth but they never did. Seeming to stop herself from speaking Tsireya turned the other way her overwhelming emotions evident in her body language. “Dickhead.” Muttering the insult you quickly followed after Tsireya unraveling her top from your small bag. You did not worry about knowing the destination. Already knowing where Tsireya was headed. Knowing the female since childhood came with its perks.

Dragging your feet in the sand you purposely took a little longer to get to the spot on the beach. Wanting to leave time for Tsireya to calm down. Eventually, her form came into view as you quietly approached her, placing your body in the sand. Although she did not meet your gaze you knew she was aware of your presence as her ears twitching with each movement you made. “Hey syulang” Voice soft you allowed your hand to rest on her back, your finger trailing small circles on her skin. You felt her inhale deeply before meeting your gaze. “I am sorry.” Voice soft a pout rested upon Tsireyas face. “I did not mean to stand you up. It’s just my parents announced him as a potential mate and insisted I spent some time with him. I could not find the time to tell you.” Hearing her explanation it was like a knife to the heart. Shame washing over you in waves as you cursed your jealously fueled actions. Heart banging with regret and sadness at the mention of her mating.

“I am not mad. My reaction was very….. over the top. I am sorry.” Giggling slightly Tsireya seemed to recall the recent memory. “You looked like you were about to rip his head off! But, you did save me from having a horribly disrespectful and hot headed mate so I can not be mad.” Smiling slightly you felt relief wash over you as Tsireya seemed to accept your apology. Her normal cheerful mood returning. “I could never stay mad at you y/n. But why did you get so angry? Were you jealous?” Voice having a teasing tone to his Tsireya skillfully pried. Not wanting to let her true emotions out before she knew yours. Cheeks tenting at her suggestion you could not hold her gaze. Eyes casted out at the ocean. “I need to practice keeping my emotions in check.” Sighing at your answer a frown crossed Tsireyas face. She was tired of your indirect answers, she simply wanted to know what was going on in your head. “What is wrong syulang?”

“Nothing, I just need to find more suitors. I am of mating age after all.” Covering up her feelings she lied. Watching closely as you seemed to cringe at her words ears downturned. “I can make better things than any other suitor could.” Handing her the top you made Tsireyas eyes seems to sparkle. A shy smile making its way onto her face as her hands ran over the fabric. Tuning to dig into her pouch a confused look covered your face as you watched her rummage. Taking out a necklace with the seashell that matched hers but sewn into a dangly piece of jewelry. “We can match now!” Handing you the necklace with the seashell resembling her eyes you could not help the hue casting over your cheeks. “Tsireya we can not, only mates or family match.” Attempting to move the necklace back into their hands she resisted a stubbornly.

“Do you not wish to?” Eyes hurt she flashed her puppy dog look. The frown she wore minutes ago now placed upon her face again. Not being able to resist her beautiful eyes you placed the necklace on with a sigh. Thoughts spiraling in your head as Tsireya eyes lit up at the action. Turning her body around she began to undo her top. Air catching in your throat your eyes watched the fabric fall. Her slim back on full display. Her bare skin soon covered by the top you crafted, as she skillfully tied it around her neck. “Now we are matching!” Voice cheerful Tsireya launched herself onto you. Her body resting comfortable on your legs as she hugged you close. Heart beating rapidly against your chest you placed your arms around her. The warmth of her body seeming to burn as you temperature rose. “Tsireya-“

“I am not 5 y/n I know what the clan will think if they see us.” Leaning back Tsireya met your gaze. Her arms still around your neck and body comfortable seated on yours. There was no doubt your cheeks were every shade of purple as your eyes widened. Trying to wrap the meaning of her words around you brain. “Then I will court you.” Statement clear you looked into her ocean eyes. Searching for a reaction that was soon to come. A joyful screech left Tsireyas lips as she brung her body back to yours. Pressing herself impossibility close as your heart leaped in joy.

“Oel ngati kameie y/n”

“Oel ngati kameie, tsireya.”

Words of affection whispered you did not let Tsireya leave your hold. Eclipse settling in as the two of you cuddled in the sand. Your head on Tsireyas chest as the two of you looked up into the sky. Your matching seashell glowing with your bioluminescence freckles as they connected. The two hearts seeming to have once been one of the same shell. Reunited by two painfully oblivious na’vi finally making a move.

a/n: I hope you like my first Tsireya fic! I can not get enough of the Metkayina siblings. 🤭

tag: @yeosxxx

[projectionistwrites]

EQUIFINALITY | WINTER

PART ONE, sequel to GESTALT

Joel Miller x afab!reader (7.3k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: angst, grief, mentions of death and injury, age gap (not mentioned), reader is kinda harsh, no smut in this part DISCLAIMER: although this is a continuation of my series titled GESTALT, it could potentially be read as a standalone. however, i strongly suggest reading the first series to provide context for the reunion and background on the relationships between the characters. ALSO, before any joel apologists come after my head, i LOVE mister joel miller but this chapter does kind of call him out on his bullshit. try to contextualize everything with the events of the first series and remember where the reader is coming from before getting mad at me. :) NOTES: this part takes place during episode six of the last of us tv series, titled “kin.” the next installments will occur after the finale episode, when ellie and joel return to jackson.

next part →

43.4799° N, 110.7624° W.

Good luck, cowboy.

Joel’s fingers fiddled with the softening, worn edges of the cockled scrap of paper in his jacket pocket. Ellie was packing up her things further back in the cave, the crackling of the fire between them settling into a pile of smoldering embers and cinders as the sun began to rise. He didn’t need to take the note out again to know what it said—he had the entire thing committed to memory by now. He’d been mulling the numbers and letters over in his head for months, nagging at the back of his brain and gnawing an ulcer of uncertainty into his stomach.

They’d reach the coordinates within the next day. They were close. Just across the bridge over the River of Death, or whatever Ellie had taken to calling it. He wasn’t sure what they’d find—maybe Tommy and a small group, alive and well; or maybe Tommy, cold and alone; or worse, Tommy in an unmarked grave, six feet under the frigid tundra soil.

But cowboy.

The nickname felt like a punch straight to the gut, and shotgun shell straight through his chest. The message had come in three weeks after Tommy had stopped responding to his transmissions—Joel had already been planning on packing up and heading West from Boston to search for him, but he figured he’d stop to check once more with Abe. Maybe Tommy had finally responded, maybe he was alright.

But when he’d marched through the line of people in the cramped hallway and slipped the parcel of cigarettes across the table to the man in question, he was actually surprised to hear that he had, in fact, received a response.

It just wasn’t from Tommy.

“Listen, Joel, this is good news, isn’t it?”

Abe had asked, watching Joel over his thick-rimmed glasses as his eyes swept over the note in this hands.

“How d’you know it wasn’t Tommy?”

Joel breathed lowly, his chest feeling tight. The scrawled letters on the paper in his fingers were all jumbling together in his mind, eyes losing focus.

“Because I do. Came in late the other night. No signoff, no updates, no name. What you have in front of you is all I got.”

Joel’s head was swimming. Was this some sick fucking game? Would Tommy really stoop so low, to manipulate him into a false sense of hope by using that nickname, just so he’d follow in his footsteps?

“Look, Joel.”

Abe sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He leaned forward conspiratorially, taking a drag from his smoke.

“Those coordinates—I did some digging.”

He gestured for Joel to retrieve his map, and he obliged, laying it out flat on the desk in front of him. Abe picked up a dull pencil and prepared to mark.

“It ain’t too far off from where Cody Tower is—where the messages have been comin’ in from your brother.”

He made a small dot on the paper, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming.

“—and those coordinates, over here.”

He swiped another pencil stroke a short distance away, across the river on the map. He looked up at Joel.

“All open country, out there. No telling what you’ll find, and we don’t even know who it’s from—”

“Thanks.”

Joel had muttered, and it was the closest thing to gratitude Abe had ever received from the man as he stormed back out the door, the note clutched tightly in his right hand.

And now he was here. Cody Tower had been a ghost town. All these miles, all these months—he’d lost Tess, and Bill and Frank, and Henry and Sam. There was a lingering doubt in his throat—he’s come all this way. What if he didn’t find what he was looking for? What if—what if this had all been for nothing?

This wasn’t just about Tommy anymore. But then again—it never really had been, had it?

“So... who’s Y/N?”

Joel’s blood ran cold. His grip on the sniper tightened as his neck snapped around. Ellie was staring at him expectantly, fingers wrapped around the straps of her canvas backpack. His lips pressed into a line.

“The hell did you hear that name?”

A shadow crossed over his face, but Ellie knew better than to be intimidated. Still, she could tell she’d struck a nerve. She trekked forward, bumping into him playfully as she passed.

“You still mumble in your sleep. Say it a lot.”

Joel slung his backpack over his shoulder, tucking his leather jacket into the strap as he and Ellie trudged onward through the snow.

“…was she someone special?”

The insinuation in her tone was hard to miss. Joel swallowed. Months ago, he would’ve shut her down completely, probably chided the girl and iced her out, but now, after everything, he just sighed.

“Just someone I used to know.”

She knew better than to press any further. If the tick of his jaw was any indication, she had to tread lightly on the subject. They continued in silence of awhile, snow packing beneath the weight of their heavy boots, before Joel spoke again.

“S’was my neighbor. Lived next door, back home.”

“In Boston?”

Joel blew out something reminiscent of a chuckle, scratching his head.

“No. No, in—in Texas. Before—all this.”

“Hard to believe there was ever a before.”

Ellie muttered, and Joel hummed in agreement.

“Yeah. Was a long time ago. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

The girl's eyes narrowed as she watched him in her periphery.

“Seems like it still matters to me.”

Joel gave her a hard look, but she smiled innocently up at him, widening her gait just a bit to put some distance between them. He let out a long sigh, running a tired hand down his face. It didn’t matter—it shouldn’t matter. But he still tasted your name on his lips; still heard your laughter in the back of his mind, mingling with the innocent giggles of his late daughter; could still see the tears flooding your eyes and spilling down your cheeks as you fell to your knees before him, sobbing for him to stay, Joel, please, I am begging you, don’t do this, I love you, please—

They’d reached the bridge. Towering steel columns lined the path ahead of them, cold and unforgiving. To Ellie, cold and unforgiving seemed awfully familiar.

“The River of Death.”

She announced in a menacing voice, eyes wide for dramatic effect, and Joel shook his head, trying hard to fight the tinge of a smile that was making its way onto his face.

“What do you think is over there?”

Joel shrugged, cautiously taking his first step onto the platform before gesturing for Ellie to follow.

“Guess we’ll have to see if it lives up to the name.”

Joel could feel the familiar tightness in his chest as he clumsily swatted at the tears below his eyes, purposefully avoiding his brother’s sympathetic gaze.

The smell of sawdust once would’ve soothed his frazzled nerves, but the workshop in Jackson reminded him too much of home—a place he could never go back to.

And now Tommy had a home. And a wife. And a kid on the way—Joel had traveled hundreds and hundreds of miles to save his brother from some inevitable doom, but he was perfectly fine without him. No, it was worse—Tommy was better off without him.

I’m failin’ in my sleep.

The whole reason he’d agreed to take Ellie was because he was already planning on heading West himself—and now he was here, and it was just another dead fucking end. Another failure. All the people he’d lost, all the pain he’d suffered—it’d all been for nothing. He wasn’t rescuing his brother from something—he didn’t get to play hero. He should’ve fucking stayed in Boston. Then he’d still have Tess, and Ellie would’ve been better off with Marlene anyhow—and Y/N. Of course you weren’t here, of course Tommy had sent that radio transmission, of course Joel had been kidding himself all along—

“Come with me.”

Tommy’s voice pierced the silence that hung in the air, and Joel flinched at the sound. When his glassy eyes finally turned to his brother, he gestured with a nod of his head to follow him out of the woodworking shed and into the chill of the evening.

Joel grunted as he forced himself into the new boots Tommy had given him—they were snug, and warm, and way nicer than the weathered pair he'd been sporting up until this point. He stared down at them once he’d laced them up, wondering when in God’s name a new pair of boots had become such a fucking luxury.

“Joel.”

Tommy urged, and the man finally stood, following his brother outside and into the town square. As they walked beneath threaded strands of yellow lights, past decorated Christmas trees and families making their ways home, Joel was disgusted to feel a pang of resentment fleet briefly through his mind. Tommy had actually managed to find—create—some semblance of normalcy, of comfort, and Joel was jealous. It wasn’t fair—how could life still go on when so much had been lost?

Tommy spared him a look as he paused in front of a large wooden door, and Joel’s eyes flitted upwards to read the carved sign hanging above the entrance—MEDICAL. The building was right on the edge of the square, a decently sized structure with harshly tinted windows and a tiny handwritten card plastered beside the door—in black letters, with a tiny reversable placard beneath it.

THE DOCTOR IS: IN.

A bell chimed when Tommy shouldered the door open, holding it so Joel could step in beside him. The waiting room was cozy, filled with a mismatched collection of armchairs and recliners, a coffee table in the center with coloring pages and crayons strewn about. In the far left corner was a repurposed dining table that obviously served as a makeshift reception desk, although the chair behind it was vacant. There was only one door in the place, seemingly leading back into the examination room, and from just beyond, Joel could barely make out the sound of a child’s laughter.

Tommy lifted a hand to gesture for Joel to remain where he was before walking towards the door and slowly lifting his fist to knock. Joel felt anticipation well inside of his stomach, a swirling pool of uncertainty beginning to settle in. Tommy’s knuckles rapped against the wood.

“Hey, doc?”

He called softly, and Joel heard a woman’s voice over the sound of giggling.

“Yeah, just a sec, boss-man.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as Tommy came to stand back beside him, watching his expression shift carefully. He cleared his throat just as the door in front of them popped open and a little boy came bursting out.

Joel felt the breath get caught in his throat as two women followed the young child from the room, chitchatting animatedly with each other. One of the women was young, seemingly the child’s mother, but the other—

It was you. He watched as you threw your head back to laugh at something the woman across from you had said, you hand flying out to pat her good-naturedly on the bicep. The woman thanked you quickly before she chased after her child, the bell chiming as the pair exited—but Joel couldn’t hear it as your eyes met his.

You looked—the same. Or at least, more so than he had imagined. Your hair was shorter, and darker, not sun-bleached from long summer days spent out in the Texas heat. Your figure had filled out; even beneath the pair of pale pink scrubs you were wearing he could see that your soft curves had toned into a sturdy layer of muscle. Your eyes were lined with crow’s feet—wrinkles indicating that even after all this time, you’d never stopped smiling, never stopped laughing, and as your gaze met his, it was just...you. The same gleam in your eyes as the last time he’d seen you. The only notable change was the long, thin jagged pink line running down from your forehead and cutting into your right brow—a fully healed scar, indicative of some sort of injury from long ago.

The man was frozen, and suddenly all too conscious of his own lackluster appearance—he wondered how different he seemed to you, if behind his graying hair and deteriorating body you could still see any trace of the man you knew all those years ago. He wondered if he bared his sins through the lines on his face—if you could somehow see every horrible thing he’d done just by sparing him a glance.

But if you could, you didn’t show it. Instead, your lips flickered up at the corners, just barely, but enough that there was the notion of a grin on your still perfect pink lips.

“Joel.”

You acknowledged, although you didn’t make any move further to greet him. He was shocked at your ability to remain so collected—he was flustered, speechless, his mouth opening and closely dumbly like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t know what to do. He wanted to pull you into his arms, wanted to apologize for everything he’d ever done to harm you, wanted to fall to his knees and thank a God he didn’t even believe in that somehow you’d made it.

But instead, he snapped his jaw shut and cleared his throat, shuffling his weight a bit awkwardly on his feet. Tommy glanced at his brother in his periphery—saw the tension that hovered over him and rendered him practically incapacitated. With a sigh, he decided to throw him a bone, and turned to you.

“Just thought—Just thought you two might like to, uh, catch up.”

Tommy offered sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders to display his discomfort. You leaned against the doorframe.

“Does Maria know about this?”

Joel watched as you quirked a suspicious brow at his brother, a small smirk on your face. Tommy’s eyes widened in panic.

“Well—no, but I just figured—look, please don’t tell her, I know—”

“Relax, boss-man, I’m just teasin’ you. She brought in the girl to see me earlier today.”

Joel was startled to learn that.

“You—You met Ellie?”

Your eyes snapped back over to him, as if surprised he was actually able to speak. You regarded him softly.

“Yeah, I met Ellie. She’s a fuckin’ pistol. Only fourteen?”

You clarified, and Joel nodded. You whistled lowly, smiling mischeiviously.

“Jesus, cowboy—two decades ago, you thought 22 was too young.”

Tommy’s hand flew to his mouth in an attempt to cover up the bark of a laugh that spilt out. It took Joel a few seconds to register your comment, but when he did, his entire body stiffened, eyes widening in blatant offense and, frankly, incredulity.

“The hell is wrong with you? She’s just—”

“Oh, chill out, cowboy, I was just joking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Joel narrowed his eyes, and just like that, the tension between you was back, but Tommy was not oblivious to it, this time. He cautiously made a move towards the door.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to—”

“No!”

You exclaimed, sounding borderline insulted.

“You’re just gonna leave? The fuck do you want me to do with him?”

Joel scoffed at the way you were referring to him, your hand gesturing to him as if he were a child you were being forced to babysit. Tommy threw his hands up in defense.

“Easy, doc. I gotta go see the missus—we’re puttin’ him up in 38, right across the street from us. Just—I don’t know, Y/N, just do your doctor thing and then walk him over there. You’re fine.”

“And whose idea was it to put him in 38?”

You glowered threateningly, the scar on your face contorting with the expression, and Tommy swallowed at your clear disdain.

“Actually, that was Maria’s.”

“Fuckin’ classic.”

You murmured angrily, and when Tommy turned to leave once more, you waved a dismissive hand towards him, scoffing in distaste. The door banged shut behind him, and just like that, you and Joel were alone.

His eyes flitted from the door and back to you, finding your eyes already on him. He could see the maturity in them—you seemed older, wiser, your gaze more calculating and scrutinizing. Even with the new scar that you adorned, you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Your shoulders sagged in defeat before you jerked your head to the side.

“Come on, then, cowboy. Time for your appointment.”

Joel silently walked towards you, shuffling past you and into the examination room. He felt the heat of your body as he brushed past you, and fuck, you still smelled like—like you, all these years later. Clean, like freshly folded linens or laundry straight out of the dryer, with just a dash of citrus.

He paused in the threshold, taking in the room. It was fairly spacious, with a steel examination table pushed up against one wall and your desk on the other. The wall straight across from him was lined with shelving that contained more medical equipment than he thought existed—jars of various medications, bandages, gauze, pads and tampons, antiseptic and antibiotic ointments, and other various supplies that he didn’t even know the name of.

“Well, up you get.”

You nudged his back with the knuckles of your right hand, gesturing towards the steel examination table. He shot you a silent glare, but you masked your satisfied smirk as he hoisted himself up onto the surface, leaning back against the wall to face you.

You sat in your threadbare office chair, rolling it away from your desk so you could face him. He watched as you reached into a jar full of tiny white pills on the corner of your desk, grabbing a few and tossing them back into your mouth with ease. His jaw slackened.

“Ain’t that against your bylaws, or somethin’?”

He managed to jab, quirking his brow, and you rolled your eyes at him, chewing the tablets in your mouth.

“They’re sugar pills, dumbass. I give ’em to the kids when they get hurt—placebo effect. You want one?”

You picked up the glass jar and tilted it towards him, but he just shook his head, never taking his eyes off of your face. You rolled your eyes at him, stealing one more from the jar before tightening the lid back on and sliding it back onto the shelf.

You spun your chair back around to face him again, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him. He just stared right back, jaw set stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, mask impenetrable. You pursed your lips, stubborn enough to not want to break the silence that befell you. Joel finally cracked.

“You’re a long ways from California.”

His voice was gruff and husky, but even beneath the rough edge, you could make out a hint of familiar softness. You blinked at him.

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

You started, and the man’s brows furrowed more, indicating his confusion. You laughed incredulously.

“Twenty years, you’ve had to come up with a conversation starter, and that’s what you settle on? Jesus, Joel.”

You huffed, leaning back into your chair and reclining slightly. Joel’s jaw rippled at your mockery.

“Well, hell, forgive me for not meeting your expectations, darlin’.”

He expected you to fire back at him, to humor him with the witty back-and-forth banter that he’d missed so much, but you just sighed, sinking further back into your chair and shaking your head softly to yourself.

“Took you long enough to get here. I was startin’ to think you hadn’t gotten my message.”

Joel felt his heart skip a beat, and his guarded expression briefly exposed a look of realization.

“So it was you.”

You let out a humorless laugh, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, Joel, it was me. But I hope to God you kept that to yourself—Maria would kill me if she knew I’d contacted you.”

“Get the sense that she’s not my biggest fan.”

Joel grumbled, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. He was surprised to see your hardened eyes soften a bit, full of something resembling pity.

“She’s just—she’s protective. Tryin’ to keep me and Tommy safe.”

He tried not to read into your words too much, but he felt himself grow defensive.

“Safe. From me.”

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and drawing in a sigh in an attempt to maintain your composure.

“Well, you’ve certainly earned yourself quite the reputation, Mister Miller.”

You scoffed, and Joel felt his face fall slightly, his mouth turning into a frown.

“So you’ve heard about me, then?”

You still avoided his eyes, your own arms crossing over your chest.

“I mean, just things from Tommy, but I doubt he told me everything. Still, Maria—Maria doesn’t think you were the best role model for your brother.”

“And what do you think?”

Joel leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and you swallowed, opening your mouth to reply just as the door to the clinic abruptly slammed open, the bell nearly flying off the hinge from the sudden rattling. You and Joel immediately burst into action, and you raced out of the exam room to investigate the intrusion.

Joel paused behind you when you slowed, taking in a relieved deep breath when you realized there wasn’t an immediate threat. The young boy from earlier had barged in, tears trailing down his round, rosy cheeks as he stared up at you with a look of almost betrayal. His mom was attempting to catch her breath, standing in the doorway hunched over, and young girl was standing to her right, presumably her daughter, who looked to be barely older than ten.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,”

The mother began to explain, her hand pressed against her chest to try to regulate her breathing.

“We were heading back to the mess hall for movie night but Jenny made a comment to Ben about his splinter, and—”

“Why don’t you wan’ me to get better?”

Ben interrupted, more tears falling from his wide eyes as he pouted, holding up the index finger of his left hand to showcase the bandage that you had put there earlier.

You startled backwards.

“What are you talkin’ about, Ben? Of course I want you to get better, that’s my job.”

“Then why didn’t you use your powers on me?”

He stamped his foot in frustration, and Joel stood back, watching the scene unfold before him with furrowed brows. Your eyes snapped over to his older sister, Jenny, who was trying to hide her amused smile behind her hand. Finally, you knelt down in front of the young boy, who sniffled and avoided your eyes.

“You’re right, Ben, I totally forgot. I’m so sorry. Can I fix it now?”

You asked carefully, holding your hand out for him. He contemplated for a minute before nodding carefully, offering you his left finger extended in front of him. Joel felt a weight settle onto his chest as you carefully pressed your lips to the pad of his injured finger, making an exaggerated smooching sound as you pulled away. The young boy’s face immediately brightened, and you smiled at him.

“There! Did the magic kiss make it feel all better?”

You leaned down to look into his eyes, and he nodded at you happily before quickly turning back towards the door and running into his mother, clinging to her legs.

The woman smiled at you, both apologetically and gratefully.

“Thank you, Y/N, and again, I’m so sorry—”

You waved a dismissive hand.

“No worries, Beth. Seriously, it was my fault, I should’ve remembered. Thanks for the reminder, Jenny.”

You winked at the older girl teasingly, and she hid her face further behind her hand, biting her lip to hold in her laughter. As the family turned to leave, you shouted a reminder to them.

“Be careful on the benches in the mess hall! They haven’t been sanded well and I don’t want him to get any more splinters!”

The door shut behind them and Joel watched your shoulders immediately sag when they left, your lungs exhaling a long, exhausted sigh. When you turned around to go back into the office, you jolted slightly, as if you’d forgotten that Joel was there. He studied you carefully, analyzing you, and you hastily pushed past him and back into the exam room.

“Sorry about that. You know how toddlers are.”

You settled back into your office chair, but as the door clicked shut behind Joel, he remained standing, leaning back against the wood with his arms crossed. You were looking at some paperwork on your desk before your eyes lifted to glance at him. He remained stoic, silent, and you sighed.

“Ellie’s a cute kid. Reminds me of someone.”

You gauged his reaction, watching his muscles tense and his jaw clench at your admission, his eyes casting down to his feet. He didn’t respond—you decided not to push it.

“How’d you get stuck haulin’ the walking cure across the states?”

That caught his attention. He stood abruptly upright, his eyes widening as he stared at you, a brief look of panic rising in him.

“How—she told you?”

You made a motion for him to calm down.

“Relax, it’s fine, seriously. I saw her bite marks. Pretty fuckin’ wild, though.”

“Why’d she tell you?”

Joel seemed unsatisfied with your answer, taking an intimidating step towards you, his voice low and threatening. He seemed to be forgetting the fact that his fear tactics wouldn’t work on you.

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m easy to talk to. Good at makin’ people feel comfortable. Besides, she said she’d heard my name before. Apparently you talk in your sleep?”

Joel’s arms fell to his sides, his jaw clenching rhythmically and hands balling into fists. His eyes dropped to the floor, but you let out a short, bright laugh.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind. That’s actually one of the first things Tommy told me when we met back up.”

Joel threw his head back with a frustrated groan, particularly annoyed when he heard you cackling from your seated position in front of him, obviously deriving great pleasure from his discomfort. When you’d finished laughing, however, the mood quickly soured once again, his dark eyes fixing you within them carefully.

“You can’t say a word to anyone about it.”

“What, about you dreamin’ about me?”

“Y/N. You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about.”

He was practically growling at you, his eyes narrowed as he took another menacing step closer. You were getting fed up with his attempts at intimidation.

“I’m not gonna say anything, okay?”

“Swear to me.”

To your surprise, Joel leaned down and grabbed the arms of your office chair, spinning it so you were facing him completely. He leaned down in front of you, eyes level with yours, only a foot away as he challenged you silently with his gaze. Up close, he could see the jagged edges of the healed cut through your forehead, marring your perfect complexion.

“Swear to me, you won’t tell Maria, or anybody.”

You scoffed, surprising Joel by leaning closer towards him instead of away, not breaking eye contact as you fixed him with your own intense stare.

“I promise. Besides, you already know that I’m great at keepin’ secrets.”

He pulled away from you harshly, abruptly, your chair sliding back a few inches at his sudden release of its arms. You smirked to yourself, somewhat satisfied with your ability to still get under his skin, even after all this time.

“Now, go sit back down, and tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Joel opened his mouth the protest, but you pinned him down with a glare.

“Don’t. This is my town, Joel—you’re the outsider here, not me. Which means I get my answers first.”

He pursed his lips, trying to come up with some way to contradict you, but he knew deep down that you were right—you had the upper hand in this situation. Begrudgingly, Joel pushed himself back onto the table across from you, grunting with the effort as he settled back against the wall. You rolled your chair a bit closer to him, leaning back and watching him intently.

“Alright, then. Tell me the story about how the cowboy and the little firefly managed to survive their journey out West, searchin’ for a brother and a cure.”

Joel regarded you carefully, fighting the urge to correct you.

And searching for you.

Instead, he opened his mouth and began to speak.

Joel’s brows furrowed as you rejoined him on the gravel street from the house you had stopped by. Your arms were holding a variety of clothing items, pressed tightly to your chest as you nodded for him to follow you.

“What was that about?”

He asked, maintaining several feet of distance between the two of you as you lead him further away from the town square.

“Stopped by to see Mary-Ann. Her husband is about your size, and I figured you wouldn’t object to a new set ’a clothes.”

You jokingly looked him up and down, scrunching up your nose in disapproval at his current attire. Even with your teasing, Joel felt gratitude sneak up on him as he watched you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He spoke lowly, and your quick pace faltered slightly at the tenderness that breached the surface of his words. Your smile wavered.

“Yeah, I know. S’really not a big deal.”

You shrugged it off, refusing to expose any vulnerability to the man. You were bound and determined to keep your head up in the face of his sudden reappearance in your life—the last thing you needed was for Joel to think he still had power over you.

“What’d you trade for it? I’m sure there’s somethin’ I can—”

“Joel, s’fine.”

You snapped, harsher than you had intended. You sighed.

“I’m the town doctor, and I treat everyone and don’t expect anything in return, so when the time comes that I actually need somethin’, people are more often than not willing to help me out.”

He didn’t respond, and you continued your trek through the snow in silence. After a few more tense minutes, you reached house number 38, pausing when you saw light peeking through the curtains in a room upstairs, the window cracked to let cool air into the stale home.

“So, this is you. Ellie’s already upstairs, m’sure.”

You paused in front of the door, turning to face the man head-on. The familiarity of looking up at him like this, his brown eyes regarding you with undivided attention, filled you with a deep sense of melancholy. The proximity was dizzying. You refused to acknowledge the sensation.

You offered him the clothes in your arms—a fleece-lined burgundy flannel, a pair of jeans, boxers, socks, and an undershirt—and he accepted them gratefully.

“Tommy and Maria are right across the way, and... I’m, uh, right next door if you need anything.”

You tried to hide the resentment that soured your lips as you told him where your own home was located, and although he didn’t say it out loud, you saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes that you were, once again, neighbors. How serendipitous.

You hesitated, staring at the ground in between the gap of yours and Joel’s boots, contemplating. Finally, you figured you’d extend an olive branch.

“Listen—after you get cleaned up, if you wanted—I mean, I have to talk to Maria quick, but ’m probably gonna stay up for awhile, so if—you know, if you’re not too tired, I wouldn’t mind—”

“Thanks.”

Joel interrupted your senseless rambling, indicating that he understood your winded invitation for his company. You blew out a breath, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you met his eyes once more before stepping around him and closing the short distance to the house across the street. Joel watched as you walked away.

He was fuming, but his flaming hot anger was quickly tempered by a lingering sadness that threatened to consume him. Ellie had some fucking nerve—bringing up Sarah, trying to manipulate him into taking her the rest of the way. He felt nauseous, his jaw clenched tight as he sat on the edge of the bed in his own bedroom, his eyes flickering up to stare out the window that shrouded him in moonlight.

There was a cool breeze filtering in through the crack in the window, but when he looked out, he saw you. You were staring up at Ellie’s window, your hands buried in the pockets of your winter coat and your face painted with discomfort. It was only then that Joel realized Ellie’s window had been open, as well—how long had you been standing there? Had you heard everything?

Joel found himself rising, walking to stand up against the window. The movement caught your attention, your gaze briefly shifting as you made eye contact with him. The silvery-pink skin of your scar seemed translucent beneath the streetlights. You stared up at him, wordlessly confirming that yes, you’d heard every goddamned word before you turned and stomped over towards your own home, downtrodden and damaged.

He wasn’t consciously in control of his body as he swiped his jacket from the end of the mattress and descended the stairs, exiting the front door just in time to see yours slam shut. He swallowed, letting his exhale cloud out in front of him in the frigid air before he followed your snowy footsteps, pausing on your front porch and staring at the closed door.

You wouldn’t want him to join you anymore, surely—not after you’d been subjected to his aggression towards Ellie. Your silence signaled your disinterest, or so he told himself. Still, he hesitated. His calloused fingers brushed against the doorknob, twisting sharply, and to his surprise, the door swung open easily.

An olive branch.

The hallway before him was dark, but there was a soft yellow light emanating from deeper in your home, and he could hear the clanking of dishware and cutlery as he stepped into the threshold and closed the door behind him.

His heavy footsteps echoed loudly against the creaky wooden floor as he followed the sounds, the hallway opening up to a small kitchen where you were facing away from him, the smell of coffee filling Joel’s lungs as he breathed in deep. Real coffee. Even better than goddamn liquor.

He watched as you poured two mugs of the dark, steaming beverage, setting the pot back on the counter before picking up the mugs and turning to face him. You still didn’t speak, didn’t even look at him as you squeezed past him and set one mug on the end of the round wooden table before sitting down on the opposite side. Joel took the hint, the legs of the chair scraping the hardwood as he pulled it out and cautiously seated himself, his hands instinctually coming to cradle the warmth of the mug in front of him.

“You heard all that?”

He croaked.

You took a small sip, your head turned to stare out the back window and into the darkness of the trees outside. He waited, silently, for you to set the tone of the meeting. He watched your jaw clench as you finally opened your mouth the speak.

“Just—”

Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. There was grimace on your face, words wobbly and cautious.

“Just when I think you can’t possibly let me down even more, you somehow find a way.”

He scowled, but felt his beating heart sink, an anchor weighing him down at your confession. He didn’t say anything—just kept watching your face. Your features always betrayed you; you wore your heart on your sleeve. He could read every expression with practiced precision, and now, he studied you diligently.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes glossy and sad. He swallowed.

“You know, I—I stuck my neck out for you. To Maria. Even after all the shit I heard from Tommy, even after everything, I still thought—still thought there might be at least some trace of the man I knew all those years ago.”

“That was your first mistake.”

His gruff voice interjected, posture stiff.

“I ain’t the same person I was. And neither are you.”

“You’re wrong.”

You shook your head with such conviction that Joel faltered.

“I haven’t let the world harden me, Joel. I’ve grown, and I’ve learned, but I’m still the same person I’ve always been."

“You’re lucky to be alive, then. Naive to think that you can still care about people in a world that doesn’t care about you.”

You studied him, cold and calculated, before nodding sharply, a look of disapproval in your eyes. The scar that ran through your brow curled as you scowled.

“You just feel so fuckin’ sorry for yourself, don’t you?”

Joel was utterly taken aback, blinking once, then twice, before his eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You think—you think you can use your grief, your pain, to justify your actions, like it can excuse the person you’ve become. We don’t have control over anything that happens to us, Joel. Shit happens, and the world still spins. The only thing we do have control over is the way we react to it—how we choose to let it affect us.”

You were glaring daggers through him, resentment contorting your attractive features into a snarl, your scar pinched inward with the furrow of your brow.

“Ellie was right. You’re not the only person to lose someone. Your grief does not justify your actions. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done, Joel. The horrible things. You don’t get to say that the world forced you to become what you are—you made that choice. You let your grief consume you, you let it control your life, you let it turn you cold and callous and spiteful and cruel. That’s not the world, Joel—that was you."

He felt his chest grow tight, stunned by your words. There was anger growing in him, blazing hotter.

“Don’t—”

“No.”

You snapped, and Joel could see his own rage reflected in your eyes.

“No, Joel, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and listen to me, for once. I’ve waited too damn long to say it, and you at least owe me this.”

He silently seethed, fists clenching beneath the table as his leg began to bounce with anxiety.

“Look around you. All of these people—me, too—have suffered, have been put through so much, but we’re still here. We’re trying. We’re fighting. We found hope where there wasn’t any, in spite of everything, we’re choosin’ to move forward. So you can’t say that the only way to survive is to become as hateful as the world around you—there’s still good left.”

He stayed quiet, head silently shaking at your words. HIs jaw was rippling as it clenched. You grew silent for a moment, before hesitantly speaking up. Your tone was much softer, now.

“You’re not the only person to lose her, Joel. You’re not the only person who lost Sarah.”

His eyes snapped to you, his expression turning stony at the mention of his daughter. He despised the look of pity in your eyes—the look of sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry about Sarah, I can’t even begin to understand how hard it must’ve been for you to go through that, but—but you don’t get to own that. That grief doesn’t belong to you.”

You swallowed. There were tears welling in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Do you really think this is what she would’ve wanted you to become? What she—”

He stood abruptly, anger bubbling over and spewing from him as he shouted at you.

“You have no fucking right—”

“I loved her, too, Joel!”

You screamed, standing to meet him, and the man recoiled, flinching as tears began to track down your cheeks. You fumed.

“I loved Sarah, and I loved you, and I spent every single day missing you and hoping that by some godforsaken miracle, you—my family, was okay.”

My family. His gaze dropped to his shoes as he swallowed thickly.

“And when I heard from Tommy what had happened, I just—my heart broke for you, Joel, of course it did, but that little girl—I know she wasn’t mine, but I loved her, too. And don’t tell me I have no right to talk about her, because I did know her. I spent every day for five years with her, watchin’ her grow up, and—and I know it’s not the same, but you can’t take that from me. As hard as you try—as hard as you tried—to erase me, to push me away... I’ve never stopped loving you. Either of you.”

You turned away from him, trying to mask the pain that was erupting from deep within you—years and years of repressed anguish spilling from every pore.

Your back was to him, your shoulders rising and falling with shaky breaths, your sobs subdued by your willpower alone. As much as he tried to fight it, Joel felt guilt nesting within his soul.

“I know your world ended that night, I know you lost everything—but my world ended the night before.”

His lungs felt like they were shrinking.

“Y/N—”

“I’m gonna ask you something, Joel, and I already know the answer, but—but I need to hear you say it.”

You turned to face him once again, your sadness briefly replaced with cool calculation as you scrutinized him. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Did Sarah die that night, thinkin’ I just up and left without saying goodbye? Without knowing the truth?”

He felt the blood drain from his face, his mouth dry and tongue like sandpaper. He didn’t respond—he didn’t need to. You saw it in his eyes, the silent resignation, the shadow of shame that crested his features, the way his jaw rippled. You nodded slowly, the last of your tears drying up as you sniffed, and Joel could see the resentment slowly taking control.

“Darlin’, I—”

“When I saw you with Ellie, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was still a part of you in there that could love, that could care, that could be a father. Ellie is someone’s daughter, Joel. What if it was Sarah? You can’t—don’t turn your back on her. Please. Don’t—don’t break my heart again.”

He swallowed thickly, unable to meet your gaze. You shook your head again, an uncharacteristic calmness suddenly possessing you.

“I’ll pack you a bag and put it on my porch for you to take tomorrow morning. Some rations and clothes and everything you’ll need."

You started walking towards the door, as if ready to lead him out, and he shook his head frustratedly.

“I can't take her, Y/N, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

You clipped, a glare piercing through him as you opened up the front door for him.

“Because if you don’t, m’gonna have to listen to you bitch about how much you regret it for the rest ’a your sorry life, and I’m not willing to put up with that.”

True to your word, there was a new backpack sitting on your front step early the next morning. Joel knocked twice on your door, but if you were home, you ignored him. He rifled through the contents quickly—you’d even included a makeshift first-aid kit, a thermos of coffee and some grounds.

As he shouldered the bag, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It was a note, messily scrawled in your familiar handwriting. He felt his heart skip a beat as he reread it, over and over, his lips parted in shock.

Cowboy—

I kept my eyes closed, but five minutes is starting to feel more like twenty years—but I'm still waiting. I'll always be waiting for you, Joel.

Good luck. Maybe when you get back, you can hold up your end of the bargain. I've learned to be patient.

Your perpetual neighbor, Y/N

P.S. I'm sorry. And I forgive you.

You remembered.

TAGLIST: @spiidergirlsworld @canpillowscry @str84pedro @daddy-din @pedropascal-whore @pppmitt @thirdoffive @elliescumsl0t @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk (please comment to be added/removed)

[swiss-mrs]

EVERMORE: Chapter Two

Eddie Munson Fic - Evermore Directory - Word Count: 8.8k

prev - next

Eddie woke up to the feeling of someone gently shaking his shoulder. He groans, rolling over, away from the hand, “Five minutes, Wayne.”

“I-It's Junior, your roommate. It's, uh, it's almost time to start classes.” With his back facing his new roomie, Eddie's eyes shoot open. He's immediately greeted with the new wall. His eyes move around, taking in his surroundings from his lying position. Eddie could hear Junior swallow a bit nervously, “My first class kind of aligns with yours. I-I could walk you to your class, i-if you want. You know, so you, uh, don't get lost.” Eddie sighs. So it begins. He shifts to get into a sitting position, propping himself on his hands behind him. He's met with the becoming familiar minty fresh, pristine sight of his roommate in his school uniform.

“Yeah, uh, thanks, Junior.” He reaches up to scratch his scalp, finding his curls a matted mess on his head. He sighs at the feeling.

“Yeah, of course, yeah, no problem. I'll, uh, I'll be down in the lobby. Just come down when you're ready. I’ve got about 20 minutes till my first class starts.” The younger gives Eddie a toothy grin, lingering by Eddie's bedside possibly a little too long. “Ok.” He says as if coming to the realization of his odd stall before turning on his heels and quickly exiting the room.

Another heavy sigh leaves Eddie as he plops back down on his bed. In any other circumstance, Eddie would care less for showing up to class, on time of all things, but since his roommate was showing him a kindness, he couldn't just not go.

Eddie groans loudly as he lets himself lazily slip off his bed, bringing his tangled comforter with him. He rolls over to push himself from his hands and knees to kneel, leaning back on his heels. The struggle to stand was a difficult battle to win against his blanket opponent, but he eventually managed to detangle himself and throw the jumbled thing back onto his bed without a second thought. He takes in a deep breath as he drags his feet along the floor of the room towards his bathroom.

Entering the bathroom, he begins his morning routine straight away, if you could call it one. Following his morning ‘bathroom break’ (for modesty’s sake), he washes his hands, brushes his teeth, then splashes water on his face, half asleep and grumpy throughout the entire process. After the third splash of cool water, he drags his hands down his face wiping away some excess water droplets and opens his eyes to look at himself in the mirror. He leans in close to the mirror and allows his eyes to take in every feature of his. His brown eyes have heavy bags beneath them and the lines on his face seem to have deepened overnight. No wonder his younger counterpart thought he was ‘old’. He wouldn’t have thought he was still technically a teenager either. His months of lack of sleep, late night adventures, and worsening health have really started to catch up with him.

Eddie brows knit together as his brain barely processes his own face. There’s a sudden urge to punch the glass in frustration, but instead, he lets his eyes fall from his face to daze off into the bottom of the mirror. He sighs, leaning away from the sink to roll his shoulders and straighten his back. He looks back at his barely recognizable reflection with a hardened expression. “Here we go, Munson.” He walks over to the small, stand-in shower on the other side of the toilet that's next to the sink and grabs the detachable handle before starting the water. He leans his head over the drain and soaks his hair, running his hands through some knots to try and quickly detangle the worst parts. He winces when his fingers get caught on a few snags, but he quite frankly couldn’t be bothered to do a better job in the limited amount of time.

Another deep sigh racks through his lungs as he grabs the dial to turn the water off, letting the shower head fall to dangle in the shower. He squeezes some water from his hair before lifting his head up, the squeeze of his hair doing little to protect the collar of his t-shirt from getting soaked. He grabs the hem of his shirt to bring it up and over his face, using it as a makeshift towel for the remaining droplets. He squeezes the shirt around his hair a couple times before taking it completely off his head and grabbing a hair tie from the corner of the sink to gather his hair into a lazy bun at the back of his head. Due to the current damp nature of his hair, he was easily able to push most of his overgrown bangs back, but that didn’t stop a few shorter strands from slipping out of the grip. Eddie chooses to ignore his reflection this time, just walking straight out of the bathroom once the hair tie is wrapped around his hair.

A chill runs down his spine as his newly naked torso is hit with the cool air of the main room. He shakes off the chill and makes his way over to his desk where he laid out one of his folded uniforms yesterday. He stands at the edge of his desk just staring down at the stripped uniform for a few moments before exhaling and getting back in motion. He slips out of his pajama pants and into the black and purple slacks, buttoning and zipping them up before tying them off with his belt and clipping his wallet chain onto a front loop. He slides his arms into the white button up. As his fingers work up the buttons, he glares down skeptically at his sweater vest options and black tie. He drops his hands to his sides, continuing to glare, before frowning, shaking his head, and turning to walk over to his dresser.

He sits on the edge of his messy bed as he puts on his socks and shoves his feet into his already loosely tied, white reeboks. He hops up and grabs his suit jacket from his desk on his way to the door. He mistakenly glances over at Junior’s side, seeing the bedding on his roommate’s half tucked in so neatly you could bounce a quarter off it. Eddie tightens his lips and sighs, letting his shoulders fall. He slips his arms into the jacket as he backtracks to his bed, grabbing the comforter and flailing it out to drape over the mess of sheets and pillows below. It’s a little crooked, but, to Eddie, it’ll do.

Eddie turns to head back towards the door but, again, lets his eyes wander. His gaze lands on the ‘welcome basket’ sitting in the middle of his desk. His feet slow as he passes, and his head falls backward. He groans at the ceiling before turning to walk back to his desk. He winces at the god forsaken basket as it glares back up at him. He rolls his eyes as he bends down to grab the flimsy, half empty backpack he arrived with, reaching in the basket to stuff an extra notebook and a fresh pack of mechanical pencils into the bag, leaving the highlighters, markers, pens, and whatever else was in the basket. Eddie had never gone to school with more than a single composition book that was falling at the seam and a singular black pen, but considering that trusty composition book only had about 4 free pages left and his pen had about a day left of ink remaining, he figured he might as well take advantage of the free materials.

He zips up the backpack and throws one strap over his shoulder. Just then, he notices the lonely key at the edge of the desk, in front of the basket, with a sticky note, presumably from Junior. ‘Room Key’ it read. Eddie pinches his fingers around it to lift it off the desk. He holds it up to his face, examining it for a moment before shrugging and walking to the door, this time successfully exiting the room. He locks the door behind him and threads the key through the clip on his pants for safe keeping.

“There he is!” Junior announces as Eddie walks out of the elevator. Eddie raises a brow at the overly enthusiastic announcement that seems a bit out of character for his roommate. A couple passing students turn their heads to look in Junior’s direction thanks to his sudden outburst. Junior’s expression morphs into one of embarrassment the second the odd greeting leaves his lips. He completely stills as he instantly reflects on the moment. Eddie can’t contain the tight-lipped grin he lets escape. Junior’s young teen awkwardness was oddly charming and endearing. Eddie couldn’t help but be amused.

“Morning to you too, Junior.” A small series of amused huffs leave Eddie’s nose as the younger boy visibly shrinks back into his nerve filled persona.

“Good morning.” He replies, this time in a much quieter voice. “Ready to go?” He asks, turning to walk towards the dorm building’s exit before Eddie can reply. Eddie softly chuckles again to himself, shaking his head at Junior before following.

Junior quickly goes into his normal rambling self as they walk. Eddie quickly learns to tune Junior’s mindless rambling out as he’s not providing any new or important information. In turn, Eddie just dazes off to look at his surroundings as he lets Junior lead him to what he assumes is his first class.

The first thing Eddie notes is how different the campus looks in normal daylight, now that the initial shock of a new environment has worn off. All last night, he had taken it upon himself to explore Nevermore, but it was in the Upside Down version. The historical, castle-like structures were no longer covered in a dusty blue tinge. Even in the morning, the campus was lively. There were students talking and laughing as they walked to their classes together. The fullness of this world was delightfully suffocating. Eddie had conflicting feelings within. One wolf craved this liveliness. It was familiar and enchanting, words he surely would have never used to describe high school, especially not at 8 in the morning. In extreme contrast, the other wolf wanted to watch it all burn. Though he was notorious for being a pessimistic loner, or at least known for posing as one, he never had felt an intense lust for destruction like this before. That ich in the back of his brain returned, launching him into a nihilistic outlook on humanity. What pitiful beings, lost without structure, divided. Shameful. His mind soon flooded with visions of a world, one where there was no severance between the Upside Down.

The opposing ideals confused Eddie, but the nihilist frightened him beyond reason. He knew that he would never think in such a way, but he just did. He shakes his head in an attempt to slam the metaphorical door closed on the wolf gnawing at its weakening enclosure. “Intro to More, Arcane 101, the beginner class for beginners.” Junior’s voice brings Eddie back to reality. 

Eddie’s gaze shifts down to Junior. It’s written on Junior’s face that he’s seconds away from asking Eddie if he’s okay, but Eddie doesn’t give the boy a chance. “Thanks.” He mutters before walking straight through the door with letters on the window glass reading ‘Intro to More’. Junior lifts a finger to stutter something out, but the door closes on him before he’s able to get a word to form.

As soon as Eddie enters the class, he’s greeted with two familiar faces, one of the teenage girl and one of the young boy he’d arrived with the day prior. Eddie glances up at the clock that hung on the wall across from the door. Of course, even when I’m early, I’m still late. He huffs a humorless laugh and walks towards the back. The two sat with three desks between them but in the same row.  Since it was obvious that there wouldn’t be many, if any, other students in the class, Eddie opted to not go to his usual back-of-class seat and instead sat between the two but two rows behind. Besides his initial entrance, the teenage girl didn’t bother to give Eddie another glance, but the younger boy had no obvious shame about staring at Eddie as he walked to his seat. As Eddie settled into the desk, he finally made eye contact with the kid. As soon as their eyes connected, though, the kid turned away in a failed attempt to ‘act natural’. Eddie just continued to squint at the back of the young boy’s head.

Not a second later, the classroom door opens again, catching the attention of all three students. “Oo, I wasn’t expecting to be the last to arrive.” Their horned professor announces humbly. He offers a small but kind smile to the students as he makes his way over to his wooden desk at the front corner of the class. He leans down to set his dark, leather briefcase beside his desk before standing back up and shrugging off his rich, brown-red wool coat to drape it over the back of his office chair. He unravels the cream colored scarf from around his neck and lays it over his coat. He unbuttoned the single button, keeping his brown, tweed blazer closed, revealing a white button-down shirt and dark red necktie. His tie was perfectly centered and silky, held in place by a tie pin. The influence he had on his son was incredibly obvious. Eddie had to bite back a grin at the resemblance. Though it was hard to imagine, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if his professor was as awkward as Junior in his younger years.

Mr. Shaw walks over to stand front and center. He places his hands on his hips with a pleased sigh. “Well, good morning, everyone. It’s nice to see you all again.” His gaze shifts to each student as he greets them, but the only one to give him a response is the young boy.

“Good… morning.” His small voice drops off once he realizes his voice is the only one speaking. The older man’s eyes soften as he offers the young boy a small smile of encouragement.

“Good morning, Mr. Fernandez. Tell me, which do you prefer, Anthony or Tony?” He shines his pearly smile at the youngest of the three students.

“E-either one. I don’t mind.” The young boy’s voice replies shyly. The man tilts his head down in a small nod of acknowledgement before turning to the blonde teenager, failing in her attempts to disappear behind her hair.

“Good morning to you as well, Ms. Walker.-”

“Olivia.” She cuts him off. As if realizing she just cut off her teacher, she lifts her head with a nervous look. “I go by Olivia… sir.” She tries course correcting. He only nods in response, obviously not bothered or upset by her interruption. His gaze shifts to the eldest student in the room.

“And, as established, Eddie,” He gives him a warm grin. “Welcome to your first class.” He tilts his head in another short nod before addressing everyone. “Welcome, everyone, to Intro to More. In case you’ve forgotten, I am Professor Gardnal Shaw. Please feel welcome to address me as Professor, Teacher, Mr. Shaw, Mr. Gardnal, Shaw, or some variant of those options. I just ask that you do not call me by my first name without formalities as that would feel unprofessional on my part.” He brings up a hand to rest it on his chest in emphasis. He then clasps his hand in front of his lap to continue his introduction, “This class is set up a bit different from your other classes. For starters, it is extremely long in comparison, so I suggest we get comfortable with each other and fast.” He gives a genuine smile, trying to add some humor, garnering a consistent reaction, or rather lack thereof, but he doesn’t let it phase him. “Intro to More is technically scheduled to be from 8:30am to 10:20am, but as this is also your homeroom, which is scheduled from 10:30am to 12:30pm, we're together for quite some time. Now, as I have three pairs of eyebrows on my ceiling, I will clarify that the schedule will be adjusted as needed.” He chuckles, seeing the transition from shock to acceptance pass the students’ faces. “It may seem extreme, but, from experience, I know the time will fly by before you know it. As we introduce some new subjects to you all, I encourage questions. I am pretty skilled at retracing my steps, so I do not mind interruptions. If a question comes up, please feel free to ask as it is in your mind. I want to ensure we leave nothing unanswered. Now, obviously, I understand that if you do not feel comfortable asking certain questions aloud, write it down as it comes up, and we can discuss it privately.” Shaw still has yet to get any real verbal response from anyone, but he still pauses to leave room in case anyone builds the confidence to speak up. “Well,” He drops his hands to shift them to clasp behind his back as he begins to pace the front of the class. “To start us off, how about I tell you all a little about me. Are any of you already familiar with what I am?” He pauses both his words and his steps.

Eddie, Anthony, and Olivia exchange small glances, silently wondering if anyone will answer with a yes. When none of them speak up, they all turn their glances back to their teacher. He raises a brow, allowing a few more beats of silence to pass to see if anyone will respond before continuing his paces. “No worries. To be fair, we’re not too common and not very easy to hide.” He lifts a hand to motion towards the twisting horns atop his head. Eddie huffs a short laugh through his nose in response to the obvious. It goes ignored by the professor as he continues with his lesson. “If we want to look at this from a more scientific or biological stance,” He raises a brow as he paces, waving his hand as he talks, “we would all be under the Human/Humanoid Genus, and my species would be classified under Horned Beings. There are several types of humans or human-like creatures with horns. I'm sure you've heard of Satyrs, Fauns, or even the tale of the most famous Minotaur.” He lifts his head to check if any of these resonated with his students. Eddie's ears perked up a little at the mention of mythological creatures. Well, that's just it. These creatures aren't mythical. “I'm specifically known as what would be called a tiefling.”

At this announcement, Eddie sat up in his seat, completely at attention. He couldn't believe his ears. A tiefling. In the flesh?! Never in his life had he suspected his fantasy world merging into a classroom setting, outside of reiterated demonization of the game. The professor immediately noticed the sudden change and piqued interest from one of his students in particular, but instead of calling him out, he continued, “If any of you are familiar with the cult classic tabletop game, Dungeons and Dragons, you may have heard of me before. We are a pretty popular species in-game.” He grins, a bit smug. He easily reads the realization in Eddie’s eyes. Gardnal chuckles and continues his paces again. “We are probably the closest to humans out of all Horned Creatures.” As he walks back and forth, he clasps his hands behind his back once again. “Unfortunately, unlike our immortalized popularity within the game, we are few and far between. Not nearly as we once were, but sadly, I could say that about almost any hybrid or human-like creature.” He concludes with a sad smile.

The youngest student, Anthony, lifts his hand a bit hesitant but high nonetheless. The professor nods at the child, “Yes, Mr. Fernandez?”

The boy clears his throat a little awkwardly, bringing his hand down to twiddle his thumbs, “S-sorry to interrupt, b-but what is a tiefling?”

Gardnal gives him a gentle smile with a shake of his head. “No need to apologize. I invited questions.” He pauses briefly, turning his head to address the other two students, “Are either of you familiar with tiefling-kind?” He raises a brow, eyeing Eddie. Though this is a topic that Eddie knows like the back of his hand, he’s still not going to be one to speak up as an actual participant in class, so he keeps silent, switching his gaze abruptly to absolutely anything else in the classroom.

There’s a beat of silence before Professor Shaw continues to speak. He conclusively sighs, a bit disappointed at the lack of participation. “We are descendants of humans and devils. Now, please do not let that scare you. We are not the half-devils in the biblical sense of ‘The Devil’,” He raises his hands to place air-quotes around the words, “As we are so far down the line from our ‘devil’ ancestry, we are most akin to human, and like humans, there is good and evil in all of us, some more than others. But essentially, we are human born with a supernatural or ‘otherworldly’ heritage.” He begins his pacing again as he continues, “Thanks to said heritage, we are one of the few beings who naturally possess magic and magical powers. Full-blooded humans, for example, are usually able to attain some level of wizardry with the proper study and practice, but it is not something humans are born with unless they have something like tiefling or elven blood in their family tree.” Elven?!

At this mention, Eddie tried his best to contain himself. Did he just casually confirm the existence of both tieflings and elves in the same breath?! It is a bit difficult for Eddie to physically contain himself, his wide eyes quickly looking down to try and hide behind the curtain of his hair. “Well, that is just a little bit about me, breaking the ice. Would anyone else like to talk a little about themselves?” An awkward silence fills the room, the three students exchanging side-eyed glances. Gardnal stands front and center with his hands clasped and resting in front of his lap, awaiting a volunteer.

Hesitantly, a small, tan hand raises for the second time. “Yes, Mr. Anthony. Would you like to tell us a little about yourself?” Gardnal offers him a warm smile. The youngest of the group avoids everyone’s eyes with an almost worried look.

“Y-yes, well, I’m a werewolf?” He states sounding a bit unsure of himself. Eddie’s brows shoot up. He quickly glances over at the girl expecting to see a similarly shocked reaction only to find a blank expression. His eyes go back to the boy as he continues speaking. “I-I turned thirteen earlier this year. I've been around werewolves my whole life, but this is the first time I've been around so many different Arcane in real life. Others in my pack have attended Nevermore, and had good things to say, so my parents thought it would be a good experience for me here. It’s, uh, pretty sweet, uh, so far. Yeah…” The light brown, chunky spiral curls atop his head bounce slightly as he quickly looks to the peers around him with a tight, timid grin before quickly looking back down to his hands that were fidgeting under his desk.

“Thank you so much for that introduction, Anthony.” Gardnal praises, gaining a more genuine but still shy smile from the kid. The elder's eyes turn to the remaining students, Eddie and Olivia, with an expecting gaze. There's another beat of silence as the two exchange a quick glance before the girl sighs and speaks up.

“I'm a witch, half-elven parents or whatever.” She says clear and blunt, but the weary look in her fleeting gaze gives away her obvious agitation. “I, uh, got shipped off after I ‘got caught’ accidentally doing magic.” Her eyes quickly glance over to the other students before going back to whatever is interesting on the wall. “My hometown is pretty religious or whatever, so I'm here to avoid things going downhill for me, at least until things blow off there.” The teen purses her lips as her leg bounces up and down anxiously, hating the attention on her. Gardnal gives her an understanding head nod and a small comforting grin.

“Thank you for sharing, Ms. Olivia. Unfortunately, you are not the first and won't be the last to seek sanctuary more than education here at Nevermore. I hope you find some solace here.” He allows for a short pause before turning his attention to Eddie, the last and final student.

Eddie's heart starts to speed up, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat now that he's the center of attention. “Mr. Eddie,” Gardnal starts, “That leaves you.” He states with an encouraging grin. He briefly unclasps his hands to gesture towards Eddie, “Please, introduce yourself a little.”

The youngest, Anthony, turns a little in his seat to stare back at Eddie with curious eyes. Eddie glances over to the girl who remained sat facing forward with her eyes still focused on something quite uninteresting in the distance. Eddie visibly tenses, clearing his throat a little, “Whatever you're comfortable with. It doesn't have to be much.” Gardnal adds, softly ushering Eddie to speak.

“Uh,” He starts, “Well, I'm Eddie.” Obviously. “I, uh, somewhat recently got some, uh, powers… I don't really come from any line of, uh,… supernatural beings?” He questions, unsure of how to navigate his words, “I'm, you know, really new to all of this, and I, uh, I never knew things of this magnitude really existed in real life, outside of DND, movies, and video games.” His leg begins anxiously bouncing. “But, um, needless to say, I'm, I guess, happy to be here, despite the, uh, circumstances.” He nods, signaling his awkward conclusion.

Gardnal gives him a soft smile and a nod. “Well, I'm glad you are here. I'm sure it is very difficult having to adjust, but there are plenty of people, myself included, that are here to help in any way we can. Welcome.” Eddie breathes out a strained chuckle, tapping his fingers on his desk, waiting for the focus on him to pass. He looks up to find Anthony still staring at him with an almost enamored look. Eddie briefly widens his eyes playfully, offering the kid a little smirk. Anthony's lips tighten as if holding in a giggle, quickly turning back to the front.

Eddie shakes his head with a little grin, changing his gaze to fall to his fingers still lightly drumming his tabletop. He's never known why, but he's just always been a force of gravity to younger kids. Something about him just intrigues the crap out of them, and who is he if not an entertainer.

Just like Professor Shaw said, time flew by.  For Eddie, the entire time with Mr. Shaw was quite the lore dump. As much as he gathered, he is what is known as an Acquirer in the ‘Arcane World’. Simply put, he was not born into this hidden world. He acquired his skill, powers, mutation from an outside source, an unnatural one. It's fairly uncommon, but nonetheless is nothing new. Though, the examples of Acquirers in the past as stated by Mr. Shaw didn't really resemble Eddie's exact situation. All of them were either bitten or were the result of spells, potions, or experiments. Eddie made a mental note to ask more questions in private at another time.

Alongside some general information and basic terminology, he also learned a bit of history about Jericho and Nevermore. Apparently, Eddie is, in fact, not the first person to be sent to Nevermore under his circumstance. There have been many before him and many current attendees who were sent by some government or legal decree, and he most likely will not be the last. Upon learning that, Eddie couldn't help but feel the slightest bit at ease that he's not a special exception or just someone else's problem. He actually might be at the right place, here at Nevermore.

Before long, a bell rang throughout the classroom. Gardnal looks down at his wrist watch, “Alright, look at that. 12:30. Time for lunch!” He announces, clasping his hands together, smiling brightly at his students. At this announcement, Olivia the Elven Witch is the first to break, grabbing her things and standing as Mr. Shaw continues his farewells. “Please take a look at your schedules to ensure you're going to the right place for your next class after lunch. If you need any assistance, please do not be shy! Sir Matthew shares the same lunch period as you all and should be readily available.” The teenage girl is headed out the door by the time Eddie and The Little Wolf are standing from their seats. “If all else fails, you know where to find me!” Gardnal completes.

Before Eddie can make his way to the teacher's desk, Anthony beats him to it, asking a question. Eddie takes this as a sign to leave, deciding he'll have another chance to ask followup questions later. There's still about eight more weeks left in this quarter.

Eddie makes his way into the semi-busy hall, looking left and right, trying to remember the direction of the cafeteria before ultimately heading left, the direction Junior initially led him from. Thankfully, he doesn't make it ten steps before his name is called out from behind him, “Eddie!” He turns over his shoulder to find Junior jogging towards him, waving him down wildly as if he wasn't already easy to spot.

Eddie offers Junior a brief head nod, speaking up once he's a bit closer, “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Junior lets out, heaving slightly. Eddie eyes the kid up and down amused. Junior takes a deep breath before continuing, “Hey, you heading to lunch? I'm going to grab some food before heading to Slayers. I can walk you to the café.” He offers.

Eddie's brows lift a bit. His brain was swirling with so much new information that he nearly forgot about the 'real-life DND' club's lunch meets. “Yeah, man. That'd be great. Maybe, I can also tag along and check out your club.” Junior's eyes widen.

“Oh! Uh, I mean, yeah, uh,” The two begin walking out of the building and towards the café, “Yeah, you're more than welcome to come check it out, but, uh, remember, I mean, I don't know. We, uh, we're not the most popular-”

“So you've said, roomie.” Eddie cuts him off, “And like I said, I don't care.” He states firmly, putting on his authoritative persona, instantly dominating over Junior. “I'm not too fond of popularity myself.” He says matter-of-factly as his eyes roam the different groups of friends passing them. “I want to check the club out.”

Junior submits, simply nodding in return with a meek, “Okay.”

They navigate through campus easily, reaching the café to grab some food before exiting the building and heading to the place Eddie saw yesterday. He allows Junior to lead him around the less populated area of campus, between the café and South dorm building.

Just behind the cafeteria was a long set of stone stairs, the ones Eddie saw other members walking down before. The stairs wind around to create a safe path down the relatively small cliff side, small enough to make your way down within a minute or two but tall enough that you would be seriously injured if not for the stairs down.

On the way down, Eddie could hear the cinematic sound of clashing metal with the occasional grunt or barked out order to ‘fix your form!’. Catching a glimpse as he looks up from where his sneakers meet stone, he was in awe at the scene. It was identical to yesterday's lunch, but without the glass protection of the window, it was both much more real and surreal.

Eddie has never actually seen anyone fighting with such weaponry in real life before, much less with such levels of skill. His mind could barely consume what his eyes were feeding it, and there you were, standing on top of your boulder in all your glory.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and on the plush grass below, Eddie could really take you in. Miscellaneous stands of your hair were blowing gently in the autumn wind, the afternoon sun peaking out a tad from above, the clouds and building providing some shade but leaving just enough rays to cast a glow on your skin. Your eyes were focused on the sparring club members beneath you, your right hand woman claiming her spot next to you on the grass.

About halfway to the circle of students, a girl's voice disturbs Eddie's trance, “Junior, Hey!” Eddie's eyes find the source of the voice, a younger girl, seemingly more so closer in age to Junior than Eddie. She has eyes so light brown they nearly appear orange and blonde waves down to her waist. Her eyes were solely focused on Junior and she held a huge smile on her face.

Meeting them halfway, she stops right in front of Junior. They exchange an awkward silence filled with blushing eyes before the girl's eyes find Eddie. The shift from an almost frightened silent Junior to a flustered one is painfully evident. “Who's this?” she asks innocently.

Junior stumbles over his own tongue before finally providing a clear answer, “Eddie. This is Eddie, my new roommate.” He clears his throat, “He, uh, he's, uh, interested in Slayers and wanted to tag along.” Eddie lifts a hand from his food tray with a wordless greeting, offering a tight grin.

“Oh! That's wonderful!” She says cheerily, “I'm Neeva. Nice to meet you!” She waves with an adorable smile that makes her eyes squint nearly closed. She continues before Eddie can say anything back, “Here, you can sit with me.” She gestures to follow her before turning and walking in the direction she came.

Junior's shoulders visibly tense as his grip on his food tray tightens. Eddie smirks, chuckling a bit, “We following your girlfriend or no?” He states, breaking Junior out of his frozen state. He immediately begins walking as he glances over his shoulder, speaking to Eddie but not making eye contact.

“Sh-She's not my g-girlfriend.” Eddie chuckles.

“Whatever you say, man.”

They follow Neeva to her seat on some sitting rocks a few feet to the right of the boulder and sparring area. Both Eddie and Junior start eating as soon as they sit down. Eddie can't keep himself from staring up at you, imagination running wild. Jesus, I need to lay off the adventure-romance books. He shakes his head to try and bring himself down to reality. “So!” Eddie looks over passed Junior and at Neeva who both sit to his left. “What grade are you? What kind of powers do you have?” Neeva questions immediately.

As he chews, Eddie can tell from the look on her face and brightness in her eyes that she's full of curiosity, absolutely zero malice. Though she's absolutely precious, he doesn't really know how to answer her questions fully. He swallows the good in his mouth before starting, “According to my schedule, I'm in 12th grade.” He chuckles, “I, uh, I'm an, uh, Acquirer? Just learned that term today. I'm a bit out of the norm, so I'm still learning my, uh, powers.” He answers as best as he can.

Neeva nods, taking in his words with an eye squint. “Hm,” she puffs out with a pouted lip and furrowed brows, “Well, I'm sure you have Specializations on your schedule somewhere to help figure out all you can do.” Eddie hums and nods in confirmation, again swallowing the food he was chewing before speaking back up.

“Yeah, yeah I think I have that class on Tuesdays and Fridays. I also have Intro to Transmutation if that helps at all.” He chuckles, putting another bite into his mouth.

“Oooo, a werecreature! So cool!” Before she can say anything else, a melodic sounding whistle interrupts them, catching everyone's attention with ease.

Eddie looks up to find you've stepped down from your vantage point and now stand on the grass in front of all the gathered members. Junior, Neeva, and Eddie remain seated behind the rows of standing members in the circle. It was at this moment that Eddie got his first real taste of your voice. “Okay, everyone. Brilliant work as always guys.” You gesture to the few who were sparring. They bow their heads in response before you continue addressing the entire group, “As we are now in week three of fall quarter, we are about halfway into our introductory quest.” You boast with a smile and an excited light in your eyes. You continue on about the next objectives of the after-school meeting, but your words don’t quite meet Eddie’s ears.

To Eddie, the rest of the world seemed to fall away from you two, highlighting you and only you. Even on such an overcast day, you appeared to be glowing. Your skin looked smooth and velvety. Your eyes held a mild, supernatural glow. The untamed fly aways around your face blew in the wind. You were so passionate and composed. Your demeanor oozed with the grace and alluring confidence of a true leader. Eddie couldn’t stop himself from feeling a strong pull in his chest towards you. He found himself placing his half full tray on the rock next to him and standing, walking a tad bit closer to you until he stood just behind the crowd you’d gathered. He has a curious, wondrous expression on his face, enamored by your presence.

Before he knew it, your speech came to an end and Eddie was being brought out of his trance by the cheers and applause of those around him. The small blonde girl, Neeva, seems to pop out of nowhere, suddenly at Eddie’s side, “You should introduce yourself!” Eddie jumps at her voice, eyes ripping away from you and down to the shorter girl. “Any aspiring member has to introduce themselves to the leader properly so they can be assigned a unit.” She explains with an adorably determined pout. Eddie raises a brow.

“A unit?” Neeva nods excitedly, returning to her peppy self as Junior walks up to them.

“Yeah, a unit!” Neeva is quick to look to Junior with wide eyes and a smile, “Junior and I are both assigned to S&R,” she turns to place her attention back on Eddie, “That stands for Survey and Relay, but there’s also,” she lifts a hand to start counting off, “Strategy, Attack Team, and also Generals.” Eddie nods, but it’s mainly out of politeness as he has no time to ask further questions before she continues, “At the top of us all is Sire!” She then looks over and points to you. Eddie turns his attention to your direction. Your back is facing them as you talk with a smaller group of other club members. Without much effort, Eddie becomes fixated on you once more. Sire… “Sire’s been the head of Slayers for three years. The club almost went extinct three years ago until they stepped up and rebuilt the club to be stronger than ever.” Neeva boasts with obvious admiration.

At this point, most of the members have dispersed to eat lunch with the time they have left, leaving you and who Eddie assumed was your right hand man, or wo-man. You lift your head, catching Eddie’s gaze. You offer a small smile before saying something to the brunette next to you before you both start walking towards the trio.

Eddie’s eyes visibly widened in panic. “Ooo, here she comes!” Neeva says happily, waving obnoxiously with a wide smile. You chuckle to yourself, waving back at the little blonde girl. Once you are within two paces of them, Neeva and Junior make a dramatic scene, placing their hands over their hearts and bowing a full 90 degrees. “Sire.” They announce in unison. Eddie’s eyes open impossibly wider as he’s taken aback by the gesture.

“Neeva, Junior.” You nod in acknowledgment as they straighten up. Eddie, confused as all hell, remains still. Neeva not-so-subtly nudges Junior to get him to speak up after a beat of silence.

“T-this is Eddie.” You look between Junior and Eddie with a kind smile. Somewhere in Eddie’s mind he felt a bit embarrassed. Was he supposed to bow? What was that? Should he bow? You don’t seem mad about his lack of dramatics. S-should I bow?

You smile a bit wider. His inner turmoil was pretty plain to see. Though it read a little charming, he felt a tad bit petrified. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Eddie.” You even introduce yourself with a certain regal poise Eddie could never have imagined to experience in person. “What brings you here?” Neeva and Junior look up to Eddie in unison as everyone waits for his response. With the sudden amount of eyes on him, he starts to fidget.

“Ah, you know,” he starts a bit awkwardly. He tilts his head and lifts his chin, having a difficult time keeping eye contact with you. “I just, uh, wanted to check it out.” He looks over to Junior to try and ground himself. “I just arrived here yesterday, and my roommate,” he says, reaching over Neeva and slapping a hand down on Junior’s shoulder. “Told me about your club, and it reminded me of my club back home.” He nods as if to affirm to himself that his response was good enough. You give him a small hum in response. You nod and look over to your second-in-command. She takes that as a queue, wordlessly leading Neeva and Junior away as you lead Eddie to walk with you.

The sudden alone time with you off-puts Eddie, stunning him for a second, but he is quick to jog up to meet your pace. He glances around at others as you two walk. Though you don’t seem to have any malintentions, the way people move around you is almost ominous. You don’t need to speak or even look at others for them to know what you ask of them. “Eddie,” You begin, successfully grabbing his attention again, “What grade are you in? Do you have any prior combat experience?” You pick your eyes up off the ground to look at him. His eyes continue to avoid you, looking at nothing in particular in the distance. As you wait for his response, you find yourself glancing him up and down, taking in his awkward, almost stumbling gait.

“I, uh,” He looks down with a squint, “I don’t really know.” You raise a brown and tilt your head.

“How come?” You ask softly. Eddie’s awkwardness doesn’t seem to lessen, but in his chest, his heart fluttered a bit at your gentle tone. He takes in a deep breath, sighing before continuing. He sucks his teeth.

“Well, I was, um, a senior back home, and I was supposed to graduate earlier this year, but, you know, things didn’t really work out.” Instead of pressing further, you only nod.

“And combat?” You ask as you close in on a large rock, turning to face him and hopping up to take a seat on the thing. Eddie bites his lips, eyes darting down and to the left as if recalling memories.

“Well,” He lifts his eyes, briefly catching yours before fixating on anything else, “I know how to throw a punch, if that counts.” He breathes out a huff of a laugh, feeling a bit awkward knowing that the context of any fight he’s ever been in was not really ‘heroic’ by any means. You offer a small nod and understanding pout.

“I guess I can work with that.” You say with a slight grin, pulling your legs up to cross them, sitting fully on the large rock. You gently wave to the empty space beside you, offering Eddie to sit. He’s quick to follow your lead, sitting far back enough to have his dingy white sneakers swinging just above the ground, occasionally grazing the gravel below. He leans back on his hands, watching as his legs swing, quickly glancing at your clasped hands in your lap as he waits for your impending next question. “Do you have powers?” You’re quickly met with a short ‘heh’.

“I think so.” Your brows furrow as your head tilts slightly. Eddie sighs, letting his head fall back as he watches the clouds above for a few seconds. “I have yet to display anything noteworthy.” He half-lies.

“Noteworthy?”

“Well, uh, you know,” he drags out each word. “I don’t have super strength, no…” He lifts a hand to wiggle his fingers next to his head. “Mind reading…” With a quick jolt, he shoves his hand out in front of him. The sudden movement takes you aback. You look between his focused expression and his straining hand as he seemingly attempts to do something with pure will power. “No Force.” His voice mimics a struggle, before he eventually sighs, dropping his hand to his lap and his chin to his chest. You can’t help but grin, trying to contain a laugh at his odd antics. “I got nothin’, nada so far.” He lifts his head back up, shaking his bangs away from his eyes. “This superpowers and magic stuff was a lot easier when it wasn’t real.” You hum, nodding as it clicks.

“I see, so you’re, like, new new.” You raise a brow with a small smile. He finally turns to catch your gaze, a bit of nerves presenting themselves behind his eyes.

“Guilty.” You then take your turn to look away from him and out at the scene before you both. You nod, glancing back at him through the corner of your eyes.

“I can work with that.” You grin. His brows shoot up.

“Really?” You breathe out a small laugh, turning back to him.

“Of course. Anyone who is brave enough to join us,” You lazily gesture to Junior and Neeva who are sitting across the courtyard, pretending like they weren’t staring, “Especially after the amazing recruiting spiel Junior of all people, I’m sure, gave.” You say sarcastically. Eddie chuckles breathily.

“Yeah, he might need some PR training.” You both share a warm laugh. Eddie watches as you smile, a heady feeling coming on as he admires the happy crinkles in your face. “He did speak very highly of you, though.” He adds after reveling in a few seconds of comfortable normalcy. You turn to him with a curious brow.

“That so?” Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I really think that’s what sold me most.” He confesses, feeling emboldened. He lets the comment linger in the air for a bit before softening the potential tension build. “You know, that and the swords.” You laugh softly, Eddie’s grin widening at the sound, “What loser teenage boy wouldn’t jump at the chance to live out his nerdy fantasies?” He asks rhetorically, shrugging as he turns to look forward to nothing in particular.

“Yeah? Well, I guess you found your place, huh?” You add, a laugh still hinted at behind your words. Eddie turns back to you with the softest gaze you weren’t expecting.

“I hope so.”

Before anything else can be done or said, the bell announcement for the conclusion of lunch rings through the campus, cutting the moment short. Everyone besides two of the club members he saw you with the day before and Neeva and Junior immediately pack up and disperse. Neeva and Junior shuffle to appear busy while the other two older students talk with one another while they wait. “Well,” you start, uncrossing your legs and hopping off the sitting stone, “I think you’d be a great addition to Slayers, Eddie.” Your regal posture returns seamlessly. “We have a meet-up tonight, a practice course of sorts.” Eddie slides off the rock to stand and face you properly. “If you really are serious about joining, come by tonight.”

Though it has absolutely no romantic connotation behind it, barely even platonic, Eddie can’t help but feel a fire in him with how straight forward you are with the offer. He nods.

“Oh. Oh, yeah.” He scoffs, “I’ll be there.” He mentally curses the bell for interrupting whatever was building before despite knowing there’s no way in hell he’s ready for that ‘whatever’.

“Good.” You state with a gentle laugh. “I’ll let you go. You’ve got people waiting for you.” You raise a brow with a knowing grin, glancing over at Neeva and Junior. The only thing that would make them worse is if they tried ‘inconspicuous’ whistling. You walk towards the two other members, throwing a quick final glance and farewell to him before leaving the now barren courtyard.

As soon as you’re gone, Neeva and Junior come running up to Eddie, talking over one another and bombarding him with curiosities. He ignores them at first while they all head up the stairs to head back to the main campus. When there is an eventual break in their ramblings about three-fourths up the staircase, Eddie answers simply, “I got the okay.” Neeva squeals, jumping up and down as Junior sighs, relieved.

“This is so exciting!” Neeva exclaims at a pitch that would make dogs cry. Neeva goes back to rambling about what Eddie can expect, but her words are so jumbled and unstructured that Eddie can barely comprehend she’s speaking English.

Before the three can get more than five steps away from the top of the staircase, a voice calls out to Eddie. Eddie and Junior both turn to the source of the call while Neeva just continues. Coming from the glass side doors of the cafeteria was Nevermore’s very own English Prince Charming, Matthew, waving him down. Junior wordlessly cuts off Neeva, pointing to Matthew, excusing both him and Neeva. They continue walking to their next classes, leaving Eddie behind with Matt. “Hey, man!” Matthew greets with a big smile, “How’s your first day of classes so far?” He turns to keep both him and Eddie walking.

“Peachy.” Eddie replies with a sarcastic grin reserved for moments like these. Matt sees right through it, deflating a bit, rolling his eyes.

“Bro, we’ve gone over this. I’m seriously trying to be a friend here.” Before Eddie can add any quips, Matthew is quick to continue, “I saw you with Slayers. Are you thinking of joining or did Junior drag you into it?” He asks with a joking tone. Eddie raises a brow, quickly getting defensive.

“I actually forced him to take me.” Eddie squints with a humorless grin. Matt raises his hands in surrender.

“I’m not here to criticize. It was just an observation. Sire, as they call her,” The mention of you grabs Eddie’s undivided attention, putting him on edge, ready to defend you. “She’s great.” He says earnestly, kind of catching Eddie off guard. He squints at the dark hair brit, searching for any resemblance of lies or malintent, but there is none. “You’d be in good hands, if you’re into what they do.” Matt’s eyes seem to soften at the topic of you. A silence falls between them as Eddie starts to become suspicious and admittedly a bit salty. What is that? “Despite the perceived ‘status’ you have of me, I’m really not a bad guy.” Matthew tries again. “I really just want to make sure that everyone I have under my wings, so to speak, is well taken care of.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You have everything you need?” Matthew continues, ignoring Eddie’s interruption. After a few beats, Eddie sighs like a defiant child.

“Yeah, man. I’m, uh, I’m good.” Matthew reminds Eddie so much of ‘King Steve’ with the way he carries himself, he can’t help keep walls up. Maybe he’ll give Matt the benefit of the doubt, all while staying behind his walls of course.

“Well,” Matt comes to a stop, prompting Eddie to do the same, “If you need help with studies or anything, really,” He gently pats Eddie’s shoulder, “You know where I live.” Matt give him a small smile before walking off.

Eddie stands there perplexed, glaring daggers into the short curls at the back of Matt’s head. The internal struggle of whether or not he will choose to trust Matt can wait. Why the fuck did he get all ‘🥺’ over her?

prev - next

Evermore Tag List (OPEN):

@avidreader73 @ohmeg @starmilks @madelynraemunson @mother-oshun @ali-r3n

Swisslist (General Tag List):

@rosecentury @solacedthistest

A/N: Sorry All! I got to the middle of this chapter and got terrible writer's block. I'm feelin' a bit back in the groove now, so hopefully I can get chapter three and beyond out a lot faster. 😅💕

[gunilslaugh]

i'm the anon from before who said you made me want to start my own blog..and i started one hehe!! i also have another request for you: i was wondering if you would write about how the heroes would react to you asking them to sing you to sleep !!

I'm so glad you started your own blog!

All members ;0 ^ 0;

Summary: Xdinary Heroes reaction to you asking them to sing you to sleep.

WC:~1k

Warning:grammar

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil

It was late at night. You and Gunil had already wished each other goodnight quite some time ago, but you still lie awake.You shifted your position yet again in hopes of finding a more comfortable one. 

“Can’t sleep?” Gunil’s voice suddenly perked your ears. You rolled over to face him, finding him already facing you. 

“Nope,” you grumbled. Gunil pulled you over to lay on his chest and began stroking your hair. His delicate action helped you relax, yet it still wasn’t enough to put you to sleep. “Can you sing me a song?” you requested. You feel the vibration of a laugh rumble through Guni’ls chest. 

“Will that help you sleep?” he questioned. You nodded against his chest. “Anything for you then,” he said before singing a gentle melody. He continued to run his fingers through your hair and before you knew it you were out like a light. Gunil presses a kiss to your head before joining you in sleepland. 

Jungsu

After having a very grueling morning that bled into the afternoon you were completely exhausted. Plopping down onto your couch as soon as you arrived back home and not moving since. Jungsu came home to find you in your plopped position on the couch. Faced down, one arm hanging over the edge, cheek pressed into the cushion, one leg bent and the other out straight. He shook his head at the sight coming over to you. 

“Tired?” He pokes your cheek with one of his fingers. 

“Extremely,” you answered. Jungsu motions for you to sit up. You groaned in protest, but sat up anyway. Jungsu takes a seat then guides down onto his lap. “Can you sing to me to sleep?” you say. 

“Of course,” he responds. Jungsu begins to sing a song and you let your eyes fall closed. Jungsu has one of his hands resting on your stomach, finger drumming to the beat of the song. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into slumber. 

Gaon/Jiseok

It was one of those nights where it seemed like your brain just wouldn’t shut up. A mess of jumbled thoughts keeping you from getting a good night's rest. You let out a huff in annoyance. 

“What’s wrong?” Jiseok quizzed you. He hadn’t gone to bed yet. Phone still in his hand, probably playing some type of game. 

“Can’t sleep, brain won’t shut up,” you informed him, voice laced with annoyance. 

“Can I do anything?” he offered. He put his phone away, setting it on the nightstand located beside the bed. 

“Can you sing for me?” you requested.

“Yeah, I think I can do that.” He reached a hand out to ruffle your hair. You smack his hand away, but he instead catches your hand and laces it with his. He repositions himself on the bed then pulls you against him. Jiseok begins to sing lightly, the melody effectively silencing your brain. You’re finally able to find sleep. Jiseok deems himself a lullaby master, then closes his eyes for the night. 

O.de/Seungmin

Climbing to your bed and making yourselves comfortable, you and Seungmin were ready to call it a night. However, there was one last thing you wanted. 

“Seungmin,” you say, getting his attention. 

“Yeah?” he answered, propping himself up with one of his arms to face your direction. 

“Can you sing me to sleep tonight?” you asked him. 

“I suppose I’m capable of doing that. Any particular reason why?” he prompts. 

“I just love your voice,” you tell him. Your words were simple enough, but they still brought a great amount of happiness to Seungmin. 

“Come here.” Seungmin opened his arms for you to enter. You scooted over into his arms, making yourself comfortable in his embrace. Seungmin’s arms rested gently, yet securely around your waist. “Ready?” he checked. You nodded. Seungmin started to sing a calm melody that was perfect for falling asleep to. It didn’t take long for your breathing to deepen, signifying that you were asleep. Seungmin pressed a kiss to your forehead wishing you a goodnight. 

Junhan/Hyeongjun

It has been a stressful day to say the least. Seemingly everything that could go wrong did go wrong. You couldn’t be more glad to be home. More than ready to put the worst of it behind you. Over dinner you ranted to Hyeongjun about your stressful day and he very sympathetically listened to you. 

Cuddling up to Hyeongjun’s side, you rested your head on his shoulder. Hyeongjun’s hand soothingly rubbed your back in circular motions. 

“Heyongjun can you sing for me please? Your voice is relaxing,” you say. Hyeongjun feels a bit shy. He’s not the most confident in his vocals, but he knows you had a rough day.

“Is there any particular song you want me to sing?” he questioned. You thought for a moment.

“moonlight by Taewoo,” you told him. Hyeongjun smiled while nodding. He began to sing the song, very effectively melting your stress away. It wasn’t long before you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Hyeongjun’s voice. He was glad to know that his voice brought you comfort. 

Jooyeon

Jooyeon was strumming away on his guitar, practicing some chords. It was late, the moon shone high in the night sky brightening up the night. You had just finished up some work that needed to be done. You stretched your limbs, definitely ready to get some sleep. The sound of resonating from Jooyeon’s guitar gave you an idea. 

“Jooyeon,” you called him. He stopped strumming, giving you his attention. 

“Can you sing me to sleep?” you asked. 

“What’s in it for me?” he played. You rolled your eyes. 

“Nevermind,” you stated, going to climb under the covers. 

“No,no I was just playing. I have an amazing voice, so I should use it to sing you the best lullaby ever.” He climbed into bed with you. “Now lay down,” he told you. You did and Jooyeon tucked you in. He began to sing to you, voice creating a tranquil environment that easily put you to sleep. At the end of the song Jooyeon noticed that you were asleep and pressed a kiss to your nose, before snuggling up next to you.

[respectthepetty]

I know you are our Deity of Colour and cinematography but every now and then you throw a prediction out there….. and you’re normally on the money with the outcome (or there about, let’s cheekily say 70%) but I wonder….. with Last twilight and the upcoming episode. Mhok has the same shirt on with Day that he has on when he is crying outside Days house.

At first I thought Mhok is crying about his sister, finally letting it out. But now I’m not so sure….. oh Colour Deity - please give me scenario ideas as I’m impatient for Friday! 🥹

Okay, Anon, I just finished watching last week's episode, and all I can think about is how Mork was ready to box August for upsetting Day because when people hurt Mork's loved ones, he attacks. Yet just like with Phojai, when Day told him to stop, Mork stopped.

So my brain might be jumbled, but you are asking me why I think Mork is crying outside of Day's house, no?

Because you think it is happening in this upcoming episode since "Mhok has the same shirt on with Day that he has on when he is crying outside Day's house." So you think this shirt is the same as above?

Because Mork is definitely crying outside of Day's house since the brick design is the same.

But would it really be in this upcoming episode? The previews have done a good job of showing the previews in order of how they'll unfold in the episode, and the shirt appears during the day, yet Mork is crying at night. So do we follow him all day? Would he really be at Day's house all day, just to cry outside of it? What would cause him to collapse in front of Day's house and cry like that?

But . . .

Day's friend visits him at home and his friend mentions the upcoming race,

so Mork helps Day find his running shoes?

BUT August shows up WHILE the friend is talking to Day since Mork is wearing the same shirt in all three.

And August, Day's former partner and fellow athlete, will naturally be chosen as the guide for the race (even though he shows up late to practice probably).

(Don't worry. Mork will be the guide runner.)

But it seems like Day might be wearing the same jacket and shirt as above when Mork asks him if he wants to eat out.

So they eat out?

(I don't think so. I think Mork is helping Day get ready to see August again pero that's just me.)

And Mork puts a little homosexual sunflower on Day's shoes as a present the next day to remind Day of him when he is running with August.

So all that is to say that either Mork does not cry this upcoming episode or . . . he is crying for Day.

Maybe Day while practicing with August finds out Mork saw August at the bar, and gets upset about it. Or maybe Mork finds out more information about Day's condition throughout the day. Or maybe August hurts Day somehow while practicing and if Mork is anything like me, If he can't fight 'em

he'll cry about it.

Regardless if Mork is crying in this upcoming episode or not, I don't see Mork crying for himself. He hasn't. He cries for others. If he were crying over Phojai, I don't think he would do it outside of Day's house, but if he was crying for Day, I think he would cry outside of the house, while Day is upset inside and not wanting to be comforted.

So my final answer is I have no idea when the tears are coming, but I think they are FOR Day so Day is inside upset, and Mork is outside upset for me.

*applying clown makeup now*