#i just realized my life is changing rapidly

[imaggots]

i understand the want to sleep naked in silk sheets in the cold. i wosh to be a cold piece of meat in a freezer thats not freezing

[cranberrymoons]

.

[winterzsurprise]

A New Beginning || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader

Summary: You tell Miguel that you're ready to have a child with him.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, breeding kink, unprotected sex, big dick Miguel, creampie, vaginal fingering, brief blowjob scene, soft sex that turned rough later on, Miguel kinda whimpered lol.

Period is gone and came the asexual lil shit who can't write smut anymore lmaooo. I have two other plots just waiting to be finished (something about being paralyzed by his venom and needy sex after a death scare) but aaaaaaaaaaa. This is so shit, I apologize lmao.

mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi cielo- my sky (correct me on this please)

“I think I’m ready.”

Miguel didn’t respond for the longest time, focused on frying the vegetables. Clearing your throat you tried again.

“Miguel? I think I’m ready.”

“For what exactly? What trouble are you brewing up again?”

Sensing his dedication towards completing his task, you grew doubtful of your decision of dropping the news to him. 

Miguel, always tuned in to your moods even without seeing you, immediately turned off the stove and turned to face you with crossed arms at your prolonged silence.

“Alright, what is it?”

Now seeing the permanent frown in his face, you wondered if he’s even as ready as you are. Being the leader of the inter-dimensional spider society and a chronic over-worker, you could see him putting his job first as the protector of spider people since he sometimes does it with you.

But you’ve seen how his eyes lingered a little too long on Mayday and Peter B whenever they visited. You’ve seen him replay clips of a future that doesn’t belong to him and watched him mourn over a child that never existed in this universe.

Having a kid with both of your features…

It doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.

“I’m just… thinking about kids you know?”

The twitch in his eyebrow betrayed his uninterested expression. “Oh? What about them?”

“I think I’m ready for one.”

Tensed silence immediately filled the room, locking your throat close as you waited for a change in his stance with bated breath. You saw the surprise flash in his eyes but he made no move to indicate his interest in the subject. 

If it wasn’t for Mayday, you wouldn’t have thought about bringing a child into a world where she'd have parents from two separate dimensions, both superhuman and known as saviors of the world. Not to mention, while being an active crime fighter in your own universes which is not an ideal occupation for a pregnant woman.

Even then, you had your IUD removed a few days ago when you returned to your world for a visit and only today did you guys had the time to bond.

As you linger in the silence, regret starts to crawl up your throat. Maybe it's a stupid decision after all...

His sigh sliced through the thick atmosphere before his voice did. “Are you sure?”

Miguel, no matter how unsure his voice sounded, had a hungry look in his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about it for so long and... I think I’m ready now.”

You swear you could hear the clock from the living room tick beside you as you wait in anticipation. 

tik!

tok!

tik!

tok!

tik!

Miguel reached behind to remove his apron, crumpling them like a paper ball and tossing them to the side before crossing the distance between the two of you with one large step, hands surging to cup your cheeks to pull you in for a deep kiss.

You melted in the soft plushies of his lips, hands rising to tangle themselves into his hair. 

His hands wandered down to your rear, tapping it rapidly and you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist before proceeding to walk blindly to the bedroom, relying solely on muscle memory.

Miguel’s lips melded with yours smoothly with years of experience, his taste familiar in your tongue. Your fingers combed through his hair, tugging him closer as the door opened behind you.

It didn't take long before you hit the softness of your bed. His body dwarfs yours in every way and the realization never fails to send jolts of pleasure down your spine.

There's greed and desperation in Miguel's hands as he tore through your shirt and bra, freeing your breasts that pebbled with goosebumps from the cold air. Despite the hunger and rush in his movements, his touch is the softest it has been in a long, long time since the needy sex from months ago after a death scare.

His fingers found your stiff nubs and pinched them, sending sparks crawling over your body, stirring your nerve endings awake. Miguel's lips parts from yours to pepper kisses down your skin, leaving warmth in its wake.

You quickly made work of his top, pushing it over his head before he latched onto your skin once more like a bloodsucker.

"You're so pretty, mi cielo." He groaned, kneading your mounds together. "I lose my mind just thinking about your tits growing full with milk for our kid." 

You couldn't suppress the shudder racking your body at the mention of having your own child, together. A low moan left your lips and Miguel's hand wandered lower to tug on the bands of your shorts and underwear.

"You don't mind this one, yeah?"

"Rip it off."

He didn't need to hear it twice, the sound of fabrics tearing off into two echoed in the room and plant both your legs on either side of him, leaving you bare for him to see. Sitting back on his heels, he admired his work as he caressed your inner thighs with small circles, a promise of what to come.

"As much as I want to eat you up, I want to see you falling apart my dick more."

You nod feverishly, sighing as deft fingers found your clit to roll in tight circles, occasionally scooping down to spread your wetness around your folds. Heat explodes from your abdomen, spreading across your body as pleasure slowly ricochets inside you.

His finger enters you, curling up to caress the spongy part of your walls and you moan. Miguel spared no time adding another digit inside you, picking up a fast pace and your body arched, hips twisting to follow his ministrations.

But before the pressure in your abdomen builds up, he pulls away to your distaste.

"Fuck…" You whined.

"Stop whining and get on top of me. I wanna see you bounce."

He slipped off of his pants and boxers, tossing it to the side before switching positions with you. You reached down to his hardened length, pumping him leisurely while he ran his calloused hands up and down the meat of your thighs.

You eyed the clear pre-cum erupting from his tip with every pump with fascination. Miguel's hands tensed on your thighs as a warning yet you bent down to lick off it off. A salty taste explodes in your mouth and Miguel grunts, nails digging into your flesh.

"Mi vida..."

"You're such a mood killer." You said, earning yourself a pinch in your thigh and you giggled.

You positioned his intimidatingly huge dick directly under you and with a deep breath, you let the tip sink into you. It's barely in and you're struggling with his girth stretching you wide open. Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel rubbed circles on your hips.

"You can do it, baby. You know you can take me in."

With the slight pushing from Miguel, you eased him in with a mewl. He feels deeper and fuller this way and you gasped at him, nudging more of him inside.

"Fuck..! You're so deep..! I c-can't—"

"You can and you will. I'll make sure you do."

"P-please... Ah!"

Surrendering your control to him momentarily, he gladly took up the mantle. Your mind grew fuzzy at how full he makes you feel and it pleased Miguel to no end to see you drunk on his cock. Reaching up to your neck, he pulls you down for a dizzying kiss.

You whimpered into his mouth as he gained some speed, nudging the roof of your uterus, keeping your mouth hang ajar, spouting gibberish and noises of absolute ecstasy. His hands roamed your body with the greed of an explorer in a new land yet tender as if handling a feather whilst you tugged hard on his locks.

"You feel so tight around me. God, you feel heavenly." He grunts as he drives himself in your heat.

Your body grew feverish as your heart grew fuller from the softness of his touches and kisses. The knots in your abdomen twisted tighter, your impending climax arriving a little early.

"I-I'm close…"

"Give it to me, come all over my dick. I want it all."

Picking up speed, you cried onto his shoulders as he plummets into you hard. Your hips grew erratic as you followed the intensity of his thrusts, his hands grabbing the globes of your ass to guide your heat onto his. 

"Come for me, cariño."

Your whimpered whispers of his name filled the room as you tip closer to the edge.

The knots in your abdomen unfurl and you come, trembling on top of him with a shout. He grunts as the tightness brought by your end, hugged his girth firmly. His hot pants fanned your ears as your climax encouraged him closer, the sound of his pleasure sent sparks throughout your body and swells your chest with pride.

"Take all of me, baby. You want it yeah? Want me to fill you up real bad? Want me to breed and knock you up?"

"Yes yes yes…! I want it please please please!"

Miguel protectively wrapped his arms around you as he came, exploding and painting your insides white with a deep groan. His arms only tightened around you, forbidding you from leaving.

Flipping you both, he sits up to stare at where you both connected with lust clouded eyes. Pulling out, you groaned at the feeling of his seed pulse out of you and Miguel clicked his tongue.

"You're wasting them."

Scooping them up, he plunged them into you and your thighs twitched from the intrusion. You let your eye close as your soul slowly settles back into your body, exhaustion weighing your eyelids shut.

The sound of wet squelch of his fluids mixed with yours burned your cheeks and you forced yourself to focus on the feeling of his fingers plunging his seed back in, pleasurable albeit a little painful.

Miguel halts, only to bring your legs up to your shoulders, stirring you awake from your momentary rest to meet the wicked gleam in his dilated eyes as he pinned your thighs down and loomed over you.

"Don't even think of sleeping tonight or tomorrow. We haven't even started."

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Although Bradley wasn't usually one for big gestures, he supposed he was when it came to you. Now he wanted the wife and the wedding and the honeymoon and all of it. Preferably sooner than later.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had never been a big gesture kind of guy. He never really saw the point in it. He always figured it was easier to tell how much someone cared about you through their day-to-day interactions instead of the occasional over the top displays. 

He knew Natasha had his back by the way she simply helped him prepare for tonight by taking you out for drinks without asking too many questions. And he hoped she knew that the steady friendship he built with her was strong even though their birthday steak dinners and weekend morning runs weren't flashy. He felt similarly about Maverick, thankful that he knew where he stood with him once again without having to prove it.

But Bradley wanted you to know that he was going to love you forever by the way he treated you when you were alone together, and by the way he couldn't help but occasionally show off his romantic side. He knew you didn't need words written in the sky when he would prefer to pour his heart out to you in letters and emails, but he didn't want to simply propose by handing you his mother's ring either.

That's why he got your students to fold up the paper planes. Because he just couldn't help but both ask you to marry him and show you how much those letters changed his life at the same time.

"Bradley?" Your voice was breathy as he watched your eyes flick to the wall and then back to his face. "Paper planes?"

He smiled. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He gestured toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you whispered as he closed the distance to you before getting down on one knee.

"They did," he confirmed, looking up at your beautiful face as tears filled your eyes. "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up the engagement ring that he remembered from his childhood but thought had been long ago buried with Carole. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern. Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping." He knew he was rambling, but now that it was time to say the most important words, his nerves were taking over. "I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly with emotion as a tear streaked down your cheek. "Are you serious?"

He was serious. He was in love. He wanted this forever. "Will you marry me?"

You didn't make him wait long to see your beautiful smile and hear your calming voice. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Bradley."

You started to drop down to your knees, and he caught you along the way as your lips met his. He could feel you everywhere. Your arms around his neck were familiar, and so was your soft laughter and your kisses. But your words promising forever were new.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he swore between kisses. "I fucking love you, Baby."

"I love you, too," you whispered, cupping his face in both of your hands and kissing him. 

Bradley realized he was holding the ring tight in his hand and loosened his grip so you could really take a look. "Let me put it on your finger? Make it official?"

You nodded in excitement, and then Bradley had to blindly slide it into place as you kissed him relentlessly.

---------------------------------

Each of the paper planes taped to the wall was familiar to you. After so many months, you could tell which of your students had written the notes based on the handwriting. As you ran your fingers along the letters, you recognized your own handwriting there as well. The flickering candle light shone on the paper planes as well as the ring on your finger.

This was all so romantic. You never dreamed you'd be so thoroughly loved, but here you were with Bradley's lips on the side of your neck as he stood behind you, letting you inspect the message he hung up on the wall.

MARRY ME?

"In an abundance of detail, please explain to me how you managed to get my students to fold all of these up during Career Day without me noticing."

His deep rumble of laughter sent goosebumps along your skin. "You have to know by now who my regular accomplice is."

You spun around in his arms and kissed him as his big hands settled low on your hips. "Natasha can't be trusted," you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. "She's too loyal to you. But I know your strategy now."

"That's okay. I don't need her to be sneaky on my behalf anymore. Proposing to you was my main objective."

"Bradley," you whispered, smiling so much your face hurt. You examined the ring as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Part of you was still surprised by how the evening turned out, but he had been promising you from the very start that he was serious about you. "Bradley, you just gave me your mom's ring."

"Yeah," he grunted, running his nose along your cheek and ear. His breath was warm against your skin as he said, "We can pick out something else if you don't like it. The diamond is pretty small, because my parents got married when they were twenty-four. I think that's all my dad could afford, and-"

You silenced him with your lips on his. "It's perfect. Like you. I don't want anything else. Or anyone else."

Those big hands were on your butt now, and his body was snug up against yours as he kissed you so hard, you moaned. The living room smelled like all of the different candles at one time, and the lighting was kind of magical. And you realized you were engaged to the man you started to fall in love with before you even kissed him for the first time.

As soon as you took one small step toward the bedroom, Bradley followed your lead. You could tell he was excited as he scooped you up into his arms, and you kept yourself snug against him as he grew harder for you. Just as you ran your lips along his scars while he carried you through the bedroom doorway, his stomach growled so loudly, you started to laugh.

"You didn't eat dinner," you whispered, kissing him softly, trying to hold back the desire you felt.

"Baby, I have a whole plan," he replied, all smiles as you nipped at his lips until you landed on your back on the bed. "Dinner at Salvatore's is happening, but not until I fuck my fiancée."

You whined softly as he dragged your leggings slowly down, and you arched your back so he could remove your shirt. Then you watched him struggle to get undressed with his erection as you touched yourself. "You're taking me out for an engagement dinner?" you asked, running your fingers between your breasts and down your belly. He stumbled out of his jeans, eyes fixed on your body as you circled your clit with your middle finger.

"Well... maybe not," he grunted. "I should have thought this through a little better. Now I just want to keep you in bed."

The words were taken from your mouth and turned into a moan as he spread your legs apart and kissed you where you were touching yourself. "Bradley." Your fingers went to his hair as he teased and kissed his way up your body, letting you taste yourself on his lips and mustache.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he crooned, guiding the tip of his cock through your wetness until you were clenching with need. When you were ready for him, all you had to do was roll your hips up. When you were ready for more, he filled you up and didn't stop until you came.

--------------------------

"I should probably just try to get us a standing reservation," Bradley murmured, making you laugh as you were led to your table at Salvatore's. The two of you just finished a bottle of the overpriced wine you liked so much at the bar, and now you were looking up at him like you'd rather just go back home for round two of engagement sex instead of dinner. But he knew he wouldn't make it to that point until he ate something.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, grinning as you sat down when the waiter pulled out your chair.

As soon as you and he were both seated, you asked, "How exactly would you like me to look at my future husband?"

Your words left him a little breathless as he reached for your left hand which now displayed the ring that told everyone else you were going to be his wife. He couldn't stop touching you, and you were just as bad as your legs tangled with his beneath the table. "Maybe we should have made sandwiches at home."

Even mentioning food out loud made his stomach growl louder as he inhaled the delicious scent of pasta. "We'll be back home soon," you told him. "In the meantime, while we take a break from our engagement sex marathon, why don't we talk about our summer wedding?"

Bradley nodded as he laced his fingers with yours. "You know, I always wanted to try running a marathon, but I think I like this type even better."

"You can use the sex marathon as part of your training regimen."

The smile on his lips wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Maybe it was the same smile that had been there since the first time he looked at your photo. "Are you really going to agree to a summer wedding?"

"You told my students that's what you wanted," you replied immediately. 

"I owe your kiddos so much. If they didn't think I was cool as hell, I'd have gotten nowhere with their teacher. We should invite them to our wedding."

You laughed as Bradley waved down the waiter and ordered three entrees. He was still holding your hand as he told the guy, "And you may as well just bring some to-go containers out along with the food. We've been engaged for about two hours, so I'm getting a little antsy to get back home again. I'm sure you can understand."

"Congratulations," he murmured as you cradled your forehead in your right hand.

"Bradley," you half groaned and half laughed.

"What?" he replied, downing half of his glass of water. "He took one look at you and knows exactly why I can't wait to go home. Now can we talk more about wedding plans?"

You looked beyond amused and very pleased with yourself as you asked, "Do you really want a summer wedding?"

"Absolutely, Gorgeous Girl," he confirmed. "This year. Please don't make me wait."

You bit your lip for a few seconds before you said, "It's already February. That doesn't give us a lot of time. Unless..." Then the waiter returned with some bread, and you asked him, "Do you have a catering menu?"

He nodded. "I'll bring one out with your food and the containers."

Now you were the one tugging on Bradley's hand. "I have a great idea! What if we don't really have a wedding at all?"

His face fell as his lips parted silently. None of this really mattered before he met you, but now that he was here, he could clearly picture the day in his mind. "Baby, I want us to have a wedding day. A white dress and my uniform and flowers and wedding photos and all that shit."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrenching your hand free so you could drag your chair closer to his at the small table. Your palm was on his cheek, tilting his face so you could kiss him while you stroked his scars. "I didn't mean it like that." You kissed him again. "You give me these butterflies, and I swear I can't handle it," you whispered, running your nose along the side of his. "What if we have a simple wedding where we can invite my students? We can still do the dress and the uniform and as many photos as we want. But I think I know the best spot where we can have it all. And then we could go big on our honeymoon."

The wedding, the fourth graders, the honeymoon, the wife. Now he was smiling again. "Tell me more, Gorgeous. In an abundance of detail."

--------------------------------

If anyone saw the two of you, it would have been comical. It was dark out, and you were holding the bag of food containers and trying to unlock the door while Bradley held onto you.

"I think it's a little bit early to be carrying me into the house like this. Pretty sure that's for after the wedding."

"You can't blame me for being excited."

You pushed the door open, and even in the nearly dark house, you could still see the paper airplanes on the wall spelling out his proposal. "Are we keeping that romantic display where it is?" you asked as Bradley took you to the kitchen.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "For now. But I don't want them to get faded or anything like that. I'll flatten the letters out again eventually and find somewhere to store them."

You gasped as you unpacked the food containers and found something at the bottom of the bag. "They gave us an entire cheesecake!" It said Congratulations written in chocolate, and you bounced around in place as Bradley's arm wrapped around you. "That was so sweet of them."

He chuckled and whispered, "They know what they're doing. They have a loyal customer in my wife who always orders the expensive wine."

His fingertips brushed your neck before you felt his mustache there. "You already know I ordered it by accident the first time," you gasped as he sucked gently on the sensitive spot below your ear. "And I'm not your wife yet."

"Based on our tentative plans, you will be in a few short months," he murmured. "Now why don't we put the food away and go back to bed until Monday morning?"

"Monday morning?" you moaned. "You feeling ambitious?"

Bradley practically threw the food into the refrigerator. "My belly is full, you look hot, we're getting married, and we can take a break for cheesecake in a few hours. So yes, I'm feeling very ambitious, Gorgeous."

Your smile was coy, and your voice was low. "A few hours without a break?"

Bradley kissed your parted lips before tasting your tongue. "I want to get some practice in before our honeymoon. Isn't Paris the city of sex?" he asked with a smirk.

"The city of love!" you said, bursting into laughter as he hauled you toward the bedroom again.

"We'll make it both. I want to practice both."

It was always both when you were with him. He was sexy and sweet, his voice close to your ear as you had each other for the third time today. You already knew that all it took was the diamond on your finger to make you go a little wilder for each other. A deployment that ended with an engagement ring? You never wanted this feeling to stop.

The diamond sparkled on your finger as you tugged at his hair. He was so methodical with you. There was a sweet precision to everything he did which felt like the embodiment of his written letters. His voice was familiar and raw with emotion next to your ear as he filled you in every way. His lips were everywhere, praising you and drawing out your orgasm. Calling you the love of his life. 

"I need this forever, Gorgeous," he panted, fucking you harder. "I need you."

You were clinging to him, kissing his scars as you came. Then the two of you snuggled in bed and discussed your plans for the perfect wedding. 

Although there were more breaks for food and the cheesecake, he did in fact keep you very busy until Monday morning. You went to work exhausted, but you made a quick stop to ask your school administrator if your wedding idea was even feasible. The answer surprised you. Then you got yourself settled in your classroom where eighteen kids soon arrived, and Violet set off a ripple effect as soon as she gasped and asked, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw give you a wedding ring?"

Jayden and Nia both came running over to your desk to see it. Henry shouted, "She got married! Knew it!" Jackie screamed into her hands about how the magical paper planes worked, and you had to stand and try to calm everyone down.

"I didn't get married! Yet. But Lieutenant Bradshaw asked me to marry him this summer, and I said yes, so I guess the magical paper airplanes did work."

Your classroom erupted into cheers and shouting as you smiled. Thank goodness you went out on a limb and decided to write to a US Naval Aviator. Thank goodness it was Bradley who answered. 

-------------------------------

Wedding and honeymoon up next? Then the epilogue? We're almost there! Anyone think they know where they'll have their wedding? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

[sturniholo]

the only exception - matt sturniolo

in which matt shows the reader what love should look like

matt x fem reader !

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

The sound of my mother’s screams ricocheted off the walls as I lay in bed. This was a sound I was all too familiar with, as it happened almost every night. My dad would do or say something to upset my mom, which resulted in a big argument.

However, tonight was worse than it had ever been. The sound of my parents' bedroom door slamming made me shoot up from my bed. Loud steps could be heard going down the stairs. I could hear cries in the hallway, making me get out of bed.

My mom stood at the top of the stairs, mascara running down her face. My heart broke as I heard her sobs. She always held herself together, putting on a tough front for her kids, but tonight she just couldn’t.

Instinctively, I made my way over to her, making her immediately wipe her tears. She wrapped her arm around me, pulling me into her side. She sniffled loudly, occasionally letting out a soft cry.

My dad on the other hand packed a bag and made his way down the road. He was too angry to be at home and needed to get away. He had done this before, so it wasn’t shocking. He was never gone for long, and would usually come back the next day. But this was the final straw.

It had been a whole week and he still didn’t come home. I then learned that my parents had split up that night. Ever since then, I could finally sleep at night, with no interruptions from either of them.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

I stared off at the wall as my older sister leaned on my shoulder, letting out gut-wrenching sobs. Her boyfriend of two years had cheated on her, which obviously made her upset.

My hand rested on her back, rubbing soothing circles on her skin. Her tears rapidly fell on my shirt, creating a wet patch, but I didn’t mind. She needed a shoulder to cry on, so of course I was there for her.

In my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder what led to this. They had seemed like the perfect couple. He was always at the house, cuddled up on the couch with her. The picture of her waltzing around the house, waiting for him to pick her up for their date entered my mind.

But there she sat, crying her eyes out over him. Letting tears fall from her eyes and snot drip from her nose as she let it all out.

From that point on, I didn’t allow myself to get into a relationship. I pushed away any feelings I developed for anyone if I even allowed myself to develop those feelings. And I was quite content with that, as other things in life brought me happiness.

I stuck to this philosophy for years, until something changed. During my senior year, I met a guy. His name was Matt. We sat beside each other in history class, which we both found boring. However, we quickly became good friends, which made history class something to look forward to.

As the school year progressed, I found myself developing feelings for him. I tried my absolute best to push them away, but as soon as he flashed me a smile, they all came rushing back.

Soon, prom season came around. All of my friends were excited. They couldn’t wait to dress up, go out to eat, and slow dance with their date. But on the other hand, I couldn’t care less. I thought prom was a waste of time, especially if you went with a date.

However, Matt convinced me to go to prom with him. And safe to say, it was the most fun I have had in a long time. We danced all night, occasionally sneaking off to steal food from the snack table or take pictures in the photo booth.

A few months later, I came to a terrifying realization. I liked Matt. A scary amount. Due to these feelings, I began to distance myself. I would decline hangouts or leave him on read for a few days.

Eventually, this caught up with me. One day he came to my house, quite aggravated. I remember it as clear as day.

I quickly jogged down the stairs, making my way to the front door. I pulled it open, revealing Matt. He wore a slightly aggravated expression, making me knit my brows. “Matt, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? You haven’t answered me in three days and you wonder why I’m here?” He pushes past me, leaving me dumbfounded. I close the door and follow him into my living room.

He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward. I sit on the other end of the couch, keeping a good distance between us. “You can’t even sit near me. Seriously, what’s going on with you?” He looks over at me with a hurt expression, making me feel awful.

“I’m scared,” my voice breaks as I speak.

“Why?”

I look away from him, turning my attention towards my lap. “Because I like you so much it scares me.” I felt a hand on my thigh, causing me to look over to him.

“You shouldn’t be afraid because I like you too. It’s been killing me that you’ve been ignoring me, y/n.” As his words sunk in, my heart couldn’t help but pound. To hear those words took a huge weight off my shoulders.

A few weeks later, Matt asked me out on a date. To say I was excited was an understatement, but I still had my worries. What if it all went wrong? What if I never spoke to him again after tonight? Those thoughts ran through my mind as I got ready.

As our date came to an end, I couldn’t help but smile. I had the best time tonight. Matt picked me up and took me to my favorite restaurant. He paid and even ordered me a dessert.

Now here we were, back at his car. I was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window when I felt a hand on my leg. I turned to look at Matt, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

“I had a great time tonight.” His hand moved up my leg, resting on my thigh. As he began to caress the skin, I couldn’t help but ease into his touch.

I gazed into his eyes, allowing myself to get lost in them. “Me too.” My eyes flickered down to his lips, making him smirk.

Before I knew it, he was leaning in. He placed his lips on mine, his hand gripping my thigh. My hand found his jaw, my lips moving on his. As we kissed, I couldn’t help but smile.

He pulled away, a big grin on his face. “Be my girlfriend,” he blurted. My eyes widened at his words. “Please,” he breathed out.

I thought for a moment, my mind racing. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, Matt.”

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

That night changed my life for the better. It’s exactly why I’m in the position I am now.

My eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun peaked in through the curtain. I stirred around in bed before slowly sitting up. My movements were constrained as I felt Matt’s tight grip around me. His arm was wrapped around my waist, keeping me close to him.

I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down at him. He was peacefully sleeping, his mouth slightly open, allowing soft snores to escape. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He stirred beneath me, his eyes slowly opening. A yawn left his lips as he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. “Good morning, baby,” he said as he pulled me into his side.

“Good morning, babe.” He placed a kiss on my forehead, making me smile. I watched as he sat up, pulling the covers off of his body.

“I’m gonna make us some breakfast. Pancakes sound good?” I gave him a nod. I watched as he left the room, a smile on my face.

Simple things like that remind me how lucky I am to have Matt. Had I let my fears get the best of me, I would have missed out on love others spend their whole life searching for.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

a/n: shoutout to all the girlies with divorced parents and a fear of intimacy…😭 ily

[dazed--xx]

SKZ!Reactions: It Was All a Bet II (Maknae Line)

Part 1 Hyung Line Masterlist

Jisung:

“No.”

You growl as Jisung stood in front of you, a guilty pout on his lips. “But Babe…. —nope. Fix that, like now.” You cut him off. His head drops as he stares at the ground. “Y/N, I understand you’re upset b-but I genuinely care about you. I really want to talk about this. I’m truly so sorry.” He whimpers as he grips your hand lifting it slightly to his chest. You stare at him in disbelief. It hadn’t even been an hour since he confessed the truth. Has he no shame? You wonder to yourself. You pull your hand away “I’m sorry but are you like, dumb? Did you forget what you told me?” You snap. Jisung looks up at you with shock and guilt on his features. “N-No…” He stammers panicked. “B-But, please l-lets talk about this.” He pleads. Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Excuse me?” You snort. “If you haven’t realized, our conversations ended when I told you to go to hell. Cause I mean it. Go to hell Han Jisung. Honestly, any of you that made the bet can go to hell. Was it the guys?” He nods regret evident in his eyes, shame written all over his face. “I’m so sorry….” He whispers, his voice breaking as his eyes well up with tears.

 “What does that do for me?”

He looks at you quizzically, “W-what do you mean?”

“You being sorry doesn’t go back in time and make you not tell me that. It doesn’t change you making the bet in the first place, honestly you saying that right now does nothing but clear your own conscious but of course why am I not surprised? You seem to keep doing things that only benefit you anyway.” He shakes his head rapidly. “No…. Y/N, no…. you’re wrong.—I am? Cause from where I’m standing you confessed to being a disgusting pig and that your friends are disgusting pigs who view women as just simple toys to mess around with as you please, and then after such confession you track me down to my job; ask my manager for me to talk to you for a second then have the nerve to apologize and cry like you deserve anything from me?” You cut him off with a monotonous tone. A look of horror paints his features, his entire demeanor looks crushed as his head hangs low. “At least I said something, I could have never said anything, you could have found out from someone else….” He murmurs, his frustration growing evident. You scoff “Oh?! I’m sorry, of course, you confessed to being crap so I should humor you right?” Jisung looks at you, you notice his jaw clenching in frustration. “Dammit why are you being like this? I’m sorry! I’ve never regretted anything more in my life please just—just talk to me about this…” He snaps before he sighs, letting all his anger leave his body with the sigh. “…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made such a disgusting bet, no matter who it was, but I don’t regret being with you. I don’t regret meeting you; I don’t regret going out with you, I don’t regret loving you. I don’t want to lose you.” He breathed.

 You stare at him blankly. “Again, that does nothing for me. I understand you regret your actions and cool or whatever, but that doesn’t change the fact that you used me. You slept with me……for money…. like a prostitute…which is so utterly degrading. Also, I will point out that again I am at work, so I don’t have time to entertain my ex that I literally broke up with earlier today.” You counter. Jisung sighs in defeat “There’s nothing I could do to change your mind? Please Y/N, I love you…. I-I don’t want to break up. I’m really sorry…I couldn’t be sorrier. Please don’t do this…” He pleads apologetically. You shake your head lifting your hand “You can’t change someone’s mind about your betrayal. You still betrayed them; you haven’t even given me time to process what you did. Look I need time, but I hope it was worth it.” You state as you turn away from him and walk back into your job. Jisung stares at the door you just went through.

“How could it have been worth it when it cost me everything?”

Felix:

“You have to talk to me at some point, we’re literally on tour together for the next 6 months….” Felix mumbles as you shove past him. You scoff at him not saying anything as you hand Changbin a water bottle as he requested and make your way back toward your members. Noticing you have a tail, you turn and glare at Felix, who freezes in his place with a look of surprise on his face. “I know you’re trying to intimidate me, but you look way too cute for me to be able to be fearful right now…” He flirts sweetly as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “…Please just talk to me, I miss hearing your beautiful voice.” He whispers apologetically as he leans in close “Did you make a bet to date me for a year and then dump me after said year?” You question coldly your arms crossed over your chest as you pull your face away from his hand. He closes his eyes as a look of guilt and regret crosses his features. “Y-Yes, but—no buts…that kinda says it all then, doesn’t it?” You cut him off as you turn away from him and try to continue walking but you feel a pair of arms wrapping around your waist.

“I love you…. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, if you’re still mad at me then I can accept that. If you still want to punish me then fine. But please, it’s been three months since I’ve last been able to talk to you, let alone see you; please let me just have the chance on this tour to fix things.” He urges hopefully. You sigh “Felix…. —Do you still love me?” He cuts you off, his breathing growing heavy as you feel your cheeks heat up. “That doesn’t matter…” You answer, as you attempt to pull yourself from his grip. “Yes, it does…” He whispers, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“No. It really doesn’t. My love for you doesn’t change what you did….”

“It tells me if I have a chance to change your mind though.”

“Why are you so adamant about this? Why can’t you just move on?” You argue. “Because I love you and I don’t want to love anyone else…” Felix states matter of factly. Your heart races at his words. “W-well…I-I’ve moved on…” You lie. You feel Felix’s grip tighten slightly as he buries his face in your neck, you feel a soft rumble on your chest as you hear a chuckle escape Felix’s throat “No, you haven’t…you still love me” He denies. You scoff in offense, turning your head to face him.

“You don’t know that. Not for a fact.”

“I do. Want me to prove I do?”

Your eyes narrow at him “You can’t prove how someone else fee”—your words are cut off by a pair of soft plush lips connecting with yours. Your heart races at the contact as one of Felix’s hands caress your cheek, his lips moving against yours softly. Your cheeks burn a bright scarlet as you instinctively respond to the kiss, a small groan released from your throat when Felix nibbles on your bottom lip. It felt almost like an eternity before either of you pulled away, him being the first to do so. Your lips chasing his for a moment before you hear a chuckle “See…proved it” He whispered in your ear seductively “this is going to be a fun 6 months with you babe” He placed a kiss on your cheek before handing you the water bottle you had given Changbin back and walking away. You stare at the water bottle in confusion “Where did you have this hiding?!” Felix shrugs as he places his hands in his basketball shorts pockets. “I’m an enigma, I’m your boyfriend you should know this…”

Seungmin:

“I’ll tell you now, besides Seungmin. You should be the last person to come and see me.”

You growl at Jeongin who stood with a guilty expression on his face as he stood on your porch. He hangs his head low as he sighs “I’m sorry Y/N, the bet was my idea…I shouldn’t have pushed Seungmin to accept it so much.” He apologized regretfully. “Do you want a medal or something?” You snap as you wipe the tears from your face. “You know what sucks about finding out that Seungmin had this bet going?” Jeongin shakes his head in response, “That he’s a jerk?” Jeongin guesses. “No. that my best friend is just as disgusting as my ex was.” You growl before you slam the door in Jeongin’s face. You sigh as you press your back against the door, your body gliding down the surface until you’re sat on the floor. Tears stream down your cheeks, as sobs wrack your body. The betrayal of Seungmin’s words truly setting in for the first time in days. Pulling your phone out, you press on Seungmin’s contact name and call him.

He answers on the first ring “Babe?” He gasps out quickly. “D-don’t.” Your voice cracks.

“A-are you crying?”

“Yup. Thanks for that by the way….”

“I—I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am really fucking sorry.”

You sigh into the phone as you sniffle “You’re right. That means absolutely nothing to me. I called because I’m really upset and its your fault and I’m really fucking mad at you right now. How could you do this to me? I thought you liked me…. I thought I meant something to you…” you sob. “You do! Please don’t think you don’t…. please…” He pleads desperately. “You mean everything to me. I just made a massively stupid mistake. I-I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to find out this way….” You scoff “This way or at all?” Seungmin pauses for a moment “Honestly, I wish I could say I would have told you but if you didn’t overhear me, I wouldn’t have ever told you about it.” He confesses, his voice cracking toward the end. “Why not? You won right?” You retort sarcastically.

“Don’t.” He groans “Don’t do that, please? I didn’t want you to know because I knew this would happen. I know I deserve this, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me too. You don’t think I hurt myself too? You don’t think I hated myself every time I saw you and you looked at me in that perfectly beautiful way you do, and I knew that it all started from some disgustingly misogynistic bet? But that doesn’t change that I loved you the whole time. It doesn’t change that I knew you were meant for me since the moment I laid eyes on you.” Your heart races at his words. You notice the soft sniffles coming from the other side of the phone. “A-Are you crying?” You ask. “I shouldn’t be. I caused this. I stupidly listened to Jeongin, and I knew it wasn’t a good idea…I knew you had no interest in Jeongin at all, but—sigh—I let my stupid jealousy make a decision for me. I regret it. I’ve regretted it ever since I made it.” He confesses. Your heart feels conflicted. His words sway your resolve more and more. “Can I have some time?” You ask softly. “I need to feel not completely and utterly foolish to continue this conversation…”

“Take your time…I’ll wait as long as you need me to…. but I do love you….”

Jeongin:

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m more than sorry…”

Jeongin pleaded as he trailed behind you on your walk home from work. “God, I hope dispatch doesn’t find out where I live….” You groan as you stand in front of your apartment building. Glaring at Jeongin who stood there, face exposed, exclaiming his love for you. “Does that really matter right now?” Jeongin questioned frustratedly. “I mean considering we broke up over two weeks ago? Yeah. It would be a major problem.” You argue. Jeongin shakes his head in denial, “No. we’re not broken up. I never agreed to breaking up.” He whined, tears forming in his eyes as he continued to argue “I’m giving you space and time to be upset, I deserve you to be mad at me. I know you deserve better than someone as gross as I am who would make a bet like that, but I promise you, when I said it was the easiest 500 dollars, I ever made I meant it in a good way. I meant it was easy to be with you because you’re so amazing. B-because I love you, that’s why it became so easy. Honestly, before the guys said something that day, I forgot I even made the bet.”

 “Can you like…not be so fucking rational all the time?” You groan in frustration, “But I don’t care if you wanted to break up or not. Like you said, you made a gross ass bet with your gross ass friends. I’m not some random desperate insecure girl hoping and praying you’ll stay interested in me. If you mess up this bad it’s not up to me to help you fix it. This shit is gonna take time if I even want to see you again when I’m no longer angry.”

“If? Y-You don’t want to see me anymore?” His voice cracks as he stares at you apologetically, tears now streaming down his cheeks as your words hit him. “Y-You won’t even give me a chance?” You rest your forehead on the palm of your hand for a moment. “You made a bet to sleep with me and then break up with me after I said I love you.” You remind him. Jeongin looks nauseous at the mention of his misdeed. “b-but I didn’t. I-I didn’t do it…I didn’t break up with you. T-the guys—I don’t care” You cut him off “who cares if you and the guys changed their minds after the fact—'b-but we really felt’—I don’t care. You guys should feel guilty. I’m a fun, and nice person, I have awesome memes and I value honesty over everything. The fact that you could lie to me for almost two fucking years is insane.” You snap, your blood boiling as he continues to try to make excuse after excuse. “If you didn’t fall in love with me or whatever, you would have ripped my heart out.” You state matter of factly. Jeongin shakes his head in denial. “T-that’s not true, I’m not like that. I would have told you the truth, I swear I would have said something if I never felt anything for you. I felt like telling you the whole first two weeks of us dating.” He counters. You snort at the irony “So you had no feelings for me the whole first two weeks of us dating? What changed? Why’d you suddenly get feelings? You sure you didn’t just trick yourself into thinking you loved me out of guilt.”

“I’m a good guy, but not that good of a guy. I’d love to say this is not like me but that wouldn’t be true. I’ve done these types of bets with the guys before. I’ve liked some of the girls and some I didn’t either way I always told them the truth at the end of the timeframe. But for you, it was at that party we went to in Seongnam; Felix was really drunk and rambling on and on about the bet when you went to the bathroom and the whole time, he was talking all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to break up with me on the same night I had realized I liked you. I mean how could I not? Y-You’re perfect. You’re so kind and understanding and forgiving….” His voice breaks as he tries to contain his tears “…. You’re the most beautiful person I know, and I-I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please. Not like this” He begs as the tears continue to stream down his face.

You stand there for a moment, silence taking over both of you. For a moment it feels like time has stopped completely and you two are the only ones in this place. “I-I…I can’t.” You whisper, a look of bewilderment is written all over Jeongin’s expression. “N-No…y-you love me…w-we love each other. You can’t—you can’t do this. Please don’t—don’t do this.” He stammers in denial. “I-I’m not saying we have to completely break up…b-but I need time, I can’t trust you anymore. It feels like I don’t know you anymore….” You reject softly. Jeongin sobs “Y-Yes you do! You know me better than anyone, I made a mistake, I know that. But I’ll never hurt you like that again, ill never betray your trust again please….”

“I love you; I do. But I need time….”

“Please…. don’t walk away from us, I care about you so much. It was a mistake, promise you that” He pleads as he walks toward you, his hands encasing your arms. His eyes connecting with yours, you turn your head looking away. His hand caresses your cheek. “I love you please give me a chance to make up for this, please don’t leave me like this. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry I just want to fix this I don’t want to break up.” He urges as he rests his forehead on yours. “I need time I can’t just get over this please give me some time.” You sigh sadly. “B-But—no…. I can’t accept that you did this to me….it hurts too much for me to just jump into something with someone I can’t trust.” You cut him off.

“But you can trust me. Please give me a chance to prove that….”

“I don’t know, I need space…. I need time…. This hurts so much, and I can’t just move on from it. I need to process everything so please give me time and we can talk later—another time.”

His eyes fill with horror as he shakes his head rapidly “I-No….no…. This can’t be happening. P-please….im sorry” you sigh taking a step back. “It is happening, but I need to handle this alone, I can’t be with you please leave….”

He stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched you disappear into your building. “Please, I’m nothing without you….” He whispered nothing.

Taglist: @corrodedthorn @lovesunshinefelix @lailac13 @moonchildlv @neyangi @hello-stranger24 @tamlinsfiddle @allyrarara @yangbbokari @whoa-jo @le3lyntv @jabmastersupriseee @ezlynkisses @havenwithleeknow @heartsbyandra @applekiwi3202 @cloudyseokjinx @lixpixstix @jaiunemesolitaiire @manuosorioh @kibs-and-bits @minsungsthirdwheel @pnutbutter-n-jelyy @oddracha @velvetmoonlght @aalexyuuuhm @rockstarkkami @sheerfreesia007 @notastraykid @averyasmr4

[lenoraah]

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

pairing - charles leclerc x best friend! (turned lover) reader

summary - charles decides that he finally wants some normalcy in his life, that’s when reader and her best friend take it on their own hands to make it the most normal date that charles has ever been on. that is until charles blows off his date, realizing that he can no longer hide his emotions and feelings for his best friend

a/n - best friends to lovers, one of my least favorite tropes what this just seemed right. and as usual the best friend will be named (Ines) p.s reading is kind of rushed :)

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“No,”

“Why not?”

“Because Charles, normal people don’t wear a full five piece suit on a first date.” Y/n makes a face and Ines snort laughs at the sight of the Monegasque driver.

Charles groans as Y/n tugs at his tie and makes another face.

“Well I don’t know what to wear.” Charles plops down on the armchair behind him and crosses his arms with a pout on his face.

Ines and Y/n share a look before slowly starting to nod. Ines gets up and the two stand right in front of Charles with a smug smile on their faces.

“No, no, no. I don’t like this look,” Charles rapidly shakes his head as the two best friends in front of him keep nodding.

Y/n and Ines waste no time in dragging Charles into their enormous walk-in closet. Charles gets thrown into a chair the moment they enter the room.

The brunette spends the next ten minutes listening to Y/n and Ines mumble and completing why he agreed let Y/n help them with his first ‘normal date’.

“Here,” Y/n tosses Charles pair of jeans.

“And this,” Ines throws him a vintage sweatshirt.

“Layer the sweatshirt over the dress shirt, and leave everything untucked from the jeans. And also your perfectly white sneakers.” Y/n rolls her eyes at the last part and Charles can’t help but grin.

Ines and Y/n ushers for the Monegasque to change and they settle into the two armchairs. The y/h/c girl keeps quiet as she gently grazes Charles suit jacket making Ines raise an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” Y/n shakes her head and nods with a stiff look on her face.

“No you’re not,” Ines sighs and gets up from her seat. She crosses her arms and stands in front of Y/n with an unimpressed look on her face.

“I am completely fine, I have no idea with you’re talking about.” Y/n sits up and drapes Charles’s jacket over the chair next to him.

“I don’t think so,” Ines rolls her eyes. “You’re upset that Charles is going on a date and you’re not the one his going with.”

“I- I am not.” Y/n scoffs but hesitantly looks away, avoiding Ines’s gaze.

The brown haired girl ignores her comments and mumbles something in Spanish that Y/n can’t understand.

“Y/n, admit it.”

“No,”

“Say it,”

“No I don’t,”

“Admit it, say that you like Charles.” Ines grabs Y/n and shakes her by her shoulders.

“Fine, fine, I do.” Y/n says in between laughter. “Please stop shaking me.”

“Hah, I knew it.” Ines immediately lets go of her and quietly yells something in Spanish.

Y/n scowls but smiles a little, glad to have the pressure taken off her chest.

“You have to tell him,”

“What? Nessie, I can’t.” Y/n scowls at the idea and punches Ines in the arm.

Ines whimpers and rubs her arm as she walks away from the y/h/c girl, looking at a rack of coats and making an interesting face at a sequin jacket.

Y/n groans as she buries her face in her hands, bringing her knees to her chest.

“How do I look?” Charles enter the room with the rest of his suit in his hand. Ines glances at Y/n before grabbing all pieces of Charles’s suit and a few hangers before leaving the two of them alone.

“Well, this is just another outfit that proves that I can style better than you.” Y/n teases as Charles looks at himself in the mirror.

The two of them stay like that for moment. The two staring at him in the mirror.

So awkward.

Charles adjusts his bracelets as Y/n runs a hand through her hair. Just as Charles is about to open his mouth, his phone buzzes and that gets both of their attentions.

“I think it’s time you go,” Y/n pushes Charles towards the door with a nervous little laugh.

“Y/n-”

“Nope, your date is waiting and you don’t want to be late. Remember Charles, normal people dating.”

“Y/n/n, wait.”

Ugh the nickname.

Y/n nods and bites down on her inner check, trying to not make it obvious that she is one step closer to blushing if Charles does one more cute or swoon-worthy thing.

“I’ll text you later,” Charles mumbles and Y/n can only keep nodding.

“Uh, huh okay, bye now.” Y/n shoves him out the door and waves with a stupid smile on her face that make Ines, who is watching from the kitchen, face palm.

“I’ll be thinking of you, thanks for everything.”

“Neat, bye now. Text me everything later,” Y/n slams the door close and sighs in relief, only to be greeted with Ines’s horror-filled face and her opening a book and gripping it tightly.

“Neat,”

“Yes, that is what you said.” Ines says with an unreadable look on her face as she aggressively flips the page.

“Oh my God, he said he would thinking of me, Ines. And I said neat,” Y/n sits down at the counter and groans into her hands.

“Yep, I don’t know if what I said to Joseph on our first date after he said he wanted to see me again is worse or this.”

“Didn’t you thank him?” Y/n scrunches her eyebrows together.

Ines sighs as she slams her book close, “I fucking thanked him.”

————————————————————————

So, so stupid.

Y/n groans as she lays down on the floor, her phone thrown halfway across the room. The constant buzzing is killing her.

It’s either Ines asking her a million questions or Charles texting her about the date. Either way we doesn’t want to hear from neither of them.

The y/h/c girl has a pout on her face as she watches Kat’s poem from 10 Things I Hate About You. She tries her best to not cry as she has a crackly face mask on.

As Y/n’s about to have a pity party for herself she, the doorbell rings and she groans once again.

She swings the door open which an annoyed expression on her face.

“What? Wait- Charles? What are you going here?” Y/n tries to keep a straight face as her eyes widen at the sight of her best friend standing at her door with his hands stuffed in his pockets while looking down at the floor.

“I- uh- Came to see you?” Charles smiles awkwardly as he sways from side to side trying to not laugh as he sees the green mixture covering her face.

“Right, uh huh. You know what, we both know neither of us can take anything seriously with this on my face. So give me a minute,” Y/n runs off once again with a nervous laugh, grabbing Charles’s hand and pushing him onto the couch before slamming the door shut.

Charles sits there for a couple minutes before Y/n walked a back into the room.

“So, tell me about your date?”

“I ditched,”

“What?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Charles murmurs, looking down.

Y/n’s eyes rolls to the back of her head for a minute before she sits up straight and stares right into Charles’s green eyes.

“I- I like you too?”

“You do?” Charles inches closer towards her face and she nods with a sheepish smile on her face.

“I like you too,”

The two lean in for a kiss and everything was going so well and-

Damn it Ines.

“What?”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Joseph owes me so much money!”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,692 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: War with the Saviors, specifically TWD S8 E13 after the battle at Hilltop Warnings: fear and anxiety, language, angst alert! Summary: You took an arrow to the shoulder during the battle at Hilltop and when the injured are sickened and turn, Daryl realizes his worst fear is going to come to pass.

“What the hell happened!?” Daryl spat, looking around at the now still corpses in the main entryway.

“I dunno,” Rick growled, spinning. “Maybe walkers got in?”

“Maybe during the fight,” Morgan echoed.

Daryl scrutinized the bodies. “These—these are all our own people though…”

Suddenly, there was a scream from upstairs and they raced up to find Carol standing over Tobin’s now silent body, blood dripping from the end of her knife.

“Are ya alrigh’?” Daryl asked, surveying the scene. Rick and Maggie stepped in beside him.

“Yeah,” gasped Carol. Her eyes were fixed on Tobin’s body. “He—he wasn’t bit. But he turned.”

They all exchanged tense and confused glances until Rick spoke. “Negan’s bat… when I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he’d crossed some but… maybe…”

“They have us workin’ for them again,” Maggie said. “Killin’ our own.”

“Poisoned weapons with walker blood?” Carol said. “It’s some sick biological warfare.” Her eyes drifted back down to Tobin’s pale body on the floor and her heart ached.

Daryl didn’t say another word and abruptly left the room, his boot steps receding rapidly down the hall.

“Daryl?” Carol called after him, moving to the doorway.

Rick hung his head and passed a hand over his eyes. Maggie put a hand on Carol’s shoulder. “It’s—” Her throat was tight and she had to clear it before she could get more out. “It’s Y/N,” she said quietly. “She took an arrow in the back of her shoulder.”

Carol’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God…” Her wide eyes met Maggie’s and stung with tears.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face and paced a tight circle. “And Tara too. And who knows,” he kicked out at the nearby dresser, “how many others.” He fell to cursing Negan, though he knew it wouldn’t help.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl lingered at the closed door for a long moment, staring at the wood, his hand moving to grip the door knob a couple times before falling down to his side. Finally, he grasped it and turned, pushing into the room.

You were asleep in the bed and Enid was sitting beside you. At the expression on her face, his stomach dropped through the floor. She looked worried, and had apparently been studying you. She shot up to her feet as Daryl softly closed the door behind him and stood there looking grim.

“What was all that shouting?” Enid asked.

Daryl gulped, his eyes fixed on you in the bed. “How is she?”

Enid hesitated and then returned to your side. She shook her head. “Her wound wasn’t life-threatening. But—”

“But what?” Daryl urged her to go on.

Enid looked down at your face again. “She looks pale and—I don’t know. Her breathing changed.” She glanced back up at Daryl, her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Daryl hesitated for one moment and then walked over to your bedside and scrutinized your face. You indeed looked ashen, and there were small beads of sweat starting to form near your hairline. His stomach churned. He met Enid’s questioning gaze and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to gain control of the wild emotions threatening to crush him at that moment. “We think The Saviors did somethin’ to their weapons. Ev’rybody that got wounded last night turned.”

Enid’s eyes went back to you asleep in the bed. “No,” she breathed with horror. “Oh my God.”

Daryl nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that the tang of copper filled his mouth. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat and did his best to appear steadfast. “Ya should go check on Tara.” His eyes strayed back to you again. “I’ve got this…”

Enid nodded, and with one final look at you and one anxious glance at Daryl, she quietly left the room.

Daryl stood at the end of the bed for a moment, watching the subtle rising and falling of the blanket over your chest. He thought it did seem a bit shallow. He slowly wandered over to the bedside and drew the chair closer, sinking down on it heavily and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his face. His brow tensed. The rising panic was returning. Your hand was lying on top of the quilt and his eyes traced the graceful curve of your fingers.

Part of him wanted to wake you, to see your eyes open and hopefully, clear. But another part of him knew he should let you sleep while you could.

It was short-lived.

Your breathing became shallower and more rapid and the clamminess of your skin increased. You stirred beneath the blanket and pushed it off, your eyes opening and a grimace passing over your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

Daryl leaned forward and you turned when you noticed him beside you, managing a tired smile. “Daryl,” you said softly, looking up at him. The corners of your eyes still crinkled even though the smile was a bit weak.

He chewed on his bottom lip. His anxiety was plain. Deep furrows were evident between his brows.

It didn’t take you long to remark on your condition on your own. You lifted a hand to wipe at the sweat on your forehead and then a shiver ran through you. He saw it clearly and tugged the blanket back up over you. “I’m sick,” you said. It was almost a question and then your eyes found his again. He saw mild confusion in them. “Daryl,” you said again. He looked so grim standing beside you. He held your eyes for only a brief moment before he felt the bubble of emotion rising up his throat and threatening to burst and he had to squeeze them shut. “What’s happened?” you asked. You reached for his hand, which was dangling at his side, and his eyes shot open again and looked at your fingertips touching his softly. He took your hand in his gently and warmed your fingers. Then his blue eyes found your ashen face again.

He felt like someone had rammed an icy blade up between his lungs and into his heart. He fought with emotion again and struggled to clear his throat enough to speak. Your eyes flickered between his, worried and puzzled. He opened his mouth to speak but then ducked his head one more time, passing his free hand over his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. “They—the Saviors,” he started, his voice a mere whisper, “they did somethin’ to their weapons.” He swallowed down the tightness in his chest with great effort. “Ev’rybody who got hurt in the fight is either sick or—or already turned.” He waited for your reaction and forgot to breathe.

Understanding washed over your face and your expression fell, but you simply nodded. You seemed to shrink away into some depths within your eyes and Daryl was afraid he wouldn’t be able to reach you again. He fell into the seat at your bedside again and squeezed your hand. What could he say? There was nothing to say. No words would help at a time like this. You were going to die. It was that simple. And nothing he could say would fix it or make it any better. Your name caught in his throat and you looked over at him again. “I—‘m so sorry,” he said. His voice broke and the sound of it cut both of you like a scalpel. You were both wounded from this happening, and you would die, but Daryl would be left carrying that wound for the rest of his life. Why did you have to be the one to… Why couldn’t it have been him who was hurt? You of all people—it was too hard to bear. He should have been there. He should have protected you. He should have stopped it!

Your eyes grew glassy and a few tears escaped. You laced your fingers with his and gave him a sad smile, guessing his whirling thoughts. “It’s not your fault,” you told him. “They did this. It’s not your fault.”

He felt himself crumbling. “‘M so sorry,” he breathed again. He clasped your hand firmly between his and lifted it towards his mouth, but he didn’t press it to his lips, though he wanted to. His head dropped and you could tell he was struggling not to go to pieces. He was always trying to be strong, even when he didn’t need to.

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “It’s okay…”

“No, it ain’t,” he whispered back. His voice was shaky. “Nothin’ ‘bout this is okay. That bastard’s gonna pay for—”

A grimace tightened your features and your breath hitched. The sound stopped Daryl mid-sentence. He rested your hand back down on the blanket and a panicked look crossed his face. “What? What is it?”

Your eyes closed for a moment. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head against the pillow. “It’s nothing. Just—hurts a little. Aches is all. It’s okay. I’m okay…”

Daryl gulped down his emotion and regained himself. “‘M gonna be righ’ here. Ya ain’t gonna be alone. Okay?” His thumb moved against the silky skin on the back of your hand and you nodded.

“I know,” you said, managing another weak smile.

Suddenly, the door opened quietly and Enid came back in with Maggie trailing behind her. Both of you looked up.

Enid’s face fell as she readily saw your worsened condition. Maggie’s eyes filled with a glassy light as she came to stand beside Daryl.

“How’s Tara?” Daryl asked.

“She’s not sick,” Enid replied. “No sign of the fever yet.”

“Good,” Daryl said, staring back at the paleness of your hand in his.

“But we’ve got six more so far in here, and likely more outside. I sent Carol and Jesus to check on everyone, including the prisoners,” Maggie said. She bent down and stroked your hair. Her eyes filled with tears again. “‘M so sorry,” she whispered to you. “Do ya need anythin’? Anything we can do to make you more comfortable, just ask and we’ll do everything we can.”

Daryl’s head dropped and his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll—‘m gonna be righ’ back,” he murmured. He met your eyes again. Your brow was furrowed and you were watching him carefully. “‘M gonna be back in just a minute. I promise,” he said softly.

The chair made a harsh noise as he stood up and your eyes tracked him all the way out the door.

Out in the hall, Daryl put some distance between himself and your room, striding down to the end of the hall and standing at the window, staring out at the beginnings of dawn just starting to tickle the deep blue sky with shots of pink and yellow. His fists clenched and his nails cut in little red crescent moon marks on his palms. How the fuck was the sun still coming up when you were laying in a bed dying? It felt like nothing should go on as normal ever again. He suddenly kicked out at the tall wooden cabinet beside him and it rocked and wobbled. And then he broke down. His head dropped and it was all he could do not to scream in agony at the painful chasm in his chest, sticking between his lungs and growing larger and larger as you paled and ached in that bed. Tears poured down his face and he pressed his forehead to the coolness of the glass in front of him.

He startled as a hand landed lightly on his shoulder and he hurriedly mopped his face, but when he turned he knew Maggie had already seen his overwhelming distress and grief. His shoulders shuddered as he gasped in a ragged breath and he shook his head. He saw his own pain, or some version of it, reflected on her face, and he thought of Glenn.

She only nodded and pulled him into a hug briefly. He sniffled and managed to get his breaking under control again. “Go on and be with her again. Enid and I will look after the others. Listen—when it’s time to say goodbye—”

He nodded. “I’ll send somebody to get ya’ll,” he croaked out. He mopped at his damp face again and pulled in a breath.

“Daryl, if you haven’t already, you need to tell her,” Maggie said. And with that, she headed downstairs.

Daryl took a few more deep breaths, steeled himself, and rushed back to your room. Enid gave you a kind smile and released her hold on your hand and quietly took her leave. Daryl swallowed hard and came to sit beside you again. Your eyes followed him across the room.

Your skin was feverish and he could see it making your hair and clothes damp. Had those dark circles been beneath your eyes when he’d stepped out? How long was he gone? How many minutes? It couldn’t have been more than a few, and yet you looked far worse… He got up and went to a pitcher and basin on the chest of drawers and poured in some water. Pulling out the bandana he always carried, he dunked it into the bowl and carried the whole thing over to the nightstand.

You watched him swirl the cloth in the water and wring it out. He pressed it to your forehead and it was cool. Your eyes were still trained on him. He knew you’d likely be able to tell why he’d stepped out of the room. “Here. Drink a little water if ya can,” he said, helping you with a glass Enid had brought.

You swallowed thickly and he set it aside again. “Are you alright?” you asked him. Your voice sounded thin.

He let out a dry laugh as he refreshed his bandana in the water again and dabbed at your neck. “Yer askin’ me that?” he drawled.

“Daryl,” you said softly, and your hand came up to grip his wrist, surprisingly strong. He met your eyes again and yours flickered between his.

He bit down on his bottom lip hard, trying to fight back the tidal wave and scream in his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he looked at you. Your hand floated back to the bed and the place your fingers had been felt hot. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No,” he said. “I ain’t alrigh’. And I dunno if I’ll—if I will be.”

A shiver ran through you and Daryl tossed his bandana back down in the bowl and helped you pull the blankets up to your chin. You sighed and your eyes shut for a long moment. Daryl was afraid they wouldn’t open again, but they did. And when you looked straight at him, they seemed clearer somehow, and you smiled at him again despite the devastation written all over his face.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” he asked. There was a rasp to his voice.

“You,” you breathed. “Just you.”

He ducked his head, listening to each of your breaths, analyzing them for any change. He was far too aware of his knife on his hip.

“I need you to promise me something,” you said.

“Anythin’,” he nodded, leaning in.

“Don’t let this consume you. Please. Negan’s taken enough. Don’t end up one of the casualties too. You have so much good in you. Don’t let him take that away.”

He stared at you for a long moment and then suddenly stood up and leaned over you. His rough fingers brushed gently at your hair and then clasped your face. In that moment, maybe some trick of the changing light, but he thought you looked less ashen. He saw more color in your lips and in your cheeks. Your eyes were bright.

He kissed you then. His lips landed flush against the soft pillow of yours, and it was tender and wanting and desperate and soft all at the same time. He tried to put everything he wanted to say into that kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but both of you mourned the separation, felt the profoundness of that connection as it had shifted your whole world. He sank back down at your bedside and grabbed your hand in his again, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. He refused to take his eyes off you now.

A smile grew slowly on your face and though your eyelids were heavy, the outer corners of your eyes smiled too, like they always did. “How’d you know that was on my bucket list? ‘Kiss Daryl Dixon.’”

He brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers and shook his head at you.

“I can die happy now,” you said.

“I shoulda told ya every damn day… I thought—I thought we had more time.” His voice broke on the last word.

“So did I,” you agreed. “Life’s a motherfucker like that,” you said dryly.

He almost laughed. “What ‘m tryin’ to say is I—ya know, I—” The words stuck in his chest. He couldn’t seem to get them out no matter how much he wanted to. I’ve been in love with you almost since I met ya.

“I know,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to say it, Daryl. I felt it too.” Your eyes closed again and you sighed, another grimace passed your face as your joints and muscles throbbed. “I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer,” you murmured. “I’m so tired.” You forced your eyes open again. “Would you lay with me? Please?”

Daryl’s chest ached so intensely he thought he would die of it. “Course I will.”

He came around to the other side of the bed and climbed on, scooting over toward your side until your body was almost against his. “C’mere,” he drawled, and he gently looped his arm underneath you and pulled you toward him. You felt featherlight in his arms. You laid tucked in against his body and closed your eyes. This close to you, he could easily hear your every breath, feel every shudder of your body, feel the fever and the chills—but he could also feel the shape of you, your weight, breathe your smell. Your head rested against his shoulder and nuzzled toward the crook of his neck.

“I’m so tired,” you said again, sighing. He could feel your breath on his skin. The silence stretched and his rough fingers drew absent shapes on the bare skin of your arm. Your weight grew heavier against him. “I want you to know… it’s alright if you can’t do it. At the end… It doesn’t have to be you. I need you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. Someone else can…” you trailed off.

He gulped and nodded. “I’mma be righ’ here.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your eyes were closed. “I love you…”

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “I love ya too...” His voice broke, but you didn’t hear it. You were already asleep.

He didn’t know how long he had laid there with you. He was still scrutinizing your every breath and every moment, waiting for the horrific change to take place, or waiting for you to awake in agony as the sickness progressed. But so far, you just slept on. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to, anyway.

Eventually, the door creaked open and Rick stepped in barely over the threshold before he froze, seeing Daryl there with you on the bed. They locked eyes for a moment, Rick���s eyes grew glassy and he gave a nod, but then he immediately retreated. No one should intrude on that scene. And he made sure no one would, unless they were called for.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was staring at the bright sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains. He had no concept of time as he lay there with you asleep against him. Every moment felt agonizingly long and cruelly short at the same time. He was watching the dust particles floating in the currents of air when you stirred. Your hand landed flush to the center of his chest and you turned on your side almost curling into him. He gently took your hand in his and ran his thumb over your soft skin.

Your stirred again and let out a sigh, stretching beside him. Your eyes blinked open. “Daryl…” you said suddenly.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Yeah. ‘M righ’ here.”

“I—I know.” You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand, still angled in toward him. “Daryl, look at me.”

He did. Your eyes were wide and surprised, but beyond that you looked… like yourself. The color was back in your face, in your lips. Your eyes were bright and clear. You looked well. Your name slipped past his lips.

“I’m not sick,” you said with disbelief. “I don’t feel—I mean, my bones felt like glass before. And—I’m not hot or cold. I—”

Daryl was sitting up now too, staring at you bewildered. He clasped your face and pressed his hand to your forehead. You didn’t feel feverish. Your skin wasn’t clammy. “Ya ain’t sick…” he drawled, the same disbelief dripping from every word. “Ya ain’t—” A laugh bubbled out of you as he popped up onto his knees, kneeling in front of you on the bed, staring with bafflement. “How—how?”

You shook your head. “I—I don’t know…” you stammered, your heart racing. “I felt—I was dying. I felt it. And now—I still feel like I got hit by a truck, and my shoulder hurts like a bitch but—I’m not sick.”

Daryl took your face in both of his hands and his lips crashed down onto yours. You arched into him and kissed him back, relishing the feeling of his hands drifting down to your waist and gently pressing on your lower back to pull you in against him. He still looked dumbfounded when the two of you broke apart, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I gotta—we gotta—” Daryl vaulted himself off the bed, leaving you kneeling in the middle of it, surrounded by the rumpled blankets. He ripped the door open and shouted out into the hallway. “Maggie! Enid!” He turned back to stare at you, his chest heaving as he seemed to have lost his breath. A stampede of footsteps answered and soon Enid, Maggie, Rosita, Rick, Michonne, Carol—even Tara—were bursting in looking grim and worried. Seeing their expressions, Daryl realized they all thought it was time to say goodbye to you. He hurried to correct their assumption. “She—she ain’t sick. Look! Her fever’s gone and she—she ain’t sick anymore.”

All eyes drifted to you sitting upright on the bed, almost looking as if nothing had happened to you at all.

Enid stepped forward, shock written on her face, and you could only smile as she reached a hand out and pressed the back of it to your forehead. She snapped around to look at everyone else again, a teary smile on her face. “She doesn’t have a fever,” she said, shaking her head.

A whoop went up through the room and soon nearly everyone was hugging you and kissing your cheek, patting you on the back as if you’d done anything at all consciously. But Daryl simply stood by the door, leaned up against the wall watching the scene with a teary smile on his face that wasn’t budging. As the last of your family hugged you, your eyes connected with his again and you felt a shock of electricity run up your back and butterflies erupted in your chest.

“I—I don’t understand how this is possible!” Carol laughed happily.

Rick was shaking his head, smiling.

“Has anyone ever heard of this happening before?” Rosita asked. “I mean, should we still be worried?”

Enid shrugged and shook her head, looking at a loss. “Well, it’s not the same as a bite. It seems like maybe her body was able to fight off the infection.”

Rick rubbed a thoughtful hand over his face. “Maybe it’s like how some people get sick from gutting up the first time, some people the twentieth, and some people never do.”

“Some combination of immune system and dosage maybe,” Maggie said thoughtfully, her eyes still glassy with happy tears.

“Well, whatever it is, thank God. We needed another win,” Michonne said.

Enid nodded and looked back at you on the bed. Daryl was still leaned up against the wall by the door. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. “She may not have a fever anymore but I don’t want to push it. Back in bed,” she said, grabbing hold of the blankets again. “I want you to rest. Your body has been through a lot.”

You moved a little gingerly laying down again, realizing now that your shoulder that had taken the poisoned arrow did still hurt a lot. “I’ll rest… feels like I’m still trying to shake the worse flu of my life.” Exhaustion was settling back over you again. The adrenaline had waned. But your cheeks and lips still had a healthy, rosy glow.

Enid filled the glass on the nightstand with fresh water again for you and instructed everyone to leave so you could sleep. Everyone listened, except Daryl. And somehow, everyone knew he was the exception.

He shut the door softly behind Tara as she went out and the two of you were alone again. He wandered back over to the bedside and you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes growing tired again.

“Are you still going to keep watch over me?” you asked him.

He nodded. “Mhm… now and every damn day of yer life. If you’ll have me that is…” he said a little abashedly, ducking his head. “Actually, ‘m gonna do that whether ya want me to or not.”

You smiled. “Can you do that from in this bed again? Please?”

“Are ya kiddin’?” He climbed in beside you again and you rolled toward him, tucking yourself into his body. Your breathing was strong and steady; no sign of the ragged, shallow respiration that had plagued you overnight.

“You want to know what I think saved me?” you asked, resting your head on his chest, your arm draped over him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, now feeling his own exhaustion settle over him like a heavy blanket. Now that the terror and devastation and fear and grief had receded, he was drained.

“I think you cured me. With that kiss,” you said, and he could hear a smile in your voice. “Love saved us. The universe decided it couldn’t separate us.”

Daryl let out an amused exhale. “I ain’t magic. Pretty sure this ain’t a fairy tale.”

You sighed and nuzzled against the crook of his neck. “I’m starting to think it might be,” you whispered sleepily.

Daryl’s cheek pressed against the top of your head. He tugged you in more snugly and paused thoughtfully. “Well… I do kinda gotta agree with ya there. Now, sleep,” he hushed you. “I dun wanna risk anythin’. Ya need rest.”

“You too,” you said with a yawn. “And now we’ve got time.”

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Good Luck Charm

[Arcane] Jinx x Female Reader

Summary: Jinx has been told she's a mistake and a...well, a jinx her whole life, which is why it's such a surprise when you tell her she's your good luck charm.

Word Count: 3.09k Content Warnings: A small breakdown Category: Angst + Heavy fluff || Oneshot

[A/N]: Not proofread. Just wanted a quick break in between characters again. I couldn't stop myself from writing for this dork, especially after seeing the teaser for season two.

Enjoy!

 “Alrighty, toots, I think I’m gonna head to bed. You wanna come with, or you gonna stay up a bit longer?” You turned your head over to glance at Jinx, watching as she repeatedly turned her chair partially back and forth with her eyes fixed on you. Smiling warmly, you shrugged. “Well, I’m not tired just yet, and I wanted to finish this book,” you started, watching from the corner of your eye as she seemed to slump down at your words already. “But I can just keep reading in bed.”

Jinx stood and let out a small cheer, trotting over to you and gently taking ahold of your wrist to tug you toward the bedroom you often crashed in. Ever since you had grown close to the “loose cannon” of the undercity, things in your life had rapidly changed. It started off simple – you would spend far more time hanging out with her than anyone else. Then, as things started to develop between the two of you, you began staying the night almost every night with Jinx cuddled up against you as you slept. Even when she couldn’t sleep, you could feel her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she traced random patterns against your skin.

When Jinx had told Silco of your relationship, you feared the worst, already preparing to write your will or find a way to escape his wrath. Surprisingly, though, he was rather accepting. When you asked Jinx about it in private, she told you she believed it was because he had seen how happy she had been ever since you showed up. A few days later, her theory was confirmed when Silco had called you into his office to set rules about dealing with Jinx and her issues with trust.

He warned you that Jinx could get extremely clingy and would get overprotective of you, which you had already noticed she had begun to do, so you simply nodded. He continued to speak of things such as her hallucinations and wish to keep her past a secret. You agreed to all of the terms he had set to be with his daughter, unaware of the figure stationed above you on her usual platform. Her eyes were trained solely on you, legs swinging back and forth as she let herself rest on her stomach. With her head cradled in her palms, a wide grin made its way to her lips as you calmly agreed to take care of her.

It seemed, however, that she had done the opposite, meaning she seemed to take care of you more than the other way around. More often than not, if you were outside of her hideout, it would come across more as possessive than anything. She’d blurt out insults and impulsively pick fights with people who threatened or flirted with you.

Once they realized who they were dealing with, they backed off instantly. The few poor souls who decided to test their luck suddenly went missing, as well as Jinx for a short time, and then were never seen or heard from again. You had learned to come to terms with her reckless and apathetic behavior towards outsiders rather quickly.

“Trinket? Hello? You in there, or… did ya leave this planet?” You blinked, glancing back over at the blue-haired girl as she waved her hand in your face.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about what’s going on in my book. I’m near the end, so everything is getting chaotic.” She snickered and hooked her arm around your shoulders as she led you into the bedroom. “Ah, then you’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime. You know I love a bit of chaos. Or a lot of it.” You smiled at her and rolled your eyes, playfully bumping against her and earning another chuckle.

As she plopped down to sit in her spot on the bed, she watched you silently while you flipped your book back open and sat on the other side of the mattress. Once you had leaned back against the pillows, it didn’t take long before you felt a head land gently on your shoulder. A quick look down let you know Jinx had already bundled up under the covers and shuffled over to cuddle against you for the night. With weary eyes, she peered down at the pages of your book, briefly skimming over the short excerpt of the story she could see.

Soon after, she let out a yawn and tucked her head further against your neck. “G’night, sweets. Love you.” You beamed down at her and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, hun. Sleep well.”

By the time you had finally woken back up the next day, Jinx had already been up for a few hours. She hadn’t left the bed, but she was tracing patterns and words into your arms and back. When you shifted and yawned, she smiled and perked up rather quickly, sitting up in her spot and peeking down at you. Once you had rolled over to look her in the eye, her grin only grew. “Mornin’, toots. Did you sleep well?” You nodded and sat up, yawning again.

“Yeah, what about you?” She shrugged and toyed with the hem of your sleeve. “Eh, I slept okay. I got kinda restless after a while and woke up, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

You nodded at her words. After a while of you trying to keep your eyes open, you felt Jinx lean against you and tug you close. “I don’t wanna leave to go work on those stupid experiments,” she confessed with a frown. “I just want to stay in here with you. I wish I could come down with you to your job instead.” With a small smirk, you raised a brow and glared over at her. “Oh? And why’s that?” She smirked back at you and slipped her hand down to lace your fingers with her own. “‘Cause I could keep you safe. I could beat up all the pervs that keep trying to get their nasty paws on you.”

A gentle chuckle escaped you as you pulled her further into your side. “Yeah, that’s what makes you my good luck charm. Nothing seems to go wrong for me when you’re near.” You had expected another teasing remark of some kind, though nothing came. Instead, you were greeted with silence. After a while of not receiving any kind of acknowledgment of what you had said, you looked down at Jinx. You blinked in surprise when you saw her gazing right back up at you, eyes filled with a concoction of emotions that couldn’t seem to even out.

Her brows furrowed together. One moment, she seemed confused, and the next, she seemed upset or in disbelief. Similarly to her eyes, her eyebrows couldn’t focus on which emotion to express.

“Uh, hun? You okay?”

“What’d you call me?”

“What?”

“What did you call me?”

You continued to stare at her, unsure of what you were supposed to say. “I called you ‘hun.’” She shook her head and lifted it from your shoulder to be eye level with you. “No, before that. What did you call me before that?” It took a moment for you to recall what you had said a mere moment ago. The confusion of the new situation had made it hard to wrack your memory. “‘My good luck charm?’”

She was silent for a few minutes, which felt like hours with how thick the tension had grown.

“You think I’m lucky? That I’m a lucky charm to you? Do you really think that?”

An uneasy smile and chuckle left your lips. “Well, yeah, of course I do. I mean, I always love being around you, and because of all you do for me, everything seems to go right when you’re around. You really are like a being of good luck to me.”

She seemed troubled at that, which certainly was not what you had expected. Tears welled up in her eyes and prompted them to grow glossy, though she fought them back. “But – no, I’m not lucky. I’m, I mean, my name is “Jinx” for goodness sake! I’m not good. I’m a horrible person. I mess everything up. How could you possibly believe that I’m a good luck charm? I don’t understand.” You felt your nerves spike, recognizing that she was at the beginning stages of another episode. “Woah, hey,” you whispered, placing a hand softly on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her back into reality before she could fly too far away from the present.

“No, I’m not lucky, I’m a Jinx. I’m the opposite of lucky – I’m unlucky. I didn’t – no, please, I’m not. No, shut up! She’s not trying to – stop it already!” Unintentionally, you leaned back, making sure to keep your hand in place. It seemed like Mylo had taken over again, throwing insult after insult at her and flooding her mind with false realities.

“Love, I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She glared at you, eyes fixed on you in front of her, though she seemed to be staring so far away. Her eyes flickered as though she were reading some sort of script, incoherent mumbles rolling off her tongue. “No, you shouldn’t be… you didn’t – shut up! You shouldn’t be the one apologizing!”

You remained silent, waiting for the right time to chime in as Mylo continued to torment her. Although you had no idea what he was telling her, you could get a general idea based on the few words you could make out in her sputtering.

It took forever, but she ultimately calmed down, panting for breath and clutching handfuls of hair. When she came back to her senses, she found you holding both of her hands to prevent her from tearing her strands out again. Sometime in between her episode and her break into reality, she had begun copying your breathing the way you had helped her practice each time she had gone through it in the past. At length, she sighed and let her eyes bore down into her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

Softly, you cupped her face in your hands and lifted her head up to look her in the eye. She shifted her focus away from you, unable to meet your gaze. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not mad.” The feeling of the pads of your thumbs grazing across her cheeks to wipe her tears away brought her a feeling of relief. Her tense shoulders drooped down after she sighed once again.

Moments passed. She finally forced herself to meet your eye. “Did you really mean it?” She whispered with a broken tone. “That you think I’m lucky?” You nodded with a weak grin. Again, tears pricked her eyes, though she leaned forward and buried her face in your shoulder before they could fall. Her arms lifted from her sides, hands grasping at the back of your shirt as she sucked in multiple shaky breaths.

“I’ve always thought you were lucky.”

Weeks had passed since you had started referring to Jinx as your good luck charm, then it shifted into months, and your list of nicknames began to grow. It became a common occurrence for her to hear you call her “lucky charm,” “charmer,” or even “bluebird.” It seemed as though you were shifting to just focus on positive nicknames instead of entirely pinpointing each play on the words “good luck charm,” though she wasn’t complaining.

She certainly wasn’t used to all of the compliments and the nice names. After all, she had been referred to as a jinx, a screwup, and essentially a burden her entire life up until she met Silco. It would take a while for her to accept what you said as truth, but she had started to come around to the loving nicknames. After a while, she even began to look forward to what you would call her for the day. She had started rubbing off on you in terms of nicknames as well. “Trinket” and “sweets” began to creep into your vocabulary, and she adored the way it sounded rolling off your tongue when it was directed at her.

Soon enough, the positivity had worn down part of her insecurity, so long as she was around you. You made her feel safe and secure, which wasn’t something she was used to either. Often, she could be seen practically bouncing down the halls with a cheesy grin plastered on her face, even if she had just left Silco’s office. Silco and Sevika had definitely taken notice of her sudden shift, and although Sevika didn’t understand why she was so much livelier than normal, Silco found himself smiling more often at the sight of Jinx when she’d suddenly remember the nickname you had chosen for her for the day.

When she’d sit up top on her makeshift platform in Silco’s office, she had to be given reminders in between meetings to settle down. Her legs would swing over the edge and kick at the air rhythmically, and her hands would pat randomly at the wooden planks.

She loved the nicknames, to put it bluntly. She absolutely adored them. Since that night, not once had you referred to her as Jinx. Somehow, even though everyone else called her by her known name, the mere mention of what you were calling her for the day gave her a boost of confidence. Whenever a mission would go wrong, she’d come straight to you to talk about it, then listen with a soft smile as you told her repeatedly how things would be okay and how she’s still your lucky charm.

With how suddenly all the flurry of names were thrown at her, she struggled to pick a favorite. Even so, her energy and overall glee grew daily, even beginning to show in her work. Weapons were crafted more cautiously, produced quicker, and had more expressive markings made by her oil crayons. Sevika didn’t enjoy the increase in enthusiasm, Silco certainly appreciated everything.

He still didn’t fully trust you, though it was growing increasingly obvious to him that you weren’t a threat, and in his eyes, you were there for a reason. You made Jinx happy, and that was all he really wanted in the end. As far as he was concerned, you had his blessing. He knew things could change, but after seeing how you treated her during every emotion she expressed, he figured that was a slim possibility.

As he sat in his office one day, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. The door had closed only a moment ago, and still he could hear the tapping and swaying above him. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed up at Jinx sitting on her small platform, biting back a small smile when he saw her grinning gleefully. “Jinx,” he called out just loud enough for her to hear. She finally turned her attention to him curiously. “Hm?”

“You know you need to be quiet when I have people in here. It’s very distracting with you shuffling around up there.” Jinx chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” He finally allowed himself to smile, catching Sevika off guard from her spot on the sofa. “Why don’t you spend the rest of the day with [Y/N]? You’ve earned a break, both of you.”

Instantly, Jinx dropped from her spot above and landed on Silco’s desk. She crouched down and looked him in the eye. “Really? You’re okay with that?” He nodded. “So long as you two don’t cause any major problems,” he added. She beamed brightly at his words and her eyes lit up. “Thanks!” Within an instant, she turned on her heel and hopped off the desk, already out the door and skipping down the hall to find you.

Silco grinned softly with a small shake of his head. He leaned forward again and motioned for Sevika to shut the door as he picked up a few papers to straighten them.

When Sevika returned to her spot on the sofa, she huffed out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She bit her tongue with what she wanted to say, but a look of warning from Silco made her waver. “What are you breathing so heavily for?” She waited, trying to rephrase her words before speaking them, but ultimately gave up.

“It’s nothing against either of you. I’ve just never seen her this energetic before, and I’ve seen her get energetic in the past.” To her relief, Silco hummed and smiled. “Yes, she’s certainly been in a better mood as of lately. It’s refreshing, in a way.”

Sevika waited momentarily, unsure of what to say. “You think that girl is the reason she’s been so cheery?” “I know she is. Her name is [Y/N]. She’s known Jinx for a couple of years now, and the two of them have grown quite close in such a short amount of time. I don’t entirely approve of that girl, but Jinx has taken a liking to her, and I’d be a fool to take that away from her.”

Even with her disliking of  the blue-haired girl, Sevika couldn’t help but grin at his words. “Yeah, it is nice to see she’s stable with someone. I was worried she’d drive someone away. [Y/N], was it? She’s patient, and that’s definitely good for someone like Jinx. To be honest, I’m glad they met.”

“Yes, I am as well. I suppose I should include a few of the names [Y/N] has been using to refer to Jinx as when speaking to her. It seems to put her in a better mood, as you’ve said, and I’ve noticed an improvement in her crafts and missions.” A chuckle slipped from Sevika before she could stop it. “Yeah, she hasn’t screwed up another task in a while.”

“Pardon?”

Sevika swallowed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir. It was nothing.”

All the while, as they chatted away about her improvement, Jinx trailed down the hallway and all the way to her hideout. When she saw you there, sitting comfortably by her desk in the extra chair she had pulled into the room to have you nearby while she worked, she couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her lips from ear to ear. As she grew closer, she wondered what you would refer to her as that day.

[johnbrand]

The Stages of Arabization

With @next-pharaoh

“Jeez, it’s so bright here,” Henry oriented his phone up in front of the sun, hoping to block out a few of the direct rays.

“Well, you are closer to the equator,” his boyfriend, Alex, joked. “Dubai is a bit farther south than Boston.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “What would I do without that intelligence of yours?” 

“Too bad you don’t have your own.” They both laughed at that remark. The pair had started dating in graduate school, with Alex venturing down the path of mathematics and Henry following the racial trends of Sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone joked it should have been the other way around, given Henry’s geeky, pale exterior fit the math nerd stereotype better than Alex’s lanky, darker frame. But Henry loved his studies, so much so that he had been invited to a conference in the United Arab Emirates to talk on them.

Suddenly, Henry received an email notification from one of his sponsors. “Dang, looks like I have to get back to work. Just received an essay to review before the next presentation.”

“How long do you have?”

“Barely 30 minutes.”

“Well forward it to me,” Alex replied. “We can tag team it. I know this isn’t my strong suit but at least I can help cover more ground.”

Henry thought that was a great idea. Without a second thought, he redirected the email and wished his boyfriend goodbye. Alex would send his thoughts over text when he had finished.

“‘The Stages of Arabization’,” Henry recited aloud. He was planning to head inside to read–gingers burnt way too easily in the direct sunlight–but he noticed the writing was pretty short. Barely even a page. Henry was surprised to realize the essay was in Arabic, but he quickly utilized a translator app to resolve the issue.

Stage 1: Islamization  Islam becomes the majority religion or state religion.

Strange formatting, but Henry understood the statement as rather truthful. The historically successful Arabizations of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt had followed a similar suit. Even some of the countries he had studied had shown signs of this progression.

Stage 2: Linguistic Arabization Islam brings fixation on Arabic language, thus the Arabic language becomes central to the society's identity. Arabic becomes the state language.

Henry found this statement agreeable as well. There was something so methodical about the Arabic language, how it melodically ebbed and flowed in such a way that it twirled through the hearing canals directly into the brain. Anyone who listened to it almost became entranced, as if captured by its beauty and awakened by its fluidity. Henry closed the translator app before continuing on. 

Stage 3: Cultural Arabization Arab cultural practices become common due to Islamization. Own cultural heritage is deemed closer to ages of ignorance and thus gradually forgotten and replaced with Islam.

Henry had followed this trend through his research. Many of the countries he had analyzed over the years had demonized their traditional practices once introduced to Islamic culture. It was like watching a child being given a new toy; the original quickly discarded for one deemed far more superior. These assimilations had even started to appear in Henry’s life. Thobes were the new fashion craze among his fellow researchers, midday prayer rooms had taken over labs, and even the cafeteria had become completely halal.

Stage 4: Ethnic Arabization Planned migration of many Arab tribes and deliberate suppression of the numbers of natives, consequently major demographic shift. Media encourages Arabs to multiply and mix.

This too had arrived in the workplace. Rapidly, it had become obvious that the university was prioritizing hiring Arab and Arab-American employees. Political discourse on abortion had suddenly disappeared, instead dropping birth control from medical insurances and advertising “Reversion Through Fertilization”. Luckily, Hussein had not been influenced much by this change. In fact, he almost felt as if he was somehow a part of it.

Stage 5: Fully Arab State Arabs and the Arabized become elite and majority. Non-Arabized are shunned and pressured to revert until no opposition remains.

Hussein smiled with pride, closing the essay he was sure to give high remarks to. His best friend Ali had a similar response, a text from him glowing with praise about the truth in the writer’s words. The essay was eloquent, thought-provoking, and would become mandatory literature at his lab, and soon throughout the reverting world. It reflected the future, similarly to his own phone screen: masculine, virile Arab men. Hussein felt a divine sense of conformity with Islam, one all were soon destined to see.

[xhoess]

pls can you write an happy ending angst with nicholas chavez where reader and him discuss mariage and having children in general and reader shuts down the subjects saying mariage is overrated and meaningless and she hates children and doesn’t want any. so they starts debating/ fighting and he’s flabbergasted bc they don’t have at all the same vision of life and during few days it’s very cold/tensed between them especially him bc he told her that he wanted her to be the mother of their children. but at the end she ends up telling him why she is afraid to have PPD since she had a long depression and there more risks to have post partum depression if you had been depressed, to become a bad mom like her narcissistic mom …

(Yes omg I immediately started when I saw this🥲🥲)

"Facing Fears, Finding Love"

Nicholas chavez x fem reader

Summary: When Nicholas Chavez shares his dreams of marriage and children, you shut him down, leading to a tense argument. Days of distance follow until you confess your fears of postpartum depression and becoming a bad mother due to your past struggles. Nicholas, understanding and supportive, reassures you with unconditional love. Together, you begin to rebuild trust, facing the future with renewed hope and mutual understanding.

Words: 7.6 K

The air was thick with tension, the comfortable silence that had enveloped your cozy living room now feeling stifling. The soft glow of the table lamp cast gentle shadows over Nicholas's features, but the warmth was rapidly giving way to something far colder. He sat perched on the edge of the couch, a half-empty cup of tea cradled between his hands. His gaze had shifted from the window to you, and you sensed that something in him had changed since your blunt words had cut through the evening.

His enthusiasm had been infectious just moments earlier as he excitedly shared his visions of a future filled with laughter and children. You could remember the way his eyes sparkled, how his voice had held such a soothing cadence as he painted dreamlike scenarios of family vacations, birthday parties, and the cozy chaos of everyday life. The dreams that had built up effortlessly in his imagination had felt almost tangible, revived by the warmth of your shared space.

But then you shattered that moment. You could still hear the harshness of your own voice as you declared, "Marriage is overrated and meaningless," and then coolly added, "I hate kids. I don’t want any." The sting of your words hung between you, suspended like a bitter fog that neither of you knew how to dissipate.

Nicholas's expression shifted from one of hope to confusion, and finally to pain. His brows knitted together, as if trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation, and you saw the light in his eyes dim. "Why didn’t you say something before?" he asked, his voice a tight whisper, the tremor in it revealing the depth of his shock.

You opened your mouth, intending to reply, but the words caught in your throat. "I... I didn’t think it mattered," you stuttered, the pit in your stomach tightening as you tried to pick apart your jumbled thoughts.

Nicholas shook his head, his deep-set eyes searching yours for an answer you were not ready to give. "It does matter! You make it sound like all my dreams are foolish. I always thought you’d be the mother of my children!" He stood up abruptly, his movement punctuating the tension that crackled in the room. The chair he had been perched on scraped against the floor, a sound sharp enough to increase your heartbeat.

"I didn’t realize you had those dreams," you argued, defensiveness creeping into your voice. "Why would you assume that I would fill that role? Just because we’re together doesn't mean we want the same future."

Nicholas's face crumpled at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he would crumble under the weight of your lack of understanding. "Because I thought we were building a life together," he shot back, the hurt evident in his tone. "I can’t believe you never mentioned this before. I always shared my dreams with you, and I believed you were sharing yours too. Was it all a lie?"

Your heart raced, and the sense of being cornered filled you with an urge to flee. "It’s not a lie!" you exclaimed, desperate to have him understand. "I just... I never thought you meant it so seriously. You know how I feel about kids, and you always seemed so... sure."

"But those were my hopes!" Nicholas’s voice rose, filled with bewildered frustration. "And you made me feel like I was the only one on this path. I thought we were on the same page—working toward a future together. Now I find out you’ve been harboring these feelings in secret!"

"Do you think I want this?" you replied, anger rising from a place you hadn’t known existed. "Do you think it’s easy for me to admit this? I didn’t want to disappoint you!" The words were out before you could snatch them back, biting into the already frayed fabric of the evening.

Nicholas paused, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, the realization washing over him as he processed your admission. "You must’ve known I would want to know," he said quietly, the hurt lying heavy in each syllable.

“I thought it could work,” you said, your voice betraying the edge of desperation. “I thought I could learn to want those things. But I can’t. I don’t want them.” The finality in your voice echoed around the room, but the truth collided with the storm brewing within you—a twisted mix of anger, sadness, and guilt.

Nicholas took a deep breath, visibly deflating. "I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want," he said, the warmth of his usual tone replaced by resigned coldness. "But I thought we were building a life together. I thought you were on board with this."

A painful silence descended, so thick you could nearly touch it. The more you tried to dismiss your internal storm, the louder it grew, shrieking that you could lose him, that this could be the turning point of everything you shared.

Nicholas stepped back then, retreating from your presence as if he needed physical space away from the wall he felt was being built between you. "I just... I need some air," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. And with that, he walked away, leaving the conversation unresolved, like an unfinished melody that echoed in the empty silence.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, a ghost of guilt weaving its strands through your being. You wanted to go after him, to take back your words, but instead, you remained motionless, staring into the distance, the shadow of what had just transpired pressing down on you like an anchor.

The weight of your convictions pressed heavily against your chest, but so too did the fear of what might happen next. Would he really walk away? Would this moment linger? You felt trapped between the walls of your own design, and you couldn't decide which was more terrifying: the thought of losing Nicholas or the dread of confronting the real emotions behind your aversion to his dreams.

Breathing low and shaky, you sank onto the edge of the couch, the faint sound of Nicholas’s footsteps fading into the night. You were left alone, surrounded by silence, filled with a torrent of unresolved emotions swirling deeper in the recesses of your heart.

You spent the next few days drifting through your routine like a ghost. Each morning greeted you with the same tightness in your chest, a constant reminder of the cavernous rift that had opened between you and Nicholas. You felt it as you brewed your coffee, the familiar sound of the kettle boiling echoing in your small kitchen, yet it felt so foreign without Nicholas’s laughter or his gentle teasing about your obsessive coffee-making rituals. The silence was heavy, suffocating.

Nicholas had retreated into himself, a stark shift from the exuberant man who had spent countless evenings talking about dreams and plans. Now, sitting on the couch, you watched him scroll through his phone whenever he was nearby, his eyes dull, the corners of his mouth pressed into a thin line. He seemed a million miles away, lost in thoughts you couldn't penetrate. Each glance in his direction felt like a glimpse into an impenetrable fortress—one that had been built overnight after that fateful evening.

As you prepared your meals, the routine felt strangely haunting. You would plate two servings, only to find yourself taking the food to the table in silence. The atmosphere was heavy with unspokenness, punctuated only by the clattering of utensils. Nicholas would sit opposite you, often looking down at his food, as if it was the most fascinating spectacle in the world. After a few awkward bites, he would excuse himself, muttering something about an early start the following day. You would watch him go, the door swinging shut like the final nail in the coffin of your conversation.

In the evenings, you found yourself gravitating toward the living room window, staring out at the street below, watching people pass by with their laughter and carefree chatter. Your heart ached as you thought of how easy it had once been for you and Nicholas to share such moments, laughing and dreaming about the future. Now, memories felt like daggers, cutting deeper with each recollection of his face lighting up while talking about a family.

You tried to reach out, to bridge the distance, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, words got stuck in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many unexpressed fears that loomed over you like dark clouds. You didn’t want to unpack them in front of Nicholas, especially after how he had looked at you in shock. Instead, you chose solitary evenings, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book, pretending to be engrossed in stories that danced around you but never quite touched your heart.

Occasionally, you’d catch Nicholas’s eye, and in those brief moments, your heart would flutter with hope. Maybe he’d reach out, maybe he’d say something… But each time, he just looked away, as if he were afraid to delve into that abyss of unexpressed thoughts. It reminded you of the time a friend had brought an injured bird to your doorstep. You both stared at it, sympathizing with its struggle, but when it came to the actual act of helping, you froze. Both of you had chosen to leave it alone, believing it was better that way.

One evening, as golden twilight faded into cool dusk, things grew unbearable. The silence felt like a living entity, twisting around you both like vines, choking the air. You found yourself standing by the window, tracing patterns on the glass with your fingers, when Nicholas’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but laden with weight.

“Are you just going to keep shutting me out?” he asked, his tone edged with pain.

You turned slowly, locking eyes with him. There was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache. Memories surged, unbidden—moments of joy, laughter, and warmth—and it shattered something inside you. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words cowered, retreating back into the shadows of your mind.

Nicholas stepped closer, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans as if they were the only anchor he had left. “We can’t keep doing this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t look at me the way you used to. I feel like I’m losing you.”

His admission cut deeply, the truth of his words reverberating within you. You wanted to scream that you were still there, still the person who loved him fiercely, but the fear of unveiling your struggles kept your tongue tied. Instead, you bit your lip, the taste of dread pooling in your stomach.

“I’m...fine,” you said, the lie tasting bitter on your lips as you looked away.

“Fine? You think this is fine? You closed yourself off after that night, and I am left here, feeling like some kind of stranger. I just want to understand,” he urged, his voice thickening with emotion.

His frustration hung thick in the air, and you felt an overwhelming urge to run, to hide away from the truth that loomed behind your eyes—the fear, the apprehension—a tangled web of hurt that you were still unraveling.

“Just leave me alone,” you finally managed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It was a defense mechanism, your voice detached and flat, concealing the tempest inside.

Nicholas’s face fell, eyes wide with hurt. “Why are you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I can’t make sense of any of this! I thought we were in this together!”

His words stung, and you stood there, feeling the distance grow wider, casting long shadows in the light of the fading day. “You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered, the admission barely escaping your lips.

With that, he turned and walked away, the weight of his footsteps reverberating through the quiet of the house. You could hear the sound of the door shutting behind him, blunt and final, and you were left standing alone in that echoing silence, the guilt rising inside you like a relentless tide.

As the minutes turned to hours, you sat on the edge of the couch, your head spinning with confusion. You were filled with guilt for not sharing your fears, yet terrified of how he would react if you did. As darkness enveloped the room, so did the realization that the love you cherished felt like it was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

In the emptiness, you found yourself wavering in that fragile silence, torn between the love you had for Nicholas and the walls you had built to shield yourself from the storm raging within. As night deepened, and shadows crept along the walls, you sat encased in loneliness, wondering if the silence between you could ever be broken.

You had counted the hours, but when you were finally able to measure the silence in days, it felt like a weight pressing against your chest. The quiet hung in your apartment like an uncomfortable guest who had overstayed their welcome. The remnants of heated words still echoed in your mind, taunting you as you passed through rooms once filled with laughter and conversation. You thought about reaching out to Nicholas, but each time you opened your mouth to speak, words crumbled in your throat, frail and weak.

The living room, once a sanctuary of warmth, had become a battleground adorned with remnants of the life you shared—the cozy blanket on the couch, the coffee mug still resting on the side table from a time before the argument erupted. Now, even the soft tremble of the air felt altered—thick, stifling. Nicholas had barely spoken since that fateful night, his eyes betraying a hurt that cut deeper with each glance as he withdrew further into himself.

You were busy preparing dinner—an unremarkable pasta dish—when you heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock. Nicholas entered the house, and the mere act of him crossing the threshold somehow intensified the suffocating silence. You turned your back to him, focusing on the bubbling pot as if it could distract you from the gravity of the moment.

“Hey,” Nicholas said softly, his voice barely rising above the sound of water boiling, but you felt the tremor in it as if the ground beneath you was shifting. You willed your heart to slow, taking a deep breath, bracing yourself for the waves of anxiety that threatened to pull you under.

“Hey,” you managed to murmur without turning around. There was a heaviness in the air between you, a chasm of unspoken words stretching wide. You sensed him lingering in the doorway, unsure of how to breach the wall that had crashed down between you.

After an interminable moment, he finally stepped forward. “I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “I can’t stand this silence.” His words wrapped around you, both a lifeline and a knife. “You feel so far away. Why have you shut me out?”

His vulnerability struck you. The warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and despite the tension, a part of you longed to lean into him, to bridge that unbearable distance. But fear held you back, chaining you in place. You turned to face him, and the sight of his pained expression tugged at something deep inside.

“I don't know where to start,” you finally confessed, your voice wavering. “It’s just...everything has changed so quickly.”

Nicholas stepped closer, his eyes glimmering with concern. “You’re not making sense. I don’t understand what’s going on in your head, but it hurts to feel like you don’t want to share that with me.”

His words cut deeper than any shattering argument. You felt exposed and raw, and yet, in his gaze, you saw the remnants of the love you once felt so confident about. “You want to build a life together, Nicholas,” you said, trying to keep your tone even, but the tremor was there no matter how hard you fought against it. “You want a family, and I...I don’t want that. Not now, not ever.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned, his voice deepening with disbelief. “You never told me this. I always thought—” The weight of his words hung heavy, full of memories and dreams you once shared. He paused, swallowing hard as he looked away, as if seeking some kind of answer in the shadows of the room.

“You always thought I’d be the mother of your children,” you echoed, the bitterness you felt welling at the back of your throat. “So did I. But things don’t always turn out the way we plan, do they?”

His expression twisted with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “Why do you feel the need to shut me out? This isn't just about you. This is about us. Don’t you see how much you’ve changed and how much I care?”

“I just can’t think about that now!” you exclaimed, feeling the bubbling turmoil spilling over. “Life is messy. It's scary, Nicholas! I’m terrified, and I don’t want to repeat the mistakes that were made with me. I don’t even want—”

“Then what do you want?” he pressed, his frustration mounting, but his eyes softened, a glimmer of fear sparking behind them. “Tell me what you want. Do you want to be with me? Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t...” You hesitated, the internal battle raging loudly in your mind. You wanted to collapse into his arms and cry until there was nothing left, but each time you attempted to find the words, your throat constricted, as if afraid of the truth spilling out. The thought of his disappointment crushed you further, and the rawness of your own feelings cut deeply.

With a defeated breath, he whispered, “You know how much I love you, right? You’re my everything. I just always thought… I thought we were on the same path.” He looked down, and you could see the shadows of his dreams fading behind the weight of your words.

Panic clawed at your chest. You’d never intended to destroy the future he envisioned, but here you were, standing among jagged edges and broken pieces of trust.

“I thought you’d be the one to help me build a family,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. You saw the hurt in his expression, and somewhere in that pain, you felt the truth of your own: you were losing him.

With that realization clawing at your heart, he turned away, moving toward the door again, each step reverberating with a heavy finality. “I need some air,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this right now.”

In that moment, as you watched him walk away, the silence between you felt unbearable. You fell back against the cold counter, wrapped in a cocoon of guilt—but your mind spun in chaos, unable to clarify the thoughts clamoring for attention. You were afraid of losing him, yet still lost in your own shadows.

And between you and Nicholas, the door closed, sealing away all the words that now felt too heavy to utter.

The air in the room was heavy, thick with anticipation and unsaid words. You stood at the window, staring out at the dimming sky, the fragments of dusk spilling hues of orange and purple across the horizon. Each fleeting moment echoed your racing heartbeat, the silent battle raging within. Nicholas sat across the room, observing you with an intensity that made your heart clench. How had things escalated so quickly? One moment, you were weaving dreams of a future together, and the next, you'd shattered all that with a single sentence.

"Marriage is overrated and meaningless," you had said, and in return, you'd seen the light dim in Nicholas's eyes, the shock and hurt etched across his features like an unwelcome painting. Now, silence loomed around you, oppressive and thick, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

You turned away from the window, taking a step towards him, your feet heavy with uncertainty. Nicholas's expression remained guarded, a portrait of hurt and confusion, as if he were still trying to shield himself from the blow you'd dealt. But you couldn’t maintain the façade of indifference any longer. The truth clawed at your insides, begging for release.

"Nicholas," you began, your voice trembling. "I—"

He lifted his hand to silence you gently. “Please, just let me speak.”

So you fell silent again, heart racing as you waited for him to find the right words. He took a deep breath, and you could see the struggle behind his calm exterior.

“You shut me out, and I—” he hesitated, a shudder of emotion flitting across his face. “I thought you were my partner, but suddenly, I feel like I don’t even know you.”

You felt a swift pang of guilt. How could you expect him to understand? The words you wanted to speak slid around inside your mind like fish in a bucket, eluding you—but the truth was surfacing, rising, clawing its way out as you felt the weight of these hidden fears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quieter now, softened by the weight of his pain. “I thought we were on the same page. I pictured us having a family together, sharing our lives… You never mentioned this.”

“I was afraid,” you confessed, the small admission at the tip of your tongue suddenly relieving. “Afraid of what you’d think of me.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything. I’m here, I love you,” he said, his voice almost pleading, and in his eyes, you saw the glimmer of hope, the raw sincerity of someone who was struggling to piece this puzzle together.

“I don’t want to be a failure,” you said, the words tumbling from your lips before you could catch them. You could see Nicholas’s confusion deepen, but you pressed onward, feeling the dam within you begin to crack. “I grew up watching my mother, who was supposed to be my protector, but she was… twisted. Emotional scars… they don’t heal easily, and I’m terrified of becoming her.”

Nicholas remained silent, his eyes widening with concern. The deeper you delved, the closer you felt to that dark recess of your past—unprocessed memories of chaos and confusion. “You know I struggled with depression,” you admitted, your throat tightening, “and I’ve read how that increases the risk of postpartum depression. It’s terrifying.”

As his expression shifted from confusion to understanding, you felt an odd sense of relief. “I don’t want to bring kids into this world and hurt them the way she hurt me. What if I can’t control it? What if I can’t be what they need?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you felt vulnerable, yet somehow lighter. Nicholas remained quiet, absorbing the weight of your fears, filtering through the chaos you shared.

“Please, say something.” You could hardly bear the silence. The truth of your feelings had surfaced, and now, you needed him to meet you there.

“That makes sense,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I’d known sooner. But I’m here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I love you for you, and I want what makes you happy. We can face this together.”

His words reached out to you, digging around the rawness you felt and slowly stitching it back together. The flutter of panic that had threatened to consume you began to ease, though the scars remained, raw but acknowledged.

“I want you to know that you're not destined to repeat any cycle,” he said softly, closing the space between you, his hands reaching for yours. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this.”

Tears streamed quietly down your face as you felt an unexpected warmth envelop you. The release of your fears had opened a door, one you’d thought was locked forever. You took a shaky breath, touched by his understanding, and nodded in silent appreciation.

“You’ll be an amazing mother if that’s what you choose, and I know that,” he continued, voice steady, “but I want you to choose it for the right reasons—not because of fear dictating your decisions.”

His touch felt like home, and you leaned into him, finally free to be vulnerable, shedding the layers you had clutched onto for so long. You didn’t realize how much you craved this connection until it enveloped you.

“What a relief,” you murmured against his shoulder, and you felt him relax against you.

As the two of you stood there, bound by shared secrets and the promises of understanding, it became clear that while the future may still remain uncertain, you had taken the first brave step in facing it together. Yet, deep down, you knew the path was still long, unfurling ahead of you like the dimming light of the outside world.

But for now, you were not alone. The chapter was still unwritten, but a flicker of hope danced softly in the shadows.

You sit across from Nicholas, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of your confession still hovering in the air like a thick fog. Tears glimmer in your eyes, but the raw honesty you’ve just shared brings to life an entirely different kind of fear—fear of his reaction. The silence between you feels heavy, as if the world has paused, awaiting his response. You can barely breathe, the anticipation hanging like an unspoken promise.

Nicholas shifts in his seat, his expression unchanging for a moment that feels like an eternity. He looks deeply into your eyes, searching not just for what you’ve voiced, but for all the fears and insecurities that still linger unspoken. His brow furrows as his mind processes the layers of your confession, the vulnerability laid bare between you.

Finally, he exhales softly, the breath escaping him like a gentle wave retreating back into the ocean. “I…I had no idea,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry you felt you had to carry this alone.” His tone is tender, and you can sense the sincerity woven through his words.

You blink, trying to hold back more tears. The empathy in his voice warms your heart, yet guilt creeps in, gnawing at you for the burdens you've placed on him without sharing. You have kept this hidden for so long, convinced that being strong meant being silent. In his gaze, you see not just the hurt, but an earnest desire to understand.

“I wish you had told me sooner,” Nicholas continues, his expression softening as he brushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize. “But I understand why it was difficult for you.” There’s a longing in his voice, an ache for connection, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

“I was scared you would leave,” you admit, the words spilling out. “I thought if I could just pretend, maybe it wouldn't become a problem.” You feel exposed, both terrified and relieved as you unearth the truth. “I didn’t want to disappoint you… or lose you.”

Nicholas reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, warm and grounding. He squeezes gently, breaking through the walls of tension that once surrounded you both. “You could never disappoint me. I love you too much for that,” he assures you, his voice calm and steady, a lighthouse guiding you through the stormy sea. “This is a journey we can take together, however long it needs to be.”

His words ebb the tide of your fears, and you watch as a soft resolve spreads across his features. “You’re not alone, and you don’t have to go through this by yourself,” he continues, his grip tightening reassuringly. “We’ll figure this out, step by step, together.”

Your heart swells, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over you, but doubt still lingers like a shadow at the back of your mind. “But what if I can’t overcome this?” you ask, your voice trembling as uncertainty floods in once more. “What if…I’m really not meant to be a mother?”

Nicholas’s gaze intensifies, a fierce protection enveloping his eyes. “That’s not true,” he says firmly. “You’re not your mother. You’re stronger than that, and I know you can break the cycle.” His voice is a balm, soothing the wounds you've carried for so long. “We can learn. We can seek help if you need it. You could even talk to a therapist with me… whatever you need.”

His willingness to tread into those uncharted waters with you ignites a spark of hope, yet your heart weighs heavy as a sense of fragility looms between you. “You really mean that?” you ask, your voice a whisper, almost fearfully fragile.

“Absolutely,” he nods, his tone reassuringly steady. “The love I have for you isn’t conditional on motherhood or marriage. It's about us, our connection, our partnership. And I’m not going anywhere.” He looks deep into your eyes, his resolve unwavering. “We’ll face whatever comes, together.”

The intensity of his promise warms your chest, pouring light into the dark corners of your fear. Nicholas’s breath mingles with yours as the distance that once felt insurmountable begins to fade with every reassuring word. You feel something shift in your heart, like the first thaw of spring after a long winter.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you lean in closer, until your foreheads almost touch. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, easing the tension that has knotted your heart for days. You take in the tangible sense of togetherness, feeling more at ease than you’ve felt in a long time.

But as you search his eyes, uncertainty lingers still—a flicker of concern reflecting back at you. “You know, even if we decide to have kids one day, it will take time for me to be ready—if I ever truly am. I don’t want you to wait for something that may never happen,” you confess, your heart aching with vulnerability.

Nicholas pauses for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you like a soft blanket. “I’d rather wait for you than rush into a decision that doesn’t feel right,” he responds, his voice filled with patience and understanding. The kindness in his eyes tells you that he truly means it, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you begin to believe that maybe you could share this journey of self-discovery together.

As the two of you sit in silence, the noise of the outside world fades into the background. In that stillness, you realize that the road ahead may not be easy, but holding onto each other through it offers a kind of comfort you’ve never truly experienced before. Nicholas’s presence feels like home, and with that thought, you draw a breath deep into your lungs.

The chapter ends with Nicholas pulling you into a comforting embrace. Lost in his warmth, the realization washes over you: although fear still lingers, it no longer feels insurmountable. Together, you can navigate the unknown, one step at a time.

The air felt different between you and Nicholas in the days following your heartfelt confession. The emotional storm that had raged in your hearts for what felt like an eternity was finally beginning to calm, but the residue of tension lingered like a faint, stubborn smell—too subtle to pinpoint, yet always there. You could almost see the invisible threads tethering you two together, slowly being rewoven, one earnest conversation at a time.

Nicholas had become a constant presence beside you, both a pillar of support and a gentle nudge urging you to confront your fears. The warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the soft, understanding glances he tossed your way when you faltered, made you feel safer. The distance had shrunk, but trust was a fragile thing, one that required careful nurturing.

It started on a Monday evening. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue through the small kitchen window and wrapping you both in a soft glow. You were in the midst of organizing the clutter on the counter—a resurrected pile of bills and unwritten grocery lists that had become a silent witness to your distraction over the past few weeks. Nicholas stood nearby, stirring a pot of simple pasta, the unmistakable aroma of simmering garlic wafting through the air.

“Hey,” he called softly, breaking the silence that had become comfortable in its own right. “What do you think about planning a little getaway this weekend? Just you and me. Somewhere quiet.”

You turned toward him, the rhythm of your thoughts disrupted. “A getaway? Like… a vacation?” The notion stirred a note of excitement within you that had long been dormant. The idea of distancing yourselves from the daily grind—of seeking solace together—sparked a flicker of hope.

Nicholas nodded, his expression earnest. “Someplace where we can talk, be open. I think we both need a little time to breathe, to focus on each other.”

Feeling a rare swell of emotion, you put down the bill you had been sorting through. “You really think it would help?” There was a hint of disbelief in your voice, as if you had almost forgotten the two of you could enjoy simple pleasures together amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Absolutely. Just you and me. And maybe some nature, fresh air, and absolutely no distractions,” he replied, a knowing smile stretching on his face. “We can figure things out together. No pressure.”

You glanced at the pot of pasta simmering away; the steam rising was almost hypnotic. But between each soft putter of the boiling water, you felt the pull of uncertainty—a reminder of the fears that still loomed, like shadows in the background. “What if we focus so much on talking that we end up pushing each other away again?” The doubt slipped out before you could rein it in.

Nicholas sighed softly, placing the wooden spoon down on the counter. He turned to face you fully, allowing the playful banter to fade into the realm of sincerity that had become your new norm. “It’s part of healing, isn’t it? We can’t avoid the tough conversations forever.”

Looking into his eyes, which sparkled not just with love but also with a determination to work through this together, you could see how deeply this mattered to him. Your insecurities waged war inside you, and still, the thought of turning away from that possibility sent a wave of panic crashing through.

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying with resolve. “Let’s do it. A weekend away sounds perfect.” A tentative smile grazed your lips, igniting a glimmer of excitement. Perhaps this was the step you both needed.

As the week rolled by, the anticipation of your weekend getaway began to thaw the lingering frost in your relationship. Each night, you and Nicholas shared small glimpses of normalcy—watching your favorite shows, cooking together, and sometimes, just sitting side by side in silence, the once-painful quiet now a source of comfort.

The more open your conversations became, the more you began to reflect on what had once driven a wedge between you. You realized how easy it had been to retreat into yourself, a learned reaction rooted in your past disappointments. With Nicholas, though, you found safety in honesty—a revelation that came like a dawn after a long, dark night.

On Friday evening, you guys piled into the car with a playful mix of excitement and nervous energy. The road stretched before you like an unwritten story, your destination a small cabin nestled in the woods, just far enough away from bustling city life for you to truly escape. As you drove, Nicholas took your hand, intertwining your fingers—a simple gesture that sent warmth coursing through you.

“Just you and me,” he repeated, glancing at you with a soft smile that spoke volumes. The trees gradually transformed from a blur to individual silhouettes with each passing mile—stories waiting to be told, mysteries to unravel.

When you finally arrived, the cabin stood sturdily against the backdrop of towering pines and a rapidly darkening sky. It felt like a hidden treasure, a safe harbor from the storms that had threatened to destroy everything you held dear. Stepping inside, the scent of cedar enveloped you, mingled with a crackling fire that flickered warmly in the stone fireplace.

As you settled into the space, the initial thrill of the getaway settled into a tender stillness. You sat on the couch, the warmth of the fire playing along the walls as Nicholas draped an arm around you. “Here’s to new beginnings,” he toasted, raising an imaginary glass. Laughter bubbled from your lips—an echo of familiarity, the joy somewhat striking in its discomfort after the recent storm.

The evening unfurled like a blanket, soft, reassuring. Comforted by the gentle sounds of the wilderness outside, you found the courage to engage in small talk that danced around deeper fears. “I’ve been thinking about therapy,” you admitted quietly as you both watched the flames flicker.

“Really? I think that’s a great idea,” Nicholas said, his voice encouraging as he leaned closer. “And I’d love to go with you. I want to be part of your journey in any way I can.”

His words resonated like a soothing lullaby, and for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the walls closing in. The conversation turned to lighter topics—memories, holiday plans, and silly dreams. And amid the laughter, you realized that rebuilding trust didn’t just stem from big declarations—it thrived in the everyday moments, the tenderness shared in glances and gestures.

As the night deepened, ultimately it became clear: fear and love could coexist, but it was how you navigated the waters between them that defined your journey. Slowly, you began to understand that while you didn’t have all the answers, the effort to communicate was your most significant step forward.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sprawling beach. Waves lapped softly at the shoreline, their rhythmic cadence soothing the remnants of tension that had once gripped your heart. You walked along the sands, hand in hand with Nicholas, each step feeling lighter than the last. It was a picturesque scene—one that felt vibrant and alive—much like the renewed connection you both shared.

“How perfect is this?” Nicholas broke the silence, glancing at you with a smile that lit up his face. His eyes sparkled with the same warmth as the setting sun, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“It is,” you replied, letting the gentle breeze ruffle your hair. It was moments like this that reminded you how far you’d come. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, mirroring the vast possibilities of the future laid out ahead.

Nicholas paused, pulling you closer as you walked. His presence felt reassuring, grounding. You had spent countless sleepless nights processing your fears, the weight of your mother’s shadow looming large. Yet here you were, finally facing those insecurities, hand in hand with someone who promised to navigate the unknown by your side.

“Can you believe how much has changed since our fight?” Nicholas asked, his tone hinting at disbelief, yet filled with hope.

You could hardly believe it yourself. The storm that had once threatened to capsize your relationship now felt like a distant memory—something you had survived together, anchored in honesty and understanding.

“What we talked about… it’s not gone, but it doesn’t feel as terrifying anymore,” you confessed. “I think facing it head-on made it easier to breathe.”

Nicholas nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tightening around yours. “I’m just glad we’re both willing to talk about it. Can you imagine how different things would be if we didn’t have that conversation?”

You shuddered at the thought. The idea of burying your fears, of risking silence over honesty, felt suffocating. “I know I was scared to share my feelings before,” you began, looking up at him. “But your reaction…it changed everything for me.”

His eyes softened at your words. “I’m always here for you. It’s just a matter of finding the right way to open up. I wanted to be supportive but didn’t know how. I never want you to feel like your fears make you less deserving of love.”

There was a richness to his voice that filled you with warmth. Nicholas had done more than express his love—he had actively opened the door to healing. Knowing that he was here to buoy you through those moments of despair allowed you to cultivate hope.

With the sun now sinking lower, the sky was ablaze with color—blues and violets mixing with the fading gold of the day. You settled down on a nearby blanket laid out earlier, creating a cozy spot to watch the world’s beauty unfold. Nicholas joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, his presence an anchor in a world that often felt chaotic.

“What if we made it a tradition?” he suggested, gazing out at the water, which glistened in the dimming light like thousands of diamonds scattered across the surface. “Coming here, whenever we need a reset. Just you and me.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining countless sunsets shared together, a space ever filled with laughter and honesty. “I love that idea. It’s like a reminder that we can always come back to each other.”

Nicholas turned to face you, his expression earnest. “And we’ll continue to talk, to share. About everything. There’s no shame in discussing our fears. Sometimes they’ll deepen but others, like with kids… it’s no longer just a ‘what-if’ if we approach it together. It’s just a matter of time.”

The thought made your heart race, fluttering with both excitement and lingering fear. “I want that, but it terrifies me still.”

It’s okay to feel that way,” he assured you, his gaze steady. “What’s important is that we’re growing together. We won’t rush anything—but we both know facing that chapter when we’re ready, together, is what counts.”

That sense of mutual understanding allowed a certain relief to wash over you. Navigating the future felt less like a solitary journey through treacherous waters and more like a gentle drift under the stars, together in a small boat.

“I never thought I would feel this way,” you admitted softly. “About children, about us. That I could come to terms with my past while looking forward to what’s ahead, no matter what it looks like.”

Nicholas smiled, his warmth radiating through you as his thumb gently stroked your arm. “You’re not destined to repeat your mother’s mistakes. You’re stronger than you realize. Whatever route we take, I promise to be alongside you. You’ll never be alone in this.”

The final flush of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the twilight wrapping you both in a cocoon of soft shadows. You leaned your head against Nicholas’s shoulder, comforted by his promise and knowing that trust had been rebuilt through vulnerability.

“Let’s make plans,” you said suddenly, a surge of bravery rising within you. “Not just about kids but about us. Let’s talk about where we see our lives heading—the little things we can do to nurture our love.”

Nicholas’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Absolutely. Maybe we can start with that cooking class you mentioned or exploring some new trails for hiking?”

“Or finding a place together!” you proposed, a giddy anticipation bubbling inside.

The possibilities felt endless, a blank canvas primed for new experiences. In that moment, everything shifted—the uncertainty you once feared began to fade, replacing it with eagerness and hope.

As you both made tentative plans for the future, a sense of exhilaration enveloped you. You grasped his hand tighter, feeling the warmth of connection both profound and palpable.

You realized, perhaps for the first time, that the future was not just a timeline filled with uncertainties; it was a landscape you would cultivate together, day by day, moment by moment.

Nicholas pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as the last traces of daylight disappeared. Together, you stared out into the darkening sea, where the stars began to twinkle overhead. No longer on the precipice of fear, you knew deep within that you would face whatever came—together, always.

In that tranquil embrace, you felt a swell of gratitude wash over you. For love. For trust. For new beginnings. As the waves rolled in softly beneath the starlit sky, you held onto hope tightly and realized:

Your journey was only just beginning.

[glittering-snowfall]

You love Ginger Fitzgerald because you think she's a girlboss.

I love Ginger Fitzgerald because she's a pathetic and compellingly mean-spirited social outcast who wants to fuck her sister – because she’s a metaphorical rape victim (taking into account the lycanthrope attack was deliberately filmed to reflect a rape) who becomes the monster that destroyed her, enacting similar violence upon a loved one, emulating the patriarchy while nominally lashing out at it – because her actions are a result of her trauma, the result of her circumstances: the incest born of the isolation that comes from bullying and the inward-coiling of a life among dead-end streets, a life already unlived because the suburbs suffocate, fostering an unhealthy closeness because eyes that look are not eyes that see, and the perpetuation of untroubled suburban normalcy means she can blur boundaries in plain sight – but, even then, she is not one-dimensionally evil because she’s a teenager struggling with a life that she cannot escape, that the attack proves to her is inescapable – is she a deeply repressed lesbian? that might be my read, but she doesn’t have the tools to find herself in a healthy way, and she doesn’t live long enough to be able to come into her own, her “coming-into-her-own” is just the death-spiral of a body she never asked to be in, mutilated by circumstances she never asked to suffer, the mutilations staying and shifting even as the wounds heal over rapidly in the bright light of denial – her transformation lending itself to so many different trans readings, transmasc Ginger, transfem Ginger, nonbinary Ginger, in any case, puberty is hell, confines of cul-de-sacs, dead ends made flesh, the sisters' death project an effort to make those dead ends into flesh, turn their flesh into art and art into defiance… but your own body screws you, screws you, screws you, circling back to violation, violation done unto her and done by her to others – and yet the film has compassion for her until she breathes her last breath, even as she breathes her last breath and bleeds and Brigitte has had her cinematic arc of declaring, “I’m not dying in this room with you!”; even after that, Brigitte still stays with her, still loves her, and there was love in Ginger in spite of everything that went wrong, and those words “everything that went wrong” are not meant to elide the abuse and that word “love” is not meant to absolve it, but the love is still there – even as it hardens into use, everything corrupted by control, taught by time that you are trapped and the only triumph is trapping others – she’s still a girl who may not be a girl begging violently not to be alone – and she’s not alone in the end, even as Brigitte has come into her own in a way Ginger could not (or tried to come into her own, the coming year bringing ghosts for Brigitte that are Ginger’s making and Brigitte’s own mind’s) even as B has fulfilled her cinematic arc of becoming her own without Ginger, she still holds Ginger close in death, B still loves her even as she realizes she cannot survive with her, the film’s music still mourns her, the film still mourns her – because, whatever she was, she did not deserve to be eaten alive from the inside out, strangled in her own skin – and I love her because I pity her as I pity Brigitte, both of them victims, I pity her because Ginger is as much a victim as she is a victimizer, and I am not using her victimhood to disregard the fact she is a victimizer – but I love her because I connect with her body betraying her, with the denial as things get worse and worse until all that is left is explosion (I connect with Brigitte too, more deeply, in fact – Brigitte at war with her own body the way I am at war with my own body – but I cannot pretend I don’t connect with Ginger and her denial, her collapse in denial that these changes were wrong, because I lived that several years of my life – and I cannot pretend I don’t connect with Ginger just because I have a more ‘palatable’ option in Brigitte), I love her because she’s a child who never got the chance to grow up.

We are not the same.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dire iv, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook and his wolf girlfriend are going on a date! Outside!! Not just fucking in his bedroom all day! Who would have thought? (Not me.) Can't get ahead of ourselves though. She has to attended to her official duties and him? Unfortunately, he begins to realize the world around him is much crueler than he thought.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world-building, the Dire = wolf people, species discrimination / prejudice; maknae line goon antics; smut (fem reader, spit kink (an understatement), unprotected sex (ty biology), m and f-receiving oral, face-fucking, cowgirl, creampie, cum-eating, biting/marking, m-masturbation, doggy); violence; non-idol!AU - werewolfAU / soulmates; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between JK's POV, your POV, and the Dire Alpha's POV (your dad), ft bodyguard!Park Jimin and bodyguard!Kim Taehyung

best doggirl and the spit kink king are back! my writing style has changed from 2021, did my best to summarize as you read but if you want the other parts: (i), (ii), (iii) happy birthday JK 2024! enjoy this gift? XD inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

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part iii

-

“You have to admit. You look really cool.”

Those dark gold eyes seemed to burn. The wet, visceral sound of black lips peeling back, revealing sharp, white teeth that could tear holes into his flesh with ease. They glistened in the moonlight, along with her pink tongue that lolled out, curling over the edge of her snout in a slow, predatory motion.

Sexy as fuck.

Jeon Jungkook tried not to quiver in excitement, but he was sure his death grip on the silvery fur of her chest was giving him away. Underneath his knuckles he could feel hard muscle and the heavy thud of his mate’s heartbeat. Well, there was probably some technicality in that wording, but that didn’t stop him from already thinking it.

“I’m starting to think you might like this form more than my human form.”

The female Dire wolf mused, tilting her head, breathing above his hair. He had continued to bleach it the ashy blond with a darker shadow root. His scalp wasn’t happy about it, but Jungkook liked to think of it as complimentary to the love of his life. Yes, uh, the giant wolf with the black-tipped silver fur sitting in his bedroom. Yes. Her thick tail thumped on the hardwood. She was doing that thing.

That thing with her saliva.

“I… I d-don’t…” Jungkook panted, but he was rapidly losing the plot.

The Dire seemed to grin.

“At least during sex.”

Drool slipped down the edge of those black lips and splattered onto his forehead, making him moan and close his eyes. He tried not to writhe, to scream, to collapse. There was no human ecstasy that could match what was surging through his veins now. It was a crime to call it spit. The second the drips hit his skin, his nerves seemed to sing with carnal need, all sensations heightened with a single drop. The wolf dipped her head, splashing saliva down his chest, and, as if possessed, his hands flew up and smeared it all over him, sending himself into a feral frenzy as it felt the slick liquid leak through his fingers, cling to his skin, down his abdomen, hot, burning, intense, his lungs on fire with primal desire. He could not speak.

His knees gave out.

He felt a padded, leathery paw catch him, claws nicking at his arm, and then a tuft of softness by his legs. Her tail. But before Jungkook could say anything, do anything, scramble to screw his brain on right, her tongue descended and pressed flat against his sternum.

“O-O-Ooooh, fuck meeeeeee...”

He opened his eyes to a hazy vision of pointed jaws, sending another surge of violent need through him, but at this point he could do nothing but submit, pinned to the ground, hypnotized by bright gold eyes as the wolf slid down, wrapping her tongue around his achingly hard shaft with teeth bared.

Okay, so, maybe Jungkook was a kinky freak but that was because of biology.

Not by choice.

Er, right.

And he wasn’t a furry.

Right.

The tip of her wolf tongue hoked around the oversensitive head of his cock and made his head snap back, nearly knocking himself out as pleasure tore through his blood. It was similar to human sex, except multiplied hundredfold, nearly resulting in an out-of-body experience. His palms slapped the floor, curling into fists in attempt to ground himself with knuckles into wood. Jungkook could relate the fetishists that obsessed over the Dire and willingly became sex slaves. Not that he condoned it per se, but, well, pot calling the kettle black and all that.

The sound of grinding bone.

A deep growl that turned into a husky chuckle.

Her human form was as beautiful as her wolf form. He marveled how quickly she could transform in front of his eyes, with her mouth hardly leaving his skin. She still retained her silvery ears and fluffy tail, the telltale features of the Dire, along with the wolf tattoo on her left hand. Like all of her kind, she had a serial number. But she was more than numbers. Scarred skin, powerful muscles, a mole under the inner corner of her right eye. An unmistakable air of regality and overwhelming power. She was, indeed, the Dire Alpha’s one and only daughter.

And, in Jungkook’s humble and purely unbiased opinion, insanely hot.

“And you say you could handle me while I’m in heat,” she taunted, licking upwards, spit sticking to his balls and making his eyes roll back into his head. “It’ll take you a few more years, I predict.”

“S-Shut up… aaah, yes…”

Oh, he thought about it. Not that he wanted to be a dad right now, but, someday. She had said before their children would follow the species of the mother. A little of pups, maybe? Or one by one? Jungkook had no idea what the specifics were, but he sure as hell thought about how fucking mind-blowingly intense the experience could be. He could only fathom, because she refused to tell him, instead drenching his throbbing cock with her hot mouth. He came instantly, the orgasm clawing through him from his core, tearing an animalistic groan from his ribcage, desperately fighting the urge to pass out, the high splintering through his muscles in igniting sparks.

Maybe embarrassing, but all shame was wiped away at the radiating sensation of her swallowing his thick load. He could feel the volume, feel the way her throat muscles constricted around him, feel the muscles of his crotch strain, and his cock remained hard, aggressively pulsating from their wanton connection.

Her warm, wet tongue hooked around his balls and Jungkook gasped, his hips snapping up violently, back arching, almost screaming as he felt the head of his cock slam into the back of her throat. Her hands gripped his ass, fingernails digging in, lifting him with ease, forcing him to thrust into her mouth in an absurd form of self face-fucking that would not be possible without her strength, which was both extremely arousing and extremely concerning. But horny canceled out fear, so Jungkook soared towards glorious heaven without a care in the world.

His moan swelled throughout the room, saturating it with his lustful vocalization.

A part of him wished he could describe the impending orgasm that was thundering from deep within. It held the same gravity as terror, the same abyssal depth as love, and the undefined quality of time. It ripped through him and put him back together at the same time, leaving him in tears, stronger than before, a step past alive that walked the line of death, and through the haze of oblivion, Jungkook saw her rise with the look of predator to prey, and she sank down on him, his stiff cock still sputtering residual spurts of cum while her hot, slick pussy tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of blinding bliss through him.

He felt her hands clutch his shoulders, the points of pain from her nails bringing him back to reality.

But only just.

She licked her teeth like royalty about to feast on fine dining.

“Mine.”

-

You dipped your fingers into your mouth and pulled them out, glistening with saliva, and smeared them over Jungkook’s lips. You watched with fervent delight as his instincts took over while you rode him, roughly, brutally, his eyes still conscious, his body bucking into each thrust, his mind on the brink as he tried to grasp onto each sensation. His willpower was breathtaking. No, addictive. You leaned down, hungry to watch his face that was unable to hide wave after wave of ransacking pleasure, his shoulders practically vibrating under your palms.

In the end, you were more animal than human.

You breathed out, your heavy exhale washing over him, and Jungkook writhed, fascinating you with the way his strained muscles rippled, whining, slamming his hips into your crotch with a loud wet smack and cumming again, but you did not relent.

There was such a thing as love among Dires, although you should not partake in such as the Alpha’s sole heir. At least, tradition did not allow you to partake.

Taming you, another story.

You tightened around him, defying tradition, losing yourself to a pleasure that could never be matched.

Like humans, Dire wolves also spoke of the ideal of a perfect mate. Less abstract than the concept of a soul, though. More focused on the concept of matching power levels and building a strong bloodline. There was no room for the weak among the pack.

And yet.

While Jungkook by no means matched you in physical prowess, perhaps that meant that the power of humanity was not measured by pure muscle, but by determination that went past personal safety.

You threw your head back, gritting your teeth, a rising hiss bubbling in your chest, the heels of your palms pressing against his chest. His back hit the floor with a thud, starting a vicious cascade of adrenaline from him to you, and you felt the rising pleasure crash and burst, suspended on the hairline of sanity before the spasms beneath gripped you, ricocheting up your ribcage, seeping juices painted between your connected bodies and you let out a howling moan, your nails digging into his flesh.

Jungkook came, trapped in the jaws of your orgasm, adding a squelch of fluids to the rest buried within you.

You reached between your bodies, opening your mouth, collecting spit onto the tip of your tongue.

It dripped down, down.

His mouth opened mid-moan, his dark eyes unfocused, pupils blown out, and you smeared the mix of his cum and yours onto his tongue along with your saliva, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he drank it, intoxicated, gurgling your name in wet bliss. His bleached-blond hair stuck to his forehead, damp from sweat. Or maybe from your drool from earlier. Ah.

You leaned in and kissed him.

His taste was different.

Like electricity.

You tilted your head, kissing him deeper. Again and again, until he reached the edge of consciousness.

“D-Don’t… stop…”

You kissed him even as he passed out, licking his face, staking your claim, painting him with you.

It might be primitive, but Jungkook loved it, so you did not deny him.

After wiping him down the best you could and tucking him into bed, you cleaned the floor. He slept like the dead, oblivious to your silent movement of mopping his floor. You made sure it was relatively dry before putting everything away, giving his form one last look before gazing out his bedroom window.

The moon blazed above in the pitch-black sky.

The adrenaline still rippled through your blood, but it wasn’t from the sex. You could not see the eyes, but you could feel that the window was being watched. The growl below your collarbones simmered. You felt the shallow presences shrink back a little, sensing your intent to kill on your territory.

They may have disappeared now.

However, you did not relax.

You had hired security detail for Jungkook. Against his will, they lived next door. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin from RJ's Private Security Services. The only reason you trusted them was because the CEO was well-regarded among your father’s security guard. Your father, the Dire Alpha, had human security detail outside of Dire territory, and wolves for around the castle. Crime was handled by the nation of the perpetrator. Between Dire and humans, the wolf was almost always ruled the perpetrator.

Which did not benefit the humans, since punishment was usually death.

It didn’t benefit wolves either, since punishment was usually the Alpha slaughtering you in front of your family.

Very pleasant traditions, yes.

Hring human bodyguards was important for Jungkook, because wolves were unlikely to attack humans and because humans were slightly less likely to attack their own kind when in groups. Slightly. Although you trusted Taehyung and Jimin, they were only human. They could not sense the world like you could, plus their bodies required ample amounts of sleep to be fully alert. Therefore, you had begun to stalk Jungkook’s apartment – much to his delight – but you did not inform him that it was because of the malicious intent that seemed to scuttle along the pavement like cockroaches. You did not mind satisfying his lust, of course. Other than your saliva giving him an almost hallucinatory high, it made your pheromones radiate off him, essentially telling anyone in the vicinity to back the fuck off or you would give him a very nasty bite.

You left out a wispy, heated breath, fixated on the moon.

You would protect him, no matter what.

On his bedside table was your necklace. A pendant of a jagged diamond with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center on a thick silver chain. On the chain were ten silver rings. Rings of conquest. You would have to go back tomorrow. There were at least two rituals scheduled soon. You were both prime breeding age and the next Alpha. Every male wanted to be the Alpha’s mate with the intent of producing the next royal kin.

You, however, were not interested in any of them.

Jungkook snored very loudly from the bed.

You slunk away from the window and crawled into bed beside him. He was warm. Once he felt your skin brush against his, his body turned, haphazardly flinging his limbs over you.

You smiled.

Pulled the blanket over his arm and listened to the sound of his slumber.

For Dire wolves, courtship was completed through combat. There were those that did participate in the gentler rituals common through humans, but marriage could not be viewed as solidified without combat between mates. If they deemed each other as worthy through battle, both wolves could call a truce, thus having their union recognized among the pack. Common wolves could perform this ritual at their leisure. The ritual for royalty was, of course, different. Although anyone and everyone wished to become the next Alpha’s mate, initiating an official challenge was intimidating to say the least. Not only was each match overseen by the Alpha himself, losing was both shameful and embarrassing. Nearly ostracizing. Still, word was also getting out that you were fucking a human. Unsurprisingly, most Dire were not thrilled at the idea.

And so, you were soon to be called to fulfill your royal duty of kicking lupine ass that had delusions of being your husband because your mate was currently snoring into your fluffy ear.

You would not lose. At this point, you would rather die than select a different mate.

Wolf men were overrated anyway.

The problem was, how were you supposed to have your marriage recognized by your people? It was a future issue that needed a solution, but one step at a time. First, kick the lupine ass of whoever was stalking Jungkook. Then figure out how to get your people – well, actually, your father – to acknowledge your mate.

Sigh.

That was already impossible, as Father would most likely bite Jungkook the second he showed his face.

Even from this distance, you felt the tingle of his disapproval from within the stone walls of the castle.

-

“Wait are you guys wearing?!”

Kim Taehyung flashed a dazzling boxy smile that further illuminated the flashiness of his pink-and-orange Hawaiian shirt. Maybe that was why he was wearing those ridiculous large sunglasses. “It’s fa-shun. You wouldn’t understand, dear record store employee.”

Jungkook was flabbergasted.

Park Jimin was also sporting a similarly colorful shirt, slate blue chinos, and big sunglasses. Leather loafers, even. He handed Taehyung a tan sports coat that he slipped on, covering his identification badge and harness that held his, er, tranquilizer gun. Jungkook still wasn’t sure what that meant, but the suspicious gun-shaped thing in the holster was bright orange with a blue biohazard sign on the handle. Jimin had one too, although his demeanor was less unhinged. He seemed more trustworthy with it. The shorter man put on a light green shirt jacket over his yellow-orange floral shirt.

Neither of them looked normal.

Despite this, Jungkook had no choice but to endure the stares of everyone as he stood on the train, squeezed between two men chattering over his head. He tried to look nondescript in his large grey bucket hat, dark red long-sleeved henley shirt, baggy black sweatpants, and black sneakers. Tried being the key word, since it was impossible to avoid looking like an emo child chaperoned by two parents perpetually trapped in the seventies.

He would have felt less weird holding the hand of his wolf girlfriend, honestly.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

Jungkook glared at Jimin, who was grinning with his sunglasses ticked down like a sleazy porn star.

“Aw, someone’s cranky,” Taehyung teased, earning him a similar death glare as they walked off the train. “Missing the missus that bad, huh?”

“Please stop talking like that,” Jungkook muttered, slapping down his train card rather harshly. The gate let out a hasty beep and shot open. “I feel like I’m stuck with the two goons of a half-assed gangster movie.”

“Who’s which half of the ass?” Jimin chirped.

Then his supposed bodyguards both shot finger guns at each other and burst into a fit of giggles, which made Jungkook half-consider jumping into an open manhole. On a better day he might have joined in on the fun. However, he was indeed cranky. This morning, she had kissed him goodbye, apologizing for having to cancel their plans and promising to be back in a couple days. He had almost protested, but then he caught her glancing at her hands. All her fingers were laden with heavy silver rings. A snake head with black gems for eyes. The black stone with a bone pressed into it. The wolf with the opal eyes. The ten-pointed star etched into a hammered silver circle. The simple silver band. The large opal gem inlaid in stars. The skull with the snake. The moth with opal gems as wings. The ring scripted with a single word, FEED. A twisted silver band.

“You replace them as you defeat stronger opponents, right?” Jungkook had asked.

She had smiled, pleased that he had remembered. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Do you think you’ll replace any this time?”

He swore a gold streak flared through her irises but he couldn’t be sure.

“Probably two.”

It mildly pissed off Jungkook that male wolves could just rock up and ask for her hand in marriage, but now that he thought about it again, saying that to the Dire Alpha’s face that you wanted to fuck his daughter sounded shit-inducingly petrifying. Upon further inspection, he didn’t envy them that much. Plus, they all got their butts kicked by his hot wolf girlfriend. The latter might be kinda – ahem, anyway, today was Jungkook’s day off.

He looked both ways before crossing the street, quickly followed by animated Jimin and Taehyung.

He couldn’t help but notice the Dire among the humans as he walked.

They stood out everywhere they went. Pointed ears, some clipped. Bushy tails, some shoved into voluminous skirts and baggy pants to make it less obvious. He used to think the ones that lived among humans were all up to no good. That was the public perspective, after all, similar to humans who were heavily tattooed. Such groups were treated with veiled contempt simply for existing. It made Jungkook feel ashamed for assuming that, especially since he now saw how carefully the Dire approached humans, trying to look as meek and unassuming as possible, moving in and out quickly so as to not disturb the peace. He also noticed how some groups of Dires glared at everyone that passed them, jaded by public perception.

Part of him wondered why they did not live in the wooded area of the main colony. Then another part of him came to realization that he probably didn’t want to know the answer to that. After all, his wolf girlfriend had to leave him to participate in courtship combat rituals, so… yeah.

It was a dog-eat-dog world.

There was a loud clang as the glass door opened and hit a male Dire in the face. Jungkook started. A group of teenage boys snickered and pointed, racing away from the business as the thin Dire in a dirty grey long coat shook his head roughly, looking pissed off but still staring at the ground. Nobody around him said anything. The Dire snorted and turned away from the establishment, empty-handed, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook opened his mouth to ask if the stranger was okay.

The Dire glared at him, snarling deep in his chest before breaking into an alley.

A deep sense of regret stung within.

“He’ll be fine.” A hand rested on Jungkook’s shoulder. He turned to see Jimin ruefully smiling. “He nicked a wallet from one of the kids.”

Alert perked up his shoulders. “What? Aren’t you guys gonna do something?”

Taehyung appeared beside him with a frown, ushering him along. “For what? Ten thousand won and a drained train card? Besides, our job is to protect you.”

“Don’t you have a sense of justice?” Jungkook hissed under his breath, not liking their lackadaisical attitude.

Even behind the dark glasses, he saw Jimin’s expression deepen. “Justice? Of course.”

“Then–”

“We can’t go around invoking our personal justice on others.” Those plump lips twisted to a morose grimace. “That’s not our job. Our job is to protect you.”

Indignance flared as Jungkook harshly whispered back, “Then why aren’t you taking it seriously–” And he cut himself off as Jimin and Taehyung looked back at him. Faces tense despite their colorful appearances. Once again, he was reminded of how much they stood out.

“People… People are staring at us…”

Taehyung took a step past him, ticking his sunglasses with a sly smirk.

“The more eyes on you, the more witnesses available to testify if we are attacked,” he said under his breath, monotone, with a sweeping laugh to cover up the gravity of his warning. Jungkook half-turned, feeling Jimin’s arm clap over his shoulders, breathless and wide-eyed as Jimin’s pitched laughter rang with Taehyung’s deeper octave. It took a moment for those words to really sink in, but at that point Jimin was dragging him into the department store they had been heading towards all along, and then all of a sudden they became three longtime friends out shopping, noisily discussing the current frivolous fashion trends. Definitely not one dumbass and two dumbass-looking-but-actually-extremely-competent undercover bodyguards.

It wasn’t until Jungkook was shoved into a dressing room with an armful of random dress shirts that he spotted himself in the mirror, his wide eyes trembling with fear.

“I’m in danger,” he mouthed, feeling panic rise to his throat.

His heartbeat raced. He clutched the nice fabrics and shut his eyes, breathing in. Breathing out. No. Don’t cry wolf, idiot, and Jungkook almost laughed at the thought because it was more literal than most would expect. He missed her very much. He knew she could sense him somehow, so he tried to radiate calm, especially when he knew she was busy with her personal preparations. She had hired Jimin and Taehyung for a reason. It just… It hadn’t hit him until now that, yeah, they had been hired to protect-protect him.

Maybe, deep down, Jungkook had wished that it was only silly paranoia.

Then again, before he had security, five Dires had beat the stuffing outta him just because. So, if word was getting out that he was banging the Alpha heir for free…

Oh.

Okay, he was a little scared.

But only a little. He coughed and straightened, dumping the hangers of shirts onto the ottoman in the corner of the dressing room and whipped off his bucket hat, roughly mussing his flat hair. He scowled, hating this feeling of helplessness. Maybe he would hit up the mixed martial arts gym by his house. Increase his workouts to six days a week. He couldn’t be useless forever. At the very least Jungkook wanted to be able to kick human butt.

He yanked his shirt over his head.

“Hey – Whoa! Freaky-deaky!”

Jungkook almost launched himself into the mirror in a mute scream, pressing his long-sleeved shirt into his chest as he spun around to see Taehyung and Jimin cramming themselves into the dressing room, locking the door behind them. He gawked, flapping his jaw like a fish as the shorter male bent towards him, giving him a shifty up-and-down stare as Taehyung tried not to burst into another fit of deep giggles.

“Your back looks like the imprint of a chain-link fence,” the giggly man snickered, tapping his crossed fingers.

Jimin ticked his sunglasses down and wagged his finger.

Jungkook chucked his shirt into Jimin’s face, who promptly slingshot back into the dressing room door in dramatics. Taehyung grabbed his shoulders and gleefully hissed, “Stop, stop, not so loud,” as if this unbelievable ruckus wasn’t suspicious enough.

“Get out,” Jungkook gritted out to the other two. They waved his warning away and began to pick up the dress shirts, hanging them on the bar while very poorly acting as if they couldn’t see the welts and scratches all over him. Waving their hands this way and that, sticking him into a revolving door of various dress shirts while exchanging not-so-subtle looks.

Assholes.

“I can see you.”

His bodyguards-turned-fashion-critics were splitting up the tried-on shirts into two categories. Both tucked their sunglasses into the dip of their collar to begin serious deliberation. Wordlessly shaking their heads at each other. Contorting their faces in various levels of judgement. It was strangely efficient and also weird as fuck.

“Get some slacks. Dark ones, tapered,” Jimin nudged Taehyung, and the taller male was off, sticking his head out of the dressing room in a left-right criminal-level lookout stance before sauntering out.

At this point Jungkook knew it was pointless to protest. A pair of dark brown orbs popped over his shoulder as he unbuttoned the silky black dress shirt with small opalescent polka dots. He noted Jimin had to teeter on tiptoes to harass him properly.

Heh, shorty.

“You got that dawg in you, eh, Kookie?” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows. “Can I call you that?”

“No,” Jungkook muttered sulkily, slipping out of the dress shirt to put on a mid-weight navy one. He felt a little hand slap his arm once he shouldered it on. The upper seams were too short for his broad shoulders. He took it off without even buttoning it, recognizing there was no point in putting on something ill-fitting.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed about, Kookie,” Jimin barreled on and Jungkook realized now that the shorter male must be from Busan. His intonation and blunt talk reminded him of his hometown. “You and I ain’t so different if we get down to it.”

“Uh huh,” but it was a distracted reply. Taehyung spoke smoothly but there was a rough depth to his elegant, low voice. Daegu? Jungkook wondered how they got here. Money, probably. “Why accept this job?”

“Huh?”

He lifted his head and frowned at Jimin’s peeking eyes over his shoulder through their reflection.

“Why protect me?”

Jimin’s dark brows lowered slightly. Even though half of his face was covered by Jungkook’s shoulder, the crinkled in the corners of his eyes indicated that he was smiling.

“Honestly, I was getting really tired of protecting people who only care about themselves and not the world around them. But I don’t know how to make it better either. So, until then, I’ll have to keep looking for people who have the courage to make our shared world more beautiful.”

Jungkook stared at Jimin through the mirror.

For some reason, he remembered fluffy ears and soft tail curling around him, the smile of a leader-to-be by his side.

He turned, then jerked back.

“You’re too close.”

Jimin wiggled his eyebrows again. Creep. “Hey, no pressure or anything, but does your lady love have some fri–”

Taehyung chose this awkward moment to burst through the dressing room door. He gasped audibly and shut it quickly, waving the pants at Jungkook, “Cover yourself, you animal!” And, because Jimin had whipped his head around, Jungkook could now see down the nape of the shorter man’s neck. He had a series of obvious tattoos that disappeared downward.

The moon phases.

Then it clicked.

Jungkook bopped Jimin on the head.

“Ow!”

“The fuck is that for?” Taehyung scolded, jabbing him in the chest with the hanger of the slacks. “Didn’t your parents teach you that violence is wrong?”

But Jungkook paid him no mind, instead giving Jimin a knowing glare. The shorter man stuck his tongue out with a cheeky smirk before morphing back to a hurt baby chick when Taehyung looked back at him. Asshole.

“Get out before I clobber you both.”

Three really was too many to select one dressy date outfit, but such was Jungkook’s life now.

-

“Father, do you hate the humans?”

The Alpha could smell him. Despite his daughter’s attempt to shower, coitus between highly compatible mates lingered. Sigh. He knew this day would come, and he had dreaded it. His expectations were sadly met. Sigh. He shut his eyes and breathed in, but not too deeply. The urge to chomp on the human boy became stronger than before. He looked down to his daughter, who was still in her human form, wearing the traditional loose robes of the Dire. Silver, to indicate her royal status. It was coincidence that the color matched her natural fur. She was giving him a curious, searching expression.

His scowl must be showing.

“I don’t hate the humans,” he growled.

She remained unconvinced.

The Alpha let out a huff and looked out to the forest. They were on the rooftop on the stone castle, about to spar. The sun was setting, turning the green leaves a cinder-orange glow.

“Human are selfish, cunning, hateful creatures,” he said to the sea of leaves. “Such is the nature of those who perceive themselves as weak. The mouse lives an honest life, for it does not know of its level in the food chain. But humans do. They are not like you and I. The Dire know themselves to be apex predators, and so we act accordingly. That is, until the integration began, poisoning the Dire with their human fears.”

The moon was slowly peeking out, a flirty little sliver in the sky.

“But humans are not weak.”

The Alpha raised his head to the memory of his lovely silver wolf in the sky. She used to say these words to him, back when he was a haughty, arrogant, uneducated young wolf. She was always the wiser one.

“Their bodies might be weak but, unlike the rest of nature who are simply living in their own isolated bubbles, humanity has the ability to comprehend, empathize, and connect all these isolated bubbles. They are creative, innovative, and imaginative. They are the bigger world that the Dire are only a small part of.”

He looked back to his inquisitive silver pup.

It was partly a lie, as the Alpha did, indeed, hate the humans with a fiery loathing.

He would not, however, actively place his emotions onto his own daughter. If she was to lead after him, it should be with her own beliefs and ideals. He was simply there to guide. He still didn’t think he was doing an exemplary job, but he was only one Dire, after all. Sigh. It wasn’t the first time he wished his wife was still here to scold him to do better.

“Are those Mother’s words?” his clever pup asked.

The corner of his jowls raised. “You always know when she speaks through me, somehow.”

She smiled, playful and roguish, and he saw himself in her. Then a flash of guilt clouded her expression. He saw her pause, unsure. It made him feel like a failure. He was a leader before he was a father, unfortunately. His own daughter hesitated to be open with him.

He gazed back to the turning crimson leaves, not wanting his stare to intimidate.

“I know you have been helping humans on nights of the full moon.”

He felt her withdraw slightly. He frowned. But then she pulled herself up, standing straight beside the Alpha.

There was his defiant child.

“So?”

He tried not to smile. “You challenge our right to the hunt?”

“If our people were better hunters, then my impact would be insignificant.”

He continued to stare at the trees despite the pride swelling in his chest. “You wish to end such massacre.”

To his surprise, his daughter hesitated once more.

“The Dire cannot prevent themselves from becoming our true selves on that night. I will not let us be convinced that the core part of who we are is ugly. I want us to be able to hunt the natural way. However, I cannot deny that the full moon night has created mutual resentment between our species. But, perhaps, there is a way for us to contain our hunt to a different prey.”

“Oh?” The Alpha did his best to not sound impressed.

“Haven’t we become too lazy when it comes to the wildlife, Father?”

She had noticed it too. Raw meat had become too easy to obtain.

“According to the humans, the deer have become an invasive species.”

“Is that so?” He already knew. Calling out his own people as idle dogs did not exactly earn respect, although he was getting closer to doing so out of personal frustration.

“Yet I don’t think I can suggest such things until we better improve the bond between us.”

They stood in silence, father and daughter.

“I’m ready to kick your ass now.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to do so, Daughter,” the Alpha barked, his laughter cracking through the twilight. Something only she heard nowadays. “You’ve become soft hanging out with those humans.”

She proved him wrong.

-

He was drooling.

It was a little unsettling. It shouldn’t be, but it was for some reason. Maybe because he was human.

“Jungkook, uh…?”

He started and made a hasty slurping sound. Lovely. You turned a little, swishing your tail back and forth to get a feel for mobility. Checked yourself in the mirror again, satisfied with the tailor’s adjustments to the cobalt blue velvet dress. There was an additional zipper by the hole at the lower back of the dress that allowed your tail to poke through. The dress was a stark difference from the usual baggy clothes you wore. Although the fabric was stretchy, it hugged close in your body with a soft cowl neck and gathered side seams. The wolf in you disliked this encasement, but there were slits along the sides that helped, as well as your mate’s hungry expression. It was quite amusing.

And flattering.

“Wow, you look so… so fucking hot.”

“The open back is making me feel rather cool, actually,” you remarked. The thin straps crossed in the back to hold the front against your chest. Some of your scars and half-healed gashes were visible. You didn’t mind though. Jungkook seemed to like it, creeping closer and closer to you with every second. You pretended not to notice. “I brought some silver shoes to wear with it. Do you think this will be acceptable for the establishment you selected?”

He was not listening. Jungkook was now almost breathing down your back, and then you felt his fingertips trace your recent wounds with gentleness and concern. And a hint of desperation.

No, a lot of desperate horniness.

You stared at him blankly through his own full-length mirror in his bedroom.

“Does it hurt?”

His big eyes lifted to pout at your reflection.

“It does not.”

You had two new rings now. The FEED ring had been replaced with one that held a black onyx heart-shaped gem held down with locked chains. The snake head ring was also gone, swapped for a silver band composed of fused triangles. He was peeking down at them.

“The more intricate ones are from newer families,” you explained. “The older families have simpler designs, as that was the norm at the time.”

“Families?”

“Just as you humans have a coat of arms for your families, we have ring styles. There is a special Dire family of silversmiths that create them. The royal family has a pendant.” You laid your fingertips over the pendant hanging from your neck, a jagged diamond shaped like the full moon with a platinum plum flower pressed into it. “Unlike the families, who are able to swap rings and be indited to new families, the royal family are locked to their fate.”

His brows knitted together. “Sounds complicated…”

You smiled, patting his cheek. “Let me handle such things. You can stand there and be pretty.”

But a shadow crossed over his features. You paused, not expecting that. Jungkook shifted to hold your elbows, pulling you towards him with a rueful expression. He shook his head.

“I want to do it.”

You blinked in confusion. “Are you using euphemisms for sex now?”

He looked annoyed. “The ritual.”

Huh?

Wait.

He was crazy.

“The courtship combat?”

His nodded, making his blond ponytail bounce.

You almost laughed. Almost, stopping as soon as you saw the serious look on his face. “Ah… That’s not possible, my sun.”

Pink dusted his cheeks. “S… Sun?”

You reached up and twirled his bleached bangs. “Mhm. As I rule the moon, you are the sun that allows me to shine.”

He was two seconds away from becoming a blubbering mess. You laughed again as he hugged you fiercely, then received whiplash from him jerking back, gripping your shoulders tightly. His big brown orbs with glistening with brightness. “I want to do the ritual. It is a tradition of your people. I want to respect it. I want to win you.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh… well, not win you, but… you know…?”

Still, you considered it for a moment. You could tell him that he had already won, but you also knew that wasn’t what he meant. “The ritual reflects the savagery of the Dire. It is not for the weak.” You raised your head. Jungkook straightened, determinedly setting his jaw. He was far from the frightened young human shivering in the alley back then. The corner of your lips upturned. “You want to fight me that bad, huh?”

He waved his hands, dark eyebrows falling in worry. “No, no, not like that. I just think… I mean, your dad might – uh…” He rubbed his chest nervously.

Oh.

You looked out the window, to the growing moon. “Hm, I suppose there is some way to arrange a degree of fairness. But you will need to become stronger. There’s no way you can win now.” Father will be pleased, perhaps. It was hard to tell with that wolf.

“R-Really?” Then the latter half of your words sank in. “Hey…”

You turned to face him with a wolfish grin.

“Would you like me to prove it to you now?”

-

Well, Jungkook didn’t win the tussle, but he could confidently say he had won at life.

He had one hand pinned behind his back and the other on the floor above his head, her weight on top his thighs, and her tongue sliding down the nape of his neck. His boner was getting violently uncomfortable against the hardwood. He was too absorbed in pheromone heaven to care. The more competitive side of him argued that this was cheating and the horny side of him told the former to shut the fuck up and enjoy the saliva dripping down his shoulders, his skin burning with heightened sensation.

She had the foresight to remove her dress before pinning him down.

Jungkook could never compete with such wisdom, but he was fine with that.

She let go of his hands. He could do nothing. She gripped his lower ribs and hoisted his torso off the ground, too easily, and ran her tongue down his spine, removing her knees from the backs of his thighs as well. His hot skin prickled at the sensation of her teeth nicking him. Somehow he was now on his knees. Her arm snaked around his front and gripped his inner thigh, sharp fingernails digging into delicate flesh. His entire body shuddered, lungs included, her spit in rivers across his shaking backside.

Her tail flicked against his calf, soft fur rubbing against him.

“O-Oh, fuck…!”

Pre-cum was already leaking down his shaft. Hypnotized. His own palm pressed against the swollen, slick head of his cock. Like a spark to a flame, his nerves blazed with delight, prompting him to wrap his hand around the shaft. Her other hand clawed up his chest. And then he felt her teeth sink into his side. Jungkook looked down, vision unfocused.

Gasped.

Eyes streaked with gold gleamed and she bit down, into him, not hard enough to break skin but definitely hard enough to drive him insane.

His head snapped back, vicious lust tearing through his throat in a strangled moan, jacking himself off hard, fast, punishing, driven by the scratches down his chest and inside his inner right thigh, by the teeth locked into his left side, and then pain blossomed into unyielding waves of torrential pleasure. Coiling into his blood. Seizing his heart. So intense he was on the edge of alive and dead. A moan ripped at his throat, nearly a howl, and Jungkook could smell blood, nearly sending himself into a frenzy.

His orgasm shot all over the floor.

His lower muscles clenched and he thrust into his hand, burning all over, sensitivity exploding through his frame, and now he saw it, streaks of milky white splattered onto the hardwood, oh, shit, right before his eyes rolled back into his head to flashing blackness, feeling hot tongue washing over the bruise throbbing at his side.

“Ah, I’m sorry…”

“I d-don’t care,” he immediately choked out, swaying, his head lolling back into place, infernal ecstasy threatening to swallow him whole. His eyes could barely register that he was bleeding from the small pinpricks of her teeth marks. He felt unnaturally good, truthfully. Maybe because her saliva lingered on the wound. A fresh surge of arousal rippled down to his groin.

Her name slipped from his gasping lips.

A low, animalistic huff.

For a moment, Jungkook could not quite understand the image in front of him. One second, he was sinking on his knees, panting, staring at the cum-drenched floor of his bedroom. The next second, the powerful, lithe, crouching form of his wolf girlfriend was before him, on hands and knees. Her bushy silver tail swishing back and forth, her head low to the ground, ears standing straight up, and her tongue flat against the hardwood.

She was licking his cum!

Her tail was wagging!

“O-Ooooh…”

Those gold-flecked eyes fixated on him, watching him with a low, throaty snarl.

“Get behind me.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice.

His body knew what to do, springing into action, probably ungracefully, but he didn’t care, launching off his knees, positioning behind her round, raised ass. His hands gripped the soft curves, the pads of his thumbs slippery against her heated opening, and her snarl morphed into a blissful hiss, the tendons on the back of her hands visible, and he sank in, instantly drowning into suffocating, insatiable fervor.

Violent, loud, wet smacks of hips to hips.

She licked his taste off the floor. Her tail thumped against his thundering heart. His body snapped forward with unrelenting force, breathless, alive, intense, illuminated by the moon, his throbbing cock swelling against her pulsing muscle, snaking shivers seizing his insides.

Synchronized, laborious exhales.

Her head tipping back, the tip of her tail curling around his neck, her ass pushing back against his crotch.

“Ah, Jungkook, yes…”

Then he felt it.

A sublime pull coaxing him from within, otherworldly, not just fitting together on the physical but in a divine perfection, and his grip tightened, trying to hold on, thrusting deeper, harder, there.

He orgasmed in this carnal, dream-like state, moaning to the ceiling.

He wanted to ask what that was, if she had felt it, but his hips continued despite the heightened sensitivity, and he couldn’t stop, kept going, his lungs burning, leaning forward, oh, fuck, this angle was even better, her orgasm spasming around him, his eyelids fluttering from the racing bursts of pleasure, still so hard that it was almost painful, cumming again, the saturated scent of their sex overpowering, slickness dripping down their tense thighs, once again building to another wet, tight, soaring climax.

Jungkook continued until his legs literally gave out.

He slid to the floor, gasping, marveling at the way her pussy glistened, the quivering lips puffy and engorged dark pink, leaking heated slickness.

He inhaled.

Ducked forward.

Pressed his tongue into her and groaned, massaging his sore cock as he ate her out, tasting himself, tasting her, tasting them. Intoxicating, sweet, slipping into wet velvet, drunk on their union.

-

“What… W-What was that…?”

You listened to him describe it to you. And nodded.

“I see.”

“What?”

You rubbed your chin and asked him a question. “Do you ever wonder why the humans that become Dire sex slaves rarely stop such relations?”

His face contorted into embarrassment and confusion. “U-Uh, well, n-no, I’m not–”

“I’m kidding. That has nothing to do with anything,” you hummed, patting his chest with adoration. The look on his face though. “Humans have the concept of soulmates, don’t they?”

His pout turned into wide-eyed interest. “Uh, yeah…”

“Well, that doesn’t happen the nature.”

Jungkook glared at you.

You grinned. And then sighed, resting your chin on his pecs. “Do you wonder why the Alpha bloodline is so coveted?”

“Because you’re in charge?”

You hummed, your tail creating the tent with his blankets. “Well, of course. But we are not simply in charge by blood alone.” You placed your hands on his chest. Your rings and necklace were on his nightstand. “The Alpha position can be challenged by any wolf in the pack. However, we are difficult to defeat due to our blessing from the moon. This includes our amplified strength, heightened senses, increased rate of regeneration and healing… and the nature of our copulation.”

Those big eyes were blinking bewilderedly at you, not yet understanding.

A slow smirk touched your lips.

“The more you have sex with me, the stronger our connection becomes. You will feel the traces of divinity stirring within you to draw you towards orgasm.”

He sprang upward, startled.

“You mean it can feel even better?”

You laughed, sitting with your hands between your legs. “Yes, the sex will feel better and better as time goes on. The Alpha needs to bear children after all. So, to ensure this despite our low ovulation rate of twice a year, the moon encourages us to enjoy the mating process. Alphas in heat are extremely overbearing.”

Jungkook looked traumatized. “Y… You…?”

You licked your teeth in ravenous delight.

“I’m gonna die,” he declared, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I thought you would be happy to know that.”

He looked more stricken than pleased. “H-How can I keep up?! I’ve barely started not going full crazy every time you spit on me!”

You wiggled your tongue at him.

“S-Stop!”

His body involuntarily flinched at the sight of your tongue. You stayed between his open legs.

“I wouldn’t worry. I’m not sure about the specifics with humans, but I do know our marriage will mean that you too will receive the full blessing of the moon. Until then, the compulsion will strengthen you to your full potential each time we fuck. The moon wouldn’t want you to give up midway, you know.”

“H… How do you know that?”

You frowned. “Hm. I don’t.”

Jungkook almost fell off the bed.

“But I do know that is what my father told me. Alphas used to have a lot of children outside of their marriage, because the sex is quite literally addicting. It is similar to partaking hard drugs. Alphas only marry once, to the suitor most powerful that makes them yield, thus establishing their offspring as the true heirs blessed by the moon. The moon’s blessing ensures fertility between that connection. It does not, however, stop the Alpha from getting around.”

He hesitated and then blurted, “Your dad gets around?!”

You froze.

Then your ears lowered.

“No. I have never smelled another scent mingling with my father’s other than my mother,” you sighed sadly.

-

He could tell he struck a forbidden chord.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled. Weakly. Then shook her head. “No. Don’t be.” She lifted her head, facing out the window. No. To the moon hanging above them, softly illuminating the world below. Her hand raised.

She tapped above her heart, twice, with her fingernail.

Turned to him. They shared silent expression of understanding. She took his right hand, and directed it to his heart. Nodded when he held his index finger out.

“Tap your heart twice and look to the moon,” she instructed softly.

He did so, feeling a faint, strained pull from within.

“What does it mean?”

She smiled again, and Jungkook could see the sadness. The yearning. A dream broken, a memory never forgotten, a love indescribable that transcended time and space and worlds.

“It is a Dire practice. How we to pay respects to the dead.” Her eyes shone. “She would have loved to meet you, my sun.”

She fell into his arms and he caught her, holding her for a long, long time.

-

You had never been in such a place before.

“Reservation for two? Right this way.”

It was a grand place. Different from the castle. A restaurant. The chandeliers above were massive, but each held small, dimly lit bulbs that resembled stars in a dark ceiling. Tables with starched white clothes and high-backed chairs. The clientele was dressed like you and Jungkook, in elegant dresses and pressed slacks paired with button down shirts. They stared at you and him above their wineglasses, trying and failing to be subtle. You held your head high, one of your hands on his elbow, sweeping past them in cobalt velvet and silver heels, your tail brushed out behind you, silken ears raised on alert.

You noticed the table beside yours had two sharply dressed men. The taller man wore a dark green suit, and the other in a navy suit. They sat across from each other, but both turned to glance at towards you as you approached.

You almost smiled, but tried your very best not to.

Park Jimin winked. You felt Jungkook stiffen next to you as Kim Taehyung raised his wine glass to you.

“Those punks…”

Still, he looked nervous in his silk black dress shirt. He hadn’t buttoned it all the way. The peek of his collarbones added a tasteful touch. His dark slacks were well-tailored, perfectly laying over the leather of his black dress shoes. Even the gold buckle of his belt matched the thin gold chain around his neck. As he pulled out your chair, you noticed his cuff links glimmer blue.

Sapphires to match your dress.

You swept your skirt by your thighs and sat down carefully, your tail brushing by his hand.

Smiled as you heard him suppress a squeak.

He sat down quickly as the waiter patiently introduced himself and set down the menus, bowing low in exit.

You curiously glanced about, noticing a few well-dressed Dire among the tables. In fact, you recognized some of them. High-ranking officials that worked in the human government. Your father had appointed them. They all had their full pointed ears, their soft tails groomed, and a couple had precious metal chains and dangling gems woven into their fur.

“I’ve never been somewhere like this.”

“Really?” Jungkook was gawking at his menu as if he had never seen paper before.

“This is my first time. I’m glad it is with you.”

It turned out the menu had an entire section dedicated to cuts of raw meat. There were no prices on the menu. Frightening.

“Do you want me to pay?” you asked, tilting your head.

Your mate seemed on the verge of passing out. “Ah… Actually, when I reserved a table, they asked for my credit card. So they can charge it when we leave, I guess…” Jungkook frowned slightly, his ears turning red as he glared at you. “I’m treating you. Although,” he muttered under his breath, I can’t do this all the time, clutching his menu so tightly his knuckles were white.

You assured him. “I’m really looking forward to it. You look very handsome, by the way.”

His face brightened. He straightened up, tucking a few strands of his blond bangs behind his ear. Half of it was tied back, leaving the shorter layers to soften his features. His shoulders relaxed a bit.

“I thought you went to these kinds of places all the time.”

You shook your head. “No. Father hates these sorts of places. Excessive pomp and circumstance.” You imitated his deep, gruff voice with a laugh. “We have a personal butcher bring cuts of meat about half the time. The other half, we hunt.”

-

The Alpha sneezed.

It was a loud, hostile sound that echoed throughout the stone castle.

He rubbed the end of his snout with the pad of his paw. Hmph. Someone must have been mocking him.

He growled and continued down the stairs, heading to the dining room for peaceful dinner.

-

“H-Hunt?”

“Ah… Wildlife.”

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the waiter was back. He asked if they were ready to order. Instead of looking towards him, the waiter poised towards his girlfriend first. Jungkook was a little surprised at how the waiter seemed to not react to the silvery black-tipped fur. Maybe he shouldn’t though. He had chosen this restaurant because it had a raw meat menu, after all.

She made eye contact, and Jungkook smiled, gesturing her to go first.

Their waiter was a gentle-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, sparkling dark eyes, and slightly rounded cheeks. He listened carefully to her order with his hands tucked into one another, a napkin draped over his forearm.

“Excellent selection,” he praised, separating his hands. “I would like to invite you to try our house red wine, specialty crafted and bottled specifically for our dear customers to prefer the raw selection. Its deep, rich, fruity flavor will match perfectly.”

He nudged her foot under the table, trying to convince her to ball out. She did not look at him but tapped the tip of her high heel against the side of his shoe.

“That sounds lovely.”

“Wonderful.” The waiter bowed and faced him. “And what would you like this fine evening?”

“Ah, well…”

He somehow managed to mumble his way through the peppered wagyu beef option. Medium rare. The waiter was unperturbed by his obvious anxiousness. He asked if them both if they would like to share the bottle of wine, then, since the pairing would be excellent with both their choices.

“Oh, we can do that?”

For his part, the waiter did not react to Jungkook’s sputter.

His wolf girlfriend shot him an alarmed look before quickly composing herself and saying, “We would love to.”

The waiter bowed again, and repeated their orders to confirm. He took their menus and bowed out, swiftly disappearing to the bustle of the kitchen.

“He was very professional.”

“I… I made a fool of myself,” he groaned, wanting to hide under his hands. Instead, he clasped his cloth napkin for life support. “It’s so obvious I’m low class. I’m sorry.”

Her chuckle was warm. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t rude.” She reached over and pet his knuckles with her fingertips, her ears perked. “Remember, this is my first experience too.”

He could feel eyes on them. “Do you think… anybody here recognizes you?”

Without breaking eye contact, she said, “I think I’ve been identified, yes.” There was no warning in her voice. “But Taehyung and Jimin are here. And I am not embarrassed to be seen with you. They will need to get used to it.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but peek at their surroundings. “Would you call this a soft launch?”

Confusion brushed over her features. “Launch of what?”

He grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”

She scowled cutely. “No, tell me. Explain this terminology to me.”

He sometimes forgot she didn’t know these things. He explained, and the topics moved on to other phrases and sayings she had questions on. He remembered once again that she didn’t own a phone; it was hard to recall because she knew so much information about music, science, and even philosophy. She explained how she received the schooling that all Dires did, but also had additional classes with various occupations such as silversmithing, tailoring, butchering, and shadowing the Alpha when he interacted with the human government.

“How does it work? Are you supposed to step into the role as soon as possible?”

She shook her head. “No. When my father chooses to retire, I will defeat him in combat to assume the title of Alpha. I could challenge him before that, but,” she mused, smiling. “Over his dead body, as he would say.”

“Does everything end in fighting?”

“A lot of things do.” She caught his troubled expression. “I think you are mistaken by the nature of combat. For humans, fighting is generally negative, as it often devolves from conflict and hurt. But, for the Dire, combat is essential to life. How we defend our ideals, how we connect with our souls, how we become one with the earth and each other.” The waiter came by with two polished wine glasses, soon followed by a bucket of ice that sat on the edge of the table. “We do not fight to cause pain. Of course, we bruise. We bleed. Bones break occasionally, but not often. With each strike, we communicate. We understand. We bond.”

Their plates of food followed. His steak and roasted vegetables, plated with a crisscross pattern of delicate, buttery sauce, and her select raw meat sliced to thinly marbled red perfection. With a careful tilt of the wine bottle, the waiter filled her glass first, wiping the edge of the opening with his folded cloth napkin in one smooth motion. Jungkook noticed the label of the bottle was a wax seal of a family crest with a handwritten brush script in looping characters. He could barely read what it said, but it was clearly very expensive dark red wine.

His mate raised her head to thank the waiter as Jungkook prayed for his bank account not to end in the negatives after tonight. But, really, did it matter? He was surprised to realize that he didn’t mind too much, especially after seeing the sparkling expression in those gold-flecked eyes as she curiously viewed her plate. The waiter poured him a glass too before placing the bottle on ice, bowing as he implored them to enjoy their meal.

That was the best steak that he had ever consumed to date.

Jungkook did not know, at the time, that it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

He did not know, at the time, that he would never, ever visit this establishment again. In fact, both of them would come to unconsciously avoid this type of place, at least for a long time. Yet, in the moment, he felt a rising, pure joy in seeing her spear her meat and dine with him so freely. So lovely. So normal, just like any other couple on a fancy date enjoying each other’s company. He asked if she was enjoying her meal. She nodded, and took a sip of her wine before licking her lips, her brows knitting together before relaxing.

“I think you’re supposed to swirl it a little and sniff it,” Jungkook whispered, holding his own glass as if it was a bomb. “To let out the aromatics or something.” He did not know if he was right or not.

“I can smell it very clearly,” she whispered back, but rocked her wrist regardless. Even she seemed unsure. “Dires do drink alcohol, but I’m told it has a stronger effect on humans than us. Our muscle density and blood chemistry are different.”

“Oh.” He called the Dires slamming shot after shot in the bars of Hongdae. “That’s why they drink so much…” He took a sip and tired not to grimace. It was smooth but quite intense. Then again, it was made to pair with raw meat, so it must be crafted to suit the Dire tastebuds.

“It’s mild. I like it.”

“Y… Yeah…”

She saw right through him. “You don’t like it?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t think I expected the flavor to be so concentrated.” He took another, smaller sip this time.

“Are you pleased with your selections?”

Both of them started and tried their best not to look as startled as their initial reaction. Their waiter had mysteriously appeared right next to their table, smiling, a little mischievously perhaps. His salt-and-pepper hair gleamed under the starry chandeliers above.

“U-Uh, yeah. Yes.” Jungkook cleared his throat. “It’s delicious.”

“Agreed.” She tipped the wine glass towards the waiter. “The red is wonderful. Thank you for suggesting it.”

“My pleasure.”

The waiter bowed deeply, forearm over his vest to smooth it over his apron as he stood up.

“Please, savor your time with us.”

It was not until later that Jungkook pondered on the phrasing of those parting words.

They ate. They drank. They fell deeper and deeper in love, staring into each other’s eyes.

She still had a few slices of meat left on her plate when he began to notice the gold streaks bleeding into her irises.

-

You were so absorbed in your conversation with Jungkook that you failed to notice the distant, unfamiliar sensation piercing your heart until it suddenly became white-hot pain.

Your palm hit the table with a resounding blow.

"Jungkook."

His name shot out of your mouth like a bullet. The pain intensified, forcing you to double over. His eyes went wide at your terrified whisper. Your other hand covered one of your eyes as the stabbing agony scalded through your veins at warp speed. Fuck, it hurt. And… power. You gasped, knocking over your glass, the white tablecloth hemorrhaging red, and suddenly you knew what it was – every single fiber of your being seized against your will, overtaken by devastating, inhuman, feral rage.

Your visible eye shot to the waiter.

The wine.

He smiled.

It was vindicative and cold. 

You poisoned me!

The wolf inside you tore at your insides, ravaged by wrath, breaking every shackle of internal control with alarming ease. You had never felt broken from your inner soul before, but it was happening, it was happening right now, and you cried out. Helpless. The sound of grinding bone. Fur already shooting through your fingers. Jimin and Taehyung at the other table springing to their feet. The growl in your throat unmistakable now and the other patrons gasped in terror. But not Jungkook. 

Your sun looked scared for you. 

Unlike him, you were dreadfully, horribly afraid.

"Jungkook... don't look for me," you pleaded.

You threw yourself out of your seat as silver black-tipped fur bristled all up your arms. Your back. Your legs. The sound of velvet tearing. The despairing feeling of losing your mind to an unstoppable force. Snapping your teeth, half-wolf, half-woman, blinding pain shooting throughout your body at the forced transformation and you tried to fight it. Tried so hard that you tasted blood as a disconcerting screech was ripped from your lungs. Bones cracking. Startling everyone around you as you crawled on all fours, hearing Jungkook calling after you, almost muffled due to your ears flattening against your head, your lips peeling back, sharpened teeth bared. Your shoulder blades grinded against each other, too big for your human form. Wicked black claws slashed the carpet, creating large gashes and deep channels into the wood underneath. 

You let out a bloodcurdling howl of pain.

The restaurant erupted into screams.

Jungkook shouting your name. 

You bellowed at the top of your lungs. 

"DO NOT FOLLOW!"

You must run. 

You ran. 

-

"Always an animal."

Jungkook spun around and punched the waiter in the face, right before Jimin and Taehyung tackled him to the ground. 

"Catch the bottle!" Jimin yelled as the man tried to swing an arm at the ice bucket. 

He caught it mid-air, not knowing where to look, after you or at this sicko with a black eye who definitely did something to you. There was still some wine in there. Taehyung was on his phone, speaking rapidly, and Jimin unforgivingly slammed his knee into the lower back of the waiter, silencing his horrible laughter. The restaurant was an uncontrolled chaos of wailing patrons.

Another violent, heinous howl silenced them all. 

You. 

Jungkook could recognize your broken voice fading into the distance. 

Do not follow. 

"Do not follow," Jimin wheezed. "Please, Jungkook, I know you want to, but do not follow."

He set his jaw and fell to one knee, landing right on the waiter's writhing hand. The man squealed in pain as the sirens sounded outside. 

"Only humans use underhanded tactics," he spat, his voice so low that it seemed to have a cutting edge. The man in Jimin's grip froze, his eyes wide, finally realizing he had pissed off the wrong person.

Jungkook snapped his teeth. 

"Animals fight head on."

-

The Alpha could smell it. 

Rage.  

Fear. 

His daughter. 

He bolted from his seat, forgetting his dinner. The servants started, but he could smell it, it, the horrible scent from memory. It was coming. Coming right for him. 

He howled. 

Loud, resolute, commanding. The servants immediately ran, dashing away, howling with him. The growing sound carried from the echoing stone castle to the homes into the woods, penetrating into the darkness, rising to the sky. The message was loud and clear. Run. Lock the doors. Barricade them. Stay inside. You will die.

The Berserker approaches.

There was the sound of splintering wood and a heavy thud. On all fours, the Alpha shot through the halls, his silver robes tearing apart as he ran. In his lifetime, this had happened only once before. Only once. The heavy pendants of his chain necklace slammed against his broad chest. The large black wolf bounded into the throne room, snarling, seeing his eyes burning gold in the glass of the window.

A silver blur crashed through the glass. 

Teeth, claws, blood, launching right at him. His beautiful daughter nearly the same size as him, a silver wolf with black-tipped fur, but she was there no more. Even the pupils of her eyes had been swallowed by gold fury. Full beast, no human to control the reigns, breaking his heart.

She looked exactly like her mother on her final day. 

He did not hesitate, throwing himself to the side so she missed. She caught herself on all fours, jaws snapping, viciously growling with black lips peeled back. No remorse. Only attack. She flung again and he twisted, but she was faster, slashing through his fur and drawing blood, cutting almost to the bone. 

The Alpha screamed, but not in physical pain. 

She wretched her claws out, swiping at him. 

No. 

No. 

Not his daughter too.

He dodged, throwing a chair into her path. She smashed it into splinters, roaring, all her fur bristling, awful flat glowing gold coins for eyes. 

Then for a split second. 

The Alpha had excellent eyesight. He swore he saw the slightest sliver of pleading. He narrowed his gaze, baring his teeth too as she began to stalk around him, her tail straight up, her pointed ears rigid. Pure aggression once more. The two gigantic wolves circled each other, their claws clicking against stone.

"I swear on my life I will save you, my daughter," the Alpha declared. "You must fight it."

She growled and slammed into him. 

-

part v

--

masterpost

[4drianaaaa]

incomplete

smut 18+, fem reader

🧸 your head pounded with the bad memories with your ex Hamzah...You couldn't stop thinking about him in ways you wished you were just able to slap the shit out of him. Obviously this was a way for you to just think of all the cons about your relationship with him just to forget about him completely.

Until you were sitting in your empty living room on a Friday night contemplating on calling your ex again to 'settle things out'. You thought as it for the better, you both see each other often more than other 'ex's' normally due to both of you being in the same working field and there was obviously very bias fans about the whole breakup and a lot of unnecessary back lash. You finally caved and called him hoping he'd be mature about your smart idea.

"hello?" the other side of the phone was awkwardly silent until you heard your name, "y/n?" his voice in a confused tone.

"Do you think you can come over? I just wanna talk about us...y'know?" you awkwardly giggled as you waited for a response back "Miss me already huh? It's been months I've hoped you changed." he teased as you rolled your eyes "Sure, be there in 20" he added as your tongue poked the inside of your cheek "aww you remember! bye bye!" you hung up as you mentally prepared your self.

You heard a loud knock at your door as you threw a hoodie on and opened the door, you stepped aside and let him get passed as you closed the door behind you "So, why am I here again?" he raised his eyebrow as he sat on the ouch of your living room "cuz' I wanna talk, I just really wanna settle things In a good way" you twirled your fingers around your hair as he nodded "Okay perfect I'll be waiting for your apology" he smirked "What!? I am one-hundred-fucking percent I deserve an apology!" you scoffed "yeah you lashing out on me for something I didn't even do deserves a apology?" he questioned as you scoffed "fine, I'm sorry" you crossed your arms

"that's all? C'mon couldn't you have at least said my name?" he laughed "Hamzah stop before I...." you thought of ways to ruin his life "before I post very embarrassing pictures about you" you furrowed your eyebrows "wow you still have pictures of me?" he smirked as you couldn't resist looking at his sly smirk he always does made you smile as well "what're you smiling at?" he licked his lips as his eyes traveled rapidly up and down your body "nothing!" you hid your face "okay, I'm so so SO sorry Hamzah please forgive me!" you said sarcastically as he laughed "see how easy that was?" he grabbed your waist as he pulled you into a sincere hug, your heart dropped as you fully felt the temperature of his body with yours. Because of not seeing him in such a long time it made you forget how good he made you feel, In various ways.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as his breath was felt onto your ear, a chill ran down to your waist where his hand was placed. "I'm sorry too y/n" he giggled as your face was flushed red, your tug around his neck lightened as you noticed how his eyes sparkled in the light as his hands stayed placed on to your waist. The "what are we?" questioned circled around your head as he put a part of hair behind your ear, your faces got closer to each other as you were both so into the moment

His lips connected to yours like a desperate magnet as your hands were now placed on the sides of his face, his hands firmly gripping on the sides of your waist as his kiss sent you in a state of euphoria. You've realized in that moment how you've never really met someone as unique as Hamzah. No one that made you feel like Hamzah makes you feel.

Your lips parted as it took you back into reality, "M'sorry, I should have asked" he murmured lowly as his hands dug into his pockets "No. It's fine" you placed his hands on top of his as he wasted no time kissing you again but this time more passionate. He felt his dick getting hard as he thought of the things you would do in your bedroom. His sloppy kissed made you groan as he smirked "Please can we go into your room y/n" he practically begged as you nodded and lead him to your cool bedroom, He was quick to swoop off his hoodie and kicking off his shoes as you did too

"god you haven't changed huh" he smirked as you were now on his lap, your panties thrown somewhere in the room as you coated his neck in hickes as his hands gripped your ass, his hands roamed up into your shirt as you shivered under his touch. You slowly began dry humping on top of his hard tent as it did miracles on your bare clit. His hands slipped off your shirt leaving you in your lacy bra, his other hand began to message your clit as you melted under his touch as you whimpered, He began unbuckling his pants as you forgot how huge he was "Can we go slow please~" you whined as you helped him take off his boxers as his throbbing cock sprung up to his belly button you looked at him as you pumped his length as his hips bucked by your touch. You slowly got on top of his as you held his hands slowly taking all of him making you moan "fuck- It's so f'good" you moaned as you felt your self already coming in seconds.

"Tell me when you can't anymore baby" he panted as you nodded, you began to ride him as his eyebrows sewed together "Jesus fucking Christ your so tight" he whimpered as he picked you up and laid you down as he began slowly thrusting into you "Hamzah!" you grabbed his arm as he slowly went deep inside you and back out "yes! fuck!" you yelled as he leaned down to your ear;

"does anyone make you feel like this baby? mh?" he groaned as skin slapped rapidly as he circled his thumb around your clit as you saw stars. His thrusts began to get quicker "c'mon spit it out y/n" he panted as you shook your head as he smirked as he pounded in and out of you circling your clit even faster "Hamzah! Fuck Fuck Fuck!" you scratched his back as you grabbed on to his curls as he groaned "Hamzah I'm so fucking close!" you moaned "Fuckk me too" he whined as his thrust slammed into you reaching your g-spot "Oh Shit!" you yelled as you felt your self come all over his cock "M'yes" he groaned as your legs shook under him as your lips fell onto each other as he planted his warm seed into you as you moaned into his mouth as he pumped his access come on your spilling cunt as you panted under him

"fuck y/n your so good baby" he whimpered as you giggled as he kissed and twirled his tounge around your hard sensitive nipples "I missed you so much y/n" he wrapped his arms around your waist as you played with his curls and wiping the sweat off his forehead "I missed you too" you smiled as you both knew you would be back together by the next day.

[inklessletter]

Autumn of 86. Robin is working at the most boring record store of all Hawkins to save up for escaping that hellhole where she lives in, where the weirdest shit happens all the time (kids coming back to life, classmates killed by chemical leaks, another gas leak that makes the mall blow up, a murderer from Pennhurst breaking free and going in a teenager killing spree, rumours of satanic cults...). Thank god she is working there with his best friend Eddie "love at first sight is an illusion" Munson, who makes her days less painful, and who, right now, is flirting with this all beaten up guy she has never seen before.

She wants to interrupt them, but the way they are talking it is so unlike Eddie. Staring, mildly blushing, soft voices and the strangest interaction going on there when he is purchasing the first cassette he grabs and he is not even paying attention to what he is buying because this new guy can't take his eyes off of Eddie. It even takes him a while to reply to Eddie when he asks him if he wants anything else.

Robin could swear that guy wanted to say something different from his actual answer. "No. No, yeah, that's–that's all. Thanks."

And Eddie half smiles, looks down. "Yeah. Great, here is your change, man. Enjoy your Christmas Carol tape."

"What? Oh, yeah. I will. I guess," and the guy smiles, and it looks painful because his lip is split. He bites his bottom lip and looks away. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

And they—they just stare.

It takes him a few seconds before he purses his lips, nods, and leaves the establishment. And what has Robin standing there, and not bashing at Eddie the second that guy closes the door after him is the fact that she could swear that this guy was... was about to cry.

And Robin is a lot of things, but above all she is curious.

And smart.

And she is stubborn enough to find her answers.

She indeed teases Eddie about him gaping at the guy like a mad man. And she expects pushback, she really does. Eddie always gives her some resistance of her teasing but when Eddie says "I don't know, Robs, I feel like I have seen him before," she believes him.

So Robin does what she does best and finds the guy.

She follows him for a while, and thinks she is doing a great job at the grocery store, following him from the end of the aisle, but she loses him for a second and runs to find him again. She runs into him him as soon as she turns the aisle, face to face.

"Sorry, hi," he says.

"Hi," Robin parrots.

And they stare at each other.

Robin is good reading people. She always has been. And she doesn't really know what she is seeing in this guy's eyes but whatever it is is warm. And familiar.

"Are you okay?" he asks. And she is a bit lost in her own thoughts to reply right away. It takes her ten seconds to realize that he was asking because they actually crashed against each other. They were so close. He was holding her by the elbows.

She immediately steps back.

"Yeah, sorry. I am so clumsy sometimes, my coordination is not what you may say, sharp," she explains rapidly and awkwardly.

And the guy smiles, and it is the kind of smile that reaches the eyes. And she smiles too.

"I bet you stand out for some other qualities," he chuckles. "You seem smart."

"I am. I think," she adds. She can't realize why she is so disoriented.

"My name is Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Robin Buckley."

And he does this thing with his face, almost like a flinch, a recognition. It is brief but it is there and Robin has seen it, and there is something so weird with him.

Steve drops his gaze, and the weirdness of this situation hits Robin. Why would someone introduce himself just by randomly crashing into someone in the grocery store? What was that familiarity feeling? Why couldn't she just let him go? She followed him there, for fuck's sake.

"Do I know you?" she asks.

Steve just looks at her again, and stares. There is this gleam in his pupils, eyes almost wet, and Robin could swear that it looked so much like hope. For what, she doesn't know.

"I don't think so," and his words sound like a lie.

"Oh. I am–I am sorry, um, this is weird. It's just that I—I have this—"

"Gnawing feeling?" Steve finished.

And yes, that was exactly what she wanted to say.

There is something that Robin feels like it's trapped in the air. Something strange and beautiful, and caged somewhere, fighting with all its forces to break free, but she can't identify it.

"It's okay," he says. "It'll go away. It always does."

Steve smiles at her and it is sad. Robin is starting to get mad, and weirdly emotional and she doesn't know where it comes from and it's infuriating not to know. Her voice kind of wobbles when she speaks again.

"You speak like a total dingus."

Steve laughs. Suddenly and bright and honest, and she laughs too.

"I do. Yeah, I do."

Something is off, but it feels so right. Robin just can't place it. And it must shows in her face because Steve says, "it's okay."

And it is how he says it, like he knows what she is going through, but how could he possibly know.

"See you around, Buckley," he says, so affectionate that aches to hear.

He leaves her there, standing in the middle of the aisle, organizing her own thoughts.

Facts: she knows him. Her body, her heart, her soul reacted at his presence, that much is true. Eddie knows him too. But they just can't remember him.

So many questions, so may things to discover.

Robin smiles.

Robin is a lot of things, but above all, she is curious.

And smart.

And stubborn enough to find her answers.