#its still a completely different language

[thevoidtrainstation]

An Alert

info: this takes place during the VDC, and it's first person.

Also, please tell me if I didn't tag this properly.

Warnings: angst, with a pinch of comfort

word count: 700

Watching them perform from backstage was simultaneously enjoyable yet lonely. Looking between my friends and the crowd singing a lullaby (double check that) so well known it transcends countries, cultures, and languages, no matter how reminiscent or similar it is to songs I know, I just don’t know it. How can a song transcend planets, realities, and dimensions; it can’t. I’m the only one who doesn’t know it, not including the dire beast known as Grim, the only one who’s as clueless about this world as I am, even though he’s from it. Truly, moments such as these make me realize how much of an alien I am.  I’m the sole magicless student in a magic school. I was just about to start college because I graduated early from high school, and now here I am a high school freshman again, in a completely different reality, dimension. This whole thing has been a double-edged sword: being transported to a magical reality is any fantasy reader’s dream come true, but all the unknowns about what’s happening at home and the moments of realization about the massive cultural divides between me and everyone else is unpleasant, to say the least. However, seeing the joy on their faces right now, especially after everything that happened today, makes me treasure these moments and my new friends. My new friends are doing so much to make me feel a part of this place, showing me the “most important” movies, TV shows, and music to catch up on pop culture. Though I feel hollow at times due to the differences between this world and my own, they always manage to fill in that hole a bit. As I focus my mind back on their performance, my breath catches and my body freezes. The unmistakable sound of an emergency alert rings from MY PHONE. My phone, the one that I had on me when I arrived here, the very one that nothing worked on, but what was already downloaded onto it.  With shaking hands I pull out my phone, with much trepidation. Why was it working now? Was it able to connect back to my world, or is it connecting to something here? What’s the alert? If I wasn’t already sitting, I would’ve fallen onto the floor.  “Emergency Alert: incoming atomic bomb, please go to nearest shelter….” In this world of magic, nuclear power and warfare don’t exist: I checked. Trembling, and with deep breaths, I manage to unlock my phone, my eyes darting between the red dots on my messenger, the voicemail, and the news app, all of which hadn’t had that little red dot since I came here.  I go to my family group chat and text “Im safe and healthy calling mom.” As the phone rings, I  bolt to one of the backrooms in the stadium, locking the door behind me. The next couple of minutes blur together as I Facetime my mom, who’s with the rest of my family, explaining what happened to me and asking what's happening there. Raspy broken voices and tears aren’t acknowledged as we catch up and exchange “I love you’s”. The call disconnects, I call again, and again no answer. I call my other family, but the calls aren’t going through. I call my friends, but the calls aren’t going through still. I try every messenger app on my phone.  Nothing. There’s nothing. No connection, no way to reach them, no way to reach anyone.   It was how it was when I got here. The only thing that remains on my phone is what was already downloaded onto it.  I let out a soul-shivering wail. I drop my phone and curl up onto the couch clenching my knees to my chest and burying in my head as I sob.  The nuclear apocalypse happened, and I missed it… The doorknob jiggles.  The door temples as it’s banged on, and rammed against. The nuclear apocalypse happened, There’s no home to go back to... The door flies off its hinges.  I continue to mourn the death of my planet, my home, my life, my family as I feel arms wrap around me.

[riizegasm]

Serpent || H. DM (Taesan)

❀ pairing: mafia boss!taesan x rival mafia boss!reader

❀ genre: enemies to allies to lovers, suggestive, fluff

❀ word count: ~6.2k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of guns, blood, and everything else related to organized crime, suggestive themes, taesan is slightly ooc

❀ summary: Your alliance with the Giant Mountain crashes into your life like a brick through a glass window. As you work together to defeat a common enemy, you realize the old saying is right. The enemy of your enemy is your lover…or whatever…

❀ a/n: Okay so I’m a deep introspection writer, not an action writer, BUT!! I absolutely adore this fic! It’s so different from my usual portrayal of loser!taesan, but it works so well. I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I do. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged. Happy reading!

Your heels click rhythmically against the spotless marble hallway, their sound interrupting the tense silence in the building. A pair of grandiose mahogany doors are opened for you, two men stepping aside to let you in. The office that it leads to is lavish, all of the furniture black with little chrome accents. Even the large desk in the center is an inky shade, clearly recently polished. 

A pair of equally spotless black shoes are propped up on its surface, mile long legs stretched out as their owner reclines in his chair. The smirk that the man wears is sickening, all too familiar. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” the man purrs. “What brings The Beauty of the North into my office?”

“Taesan,” you sigh, pointedly ignoring the nickname. “I need your help.”

You don’t know if it’s the desperation that colors your tone or the obvious frustration painted across your delicate features, but the smirk drops from Taesan’s face. His expression shifts into something more serious, something that could even be mistaken for concern, if you didn’t know the man so well. But this is Han Taesan, for Christ’s sake, the Giant Mountain, known for his harsh and stoic nature. There’s no way he is capable of feeling anything, let alone feeling anything for you. 

In an unlawful world full of enemies and allies, it would be fair to say that Taesan is neither. Your territories are separated from each others’ by the Dragons, an established mafia group known for their arms dealings. Although neither you nor Taesan specialize in arms deals, it makes sense that the groups closest in proximity to you would be your biggest threat. After all, territory disputes are common in your world. 

And well, the enemy of your enemy is your kinda not really friend, or however the saying goes. 

Within a few moments, you are making yourself comfortable in a seat across from Taesan, a steaming mug of tea warming your hands. The man’s expression of concern has completely dropped now, exchanged for the blank stare that he’s known for. Despite the look, you can tell he is still prepared to hear you out, having ordered his men to leave you two in privacy. 

“What’s going on?” Taesan asks after a moment of silence. “It must be pretty bad if you’re coming to me for help.”

“Intel says that the Dragons are preparing a territory breach. Apparently they’ve already started preparing to move their sales into my territory.”

Taesan scoffs. “And what does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes, unsurprised by Taesan’s standoff-ish attitude. “Because you’re next. My source says that they’ve already planted a mole so that they can take you down from the inside once I’m gone. They’re banking on the fact that both of us deal with their attacks alone. But if we deal with them together…”

“We can save both of our asses in one go.”

Despite the way Taesan nods in clear understanding, a scowl begins to cloud his features. Just as fast as it appears, though, it vanishes, replaced with the signature blank stare. 

“How do I know this isn’t a set up?” He questions. “The Dragons and I have been on decent terms for over a year. Why should I believe that they are making their move now?”

You sigh, reaching into your purse to fetch the item that brought you here. You force yourself to ignore the reflexive way Taesan’s hand twitches at the sudden movement, no doubt ready to grab one of the weapons he undoubtedly has stored in his desk. What you’re looking for is hard to miss, and you drop it on the unblemished desk with a loud thud. 

The red brick isn’t particularly large, just sturdy enough to do some minor damage. A piece of white paper remains taped to its rough surface. Across it, bolded words are scribbled. 

THOSE WHO DO NOT FALL IN LINE WILL PERISH!

The only indicator of the sender of the message is a small stamp of a dragon’s face at the bottom of the paper. 

“This shattered the window of one of my shops at around 4am today.”

Taesan hums softly, picking the brick up to inspect it. He lets his eyes linger on its inked surface before nodding to himself. When done, he tosses it back onto the table, not once flinching at the sound it makes. 

“So, will you help me?” You hope your words don’t sound as desperate as you feel. 

Taesan blinks at you once, twice, before sighing. “Fuck it, I’m in. Where do we start?”

You can’t help the small smile that blooms on your face, pleasantly surprised by Taesan’s willingness. 

“First, we find the mole.”

.          .         .

Han Taesan’s main office, or the Mountain Top as it’s better known, is just as flashy as Taesan himself is. Sleek black furniture and equally ebony walls are decorated with hints of chrome, their reflections shining in the perfectly polished marble floors. It’s tasteful, almost. Well, it’s as tasteful as any space run by a man in his twenties could be. But you imagine that it’s much easier when your empire is passed down to you by a filthy rich grandfather and not fought for tooth and nail like the one you yourself have built. 

There’s a difference in respect, you’d assume, between a leader who fought for their empire and a leader who was given it. But Taesan’s men don’t seem to show any lack in their appreciation for him. They bow a full ninety degrees as the man treks through the hallways, mile long legs moving gracefully in perfectly tailored dress pants. He commands a degree of authority without ever having to open his mouth. That silent reverence is probably what is saving you from a slew of unsavory comments from his underlings. 

Men in the business are never shy about treating pretty people like they are nothing more than just that. You’re used to people outside of your organization seeing you as nothing but a literal and metaphorical breeding ground for promiscuity. It took years of decapitating people for them to realize that your power extends to much more beyond your looks. 

The thought makes you sway your hips a little bit more than usual as you follow Taesan down an immaculate hallway. He leads you to a small set of doors, not bothering to knock before he simply barges in. The room hosts a slew of monitors and keyboards, all seemingly monitored by one person who sits at a central desk. 

The kid is clearly young, boyish features and a dark brown bed head giving him away. A pair of headphones fit snug over his ears, making it so that the boy hasn’t acknowledged either of his guests. Taesan just chuckles fondly before reaching over and snatching them off. His laughter only grows as the boy scrambles to his feet, falling over himself to bow deeply. 

“Sir, please excuse the disrespect,” he blubbers. “I was just watching back the tapes of yesterday’s deal and I got too into the details and—,”

Taesan claps a hand over the boy’s shoulder, smiling softly. You try not to stare at the handsome way his features contort in obvious fondness. It’s amazing to see Han Taesan be anything other than his stoic self. You would be lying if you said that he didn’t look undeniably attractive. 

“It’s okay, Woonhak. Seriously, straighten up.”

The boy does as told, embarrassment still coloring his cheeks. You struggle not to coo at the plush redness of his cheeks, further emphasizing his youth. 

“I came because I need your help with something. We need help with something. This is Y/N…,”

“The Beauty of the North,” Woonhak breathes, clearly in awe. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

This time, you don’t bother to hide your smile. “You as well, Woonhak.”

“What can I help you with?”

Taesan clears his throat, back to his stoic nature. “I need you to pull all phone records and text conversations for all of our men and scan them for any mention of the Dragons.”

“All of them?” Woonhak scoffs in disbelief. “But that’s over fifty men.”

“I know. But it’s really important, and time sensitive, too.”

You nod in agreement. “We’d like to have them by tonight, if we can.”

Taesan folds his arms over his chest, making his suit jacket shift across the broadness of his shoulders. You struggle to look away from the tightening fabric, hating the warmth that rises to your cheeks at the sight. Now is not the time. 

Woonhak seems to mull over the timeframe before responding. “I mean it would take all day and I would have to get to work right now, but I think I can do it!”

“Perfect,” Taesan sighs. “I’ll get Sungho to cover the rest of your workload for today. And Woonhak?”

The boy in question cocks his head, not unlike an intrigued puppy. 

“This stays between us, okay?”

The boy nods eagerly, miming zipping his lips closed before smiling. You can’t help the tiny laugh that bubbles in your throat at the over exaggerated action. Taesan seems amused too, if his hint of a smile is anything to go by. It’s only when the two of you exit the room once again that his smile drops. 

“Are you sure we can trust him?” You ask, nerves beginning to tickle at the base of your stomach. 

Taesan sighs. “Honestly, he’s the only one that I can say for sure that I trust. If he were the mole, my whole organization would be going down in flames.”

“Let’s hope that it’s not him, then.”

“Yeah,” Taesan mumbles, shaking his head. “Let’s.”

The tense aura that had once overcome the space begins to dissipate as Taesan straightens up, casually fixing his tie before beginning to head back down the long hallway from which you came. He clearly makes no move to check if you’re following behind, but something tells you that he’s listening to the measured clack of your heels against the marble floors. The tilt of his head is subtle, but it’s a dead giveaway that he’s listening; Han Taesan actually gives a shit about whether or not you’re following him. 

You only make it a few paces before Taesan stops short. He freezes so abruptly that you run straight into him, yet the force doesn’t sway him one bit. He’s silent for a moment, two, until a short yell echoes in the otherwise silent hallway. Silence quickly returns, then fades once again when it is pierced by a sound you know all too well—a gunshot. 

Taesan is quick to spring into action when a bullet whizzes past the both of you, luckily missing and lodging itself into an adjacent wall. He turns quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you tight against him. He ushers the two of you behind a large pillar that divides the massive hallway in two. You remain tucked against the man’s chest, his crisp suit jacket wrinkled where you’re holding on for dear life. 

It’s not like any of this is new to you. In your business, shootouts and confrontations are just about an everyday affair. But it’s different when it’s on enemy turf. It’s different when you are miles away from your own headquarters and your own men. For all you know, Taesan could use you as a human shield while he escapes! But something about the way his large hand spans your waist, keeping you tucked to his chest, proves otherwise. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, breath warm as it fans your face in the close proximity. 

“Yeah, you?”

The man just hums in response, the simple vibration making a home in your own chest where it’s pressed to his. It brings you an odd sense of calm despite the calamity around you, another set of shots going off. They whiz past the pillar the two of you are tucked behind. 

Taesan reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a pistol, clicking the safety off and cocking it immediately. His other hand still remains firmly on your waist, not once faltering where he keeps you tucked close. He’s quick to lean over you, arm outstretched, only taking a quick peek around the pillar before firing off three shots. You can feel the recoil in your veins, the simple pop pop pop nestling deep into your flesh. No matter how long you’ve been in this world, the sound of guns firing at close range will never not startle you. 

There’s a loud thud that fills the office space, followed by a prolonged period of silence. Taesan’s breath is shaky but controlled, clearly preparing to fire off more shots if needed. But as some more time passes, it’s clear that the shooter is down. Taesan, however, doesn’t move, still peering down his nose at you. You hate the way that his gaze ignites something deep in your core. Silently, you pray that he can’t feel the heavy thump of your heart against your ribs, or that he at least just passes it off as adrenaline. 

“I think I got him,” Taesan whispers. “Stay here, I’ll go ch—,”

“MR. HAN?? Sir, where are you?!” A voice exclaims from down the hallway. 

Taesan visibly exhales at the sound of the voice, finally taking a step away from you and ducks around the pillar. You loathe the way his absence leaves you cold. 

“What the fuck was that?” Taesan exclaims. “Sanghyuk, please tell me that wasn’t one of our own.”

You take that as your cue that it’s safe to come out, steps shaky as you leave your hiding spot. The war zone that you step into almost makes you collapse. There’s a series of bullet holes lodged into various walls and some desks. A few bodies lay unmoving further down the hallway, all dressed in black suits similar to Taesan’s. But the man in charge is stationed on the other end of the hallway, bent over a limp body with a few of his other men. A sea of crimson slowly expands below their feet, matching the color splattered along the wall. If you looked close enough, you’re sure you would be able to see some brain matter stuck to the sleek white walls. 

Taesan is merciless as he lifts the body’s head by pulling on a fistful of hair. He takes one look at the face and scoffs before letting the face fall back to the floor. It makes a wet smack when it hits the floor, sending another splatter of blood up to Taesan’s ankles. The man doesn’t even flinch, brows pinching in anger as he rights himself. He crosses his arms against his chest, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

“Fucking Minjoong!” He exclaims. “I should’ve known to not let in that slimy fuck.”

You swallow thickly. “Who was he?”

The man next to Taesan responds, running a hand through his dyed red hair. “A fairly new recruit. He cornered us coming back from a deal and begged to be let in. But it’s clear now that he was a mole.”

The final word has you looking to Taesan, searching his features for any sign of relief. But it doesn’t come. Instead he just motions at the bodies strewn across the office, sighing loudly. 

“Clean this up,” he orders. “I’m taking Y/N home. Everyone is dismissed for the day.”

The man next to him splutters. “But sir, it’s only—,”

“I don’t give a shit. We’re done here.”

.         .         .

A few days pass before you hear from Taesan again. It’s filled with much of the same mundane work that you always do. Your underlings make runs for you, support your fronts, and send you reports, just to wake up and do it all again the next day. The monotony gives you a dangerous amount of time to think. And every time you’re supposed to be thinking about the Dragons and their next move, your mind wanders to broad shoulders in black suits and large hands steadying your waist. 

You’re caught up in your familiar daydream when the text from Taesan comes in. You try your best to ignore the flutter in your core as his name pops up on your phone screen. 

Minjoong isn’t the only one. I’ll meet you at your HQ in 15.

It’s exactly fourteen minutes later when one of your men is knocking on the door of your office. He has Taesan in tow as he steps into the large space, greeting you with a small bow. 

“The Giant Mountain is here to see you.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your gaze flicker over Taesan’s figure where he stands. “Thanks, Donghyun. I’ll call you if I need you.”

The man sends another small bow before he leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It leaves you and Taesan in an uncomfortable silence, tension inexplicably high. For a moment, you swear Taesan eyes the curve of your chest before meeting your gaze. But you’re sure it must just be a figment of your imagination. 

“So,” you begin, folding your manicured hands underneath your chin. “What did you find out?”

Taesan smirks before sitting down across the desk. He’s surprisingly relaxed for being on supposed enemy turf, legs stretched out as he sinks into his seat. 

“There’s four.”

You cock your head, confused by the simple statement. “Four of what?”

“Four filthy fuckin’ moles in my org. All of them were stupid enough to text evidence back and forth to each other.”

“So you know their plan?”

Taesan sighs. “Not quite. Only bits and pieces were explained in the texts, but it’s enough to prove that Minjoong’s little attack from the other day was intended to cause chaos.”

“Not to kill you?”

The cocky smile you’ve gotten used to Taesan wearing crosses his countenance. “Not yet.”

There’s something in the gleam in Taesan’s eye that fills you with both terror and excitement. In a world like your own, organization leaders have to be predators, ready to pounce on anything that crosses their path. Even though you aren’t his intended target, it’s impossible not to feel like prey as his dark gaze bores into yours. Even as his expression drops into his calculated stoicism, you can feel your heart pounding against the cage of your ribs, just waiting to be exposed and devoured. 

“I’ll have some of my men do some…gathering of information out of the three remaining moles and see if we can get anything about the Dragons’ plan for you,” Taesan says with a slow nod. 

“Thank you,” the words lift a weight off your chest as they are spoken aloud. “Seriously.”

Taesan just shrugs. “We’re allies now. It’s the least I can do.”

The “least he can do” turns out to be exactly what you expected. The picture comes to your phone late at night, and you gasp when you see the carnage it contains. Blood is splattered across a large black tarp, speckled in some spots while it creates crimson lagoons in others. If you look closely, you can spot some teeth strewn across the carpet, shining like stars in the night sky. In the foreground, there’s a table laid out with various instruments, pliers, bone saws, and hammers, along with two detached fingers, dripping a sea of red onto the table. The text it accompanies is simple:

Got what we needed. My HQ, tomorrow at 10.

Despite the nausea that lingers in your stomach from the picture, you find yourself in Taesan’s office at approximately 10:01 am the next morning. The man has forgone his suit jacket this time, his crisp white shirt rolled up to expose the tattooed skin of his forearms. There’s something about him that seems a little disheveled, erratic, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It isn’t until you see three crushed energy drink cans by the trash can that the pieces come together. 

“Great, you’re here!” Taesan greets. “So those fuckers put up a fight, but eventually we got somewhere. It turns out that the four of them joined my org to—,”

“Taesan,” you interrupt, trying not to coo at the confused look you are given in response. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Taesan sputters for a moment, ruffling his already disheveled hair. “Like two days ago. But that’s not important! We have so much to do. We’re finally getting somewhere.”

“Taesan, you need to sleep. Do you have a place you can sleep here?”

“The penthouse,” Taesan responds, voice small like a scolded child. 

“Then let’s go. You need to get some rest.”

It takes a bit more back and forth and jerky movements of the body to convince Taesan to take a well deserved break. The elevator ride up to the penthouse is short enough that Taesan doesn’t have the chance to change his mind. When you step into the apartment, you notice how different the space is from any of Taesan’s offices, yet threads of the man’s style are still there. 

Floor to ceiling windows allow for plenty of light to fill the space, despite the overcast skies. Most of his furniture is in various shades of gray and black, matching the sky. The floors are sleek as you step in, clearly recently mopped and polished to the point where your reflection stares back at you when you glance down. The pristine floors are just one of the many things about this apartment that shows that it is untouched, uninhabited, and that Taesan really hasn’t slept. 

“I’m going to go,” you say softly, watching as Taesan loosens his tie with a sigh. “Get some sleep.”

Before you can cross back through the threshold, a chilled hand grips your wrist, pulling you back softly. Taesan’s eyes are bright when they meet yours, his gaze pleading. 

“Do you mind staying? Just for a bit. I want to tell you what I found out before you go.”

The slight waver of his eyebrows makes you wonder when you went from the stoicism of the Giant Mountain to the open expressions of Han Taesan. The man known for his ruthlessness and icy exterior has seemingly melted into a pool of warmth. He isn’t demanding anything from you, like the way he does with his underlings. Instead he is asking, feline eyes widening so that he looks as if he’s begging. 

“Fine,” you sigh, your resolve crumbling as warmth pools in your core. “Just for a bit though.”

You should have known that Taesan’s information would take longer than “just a bit.” He’s overly animated as he goes through what he found out from each of the moles, not sparing any of the gory details as he spells out their torture. In the end, all of Taesan’s ramblings lead to one central point. The Dragons are after what everyone else in the world is after—money. 

“His attacks on your side are much simpler. He wants to do business with th—,” Taesan cuts himself off with a yawn, nose scrunching not unlike a disgruntled cat. 

“I really think you should get some sleep, Taesan.”

As you move to gather your belongings, a soft voice calls out to you, thick with the beginnings of sleep. “Is that your secret?”

“My secret to what?”

“You know,” Taesan yawns again. “Your nickname. You looking like that. You get plenty of beauty rest, don’t you, sweetheart?”

A snort escapes you before you can catch it, caught off guard by Taesan’s candid questions. “Yes, Taesan. I get plenty of beauty rest. You should too.”

You watch as the man shoots you a small smile before his eyes drift shut, fully succumbing to sleep. The sight of Taesan curled up on the couch, chest rising and falling evenly, has the tendrils of anger slowly traversing your veins. It’s not anger at the mellow expression of the sleeping man before you, but rather at the reason you are in this situation in the first place. 

The Dragons are seeking to destroy lives just for their own selfish gain. All they want is more territory, more arms sales, more men, more, more, more. Their greed knows no end. The thought of all they have destroyed and what they could destroy has you steaming, anger boiling in your gut threatening to boil over. 

The Dragons have plans to take Taesan’s life, and you simply can’t let that happen. 

It’s there, watching Taesan’s unconscious form that you realize that you have to be ruthless in your fight against the Dragons. You have to be swift and venomous, striking like a serpent. With the unwavering stability of Taesan’s men behind you, there’s no doubt that you can be successful. You just have to be willing to die for it. 

.        .        .

Sub Zero is always packed on a Saturday night. It’s one of Taesan’s well known clubs, a perfect front for pushing the more illicit activities that his empire is known for. It’s the only place in the city where someone could buy drugs and do them right then and there, making it a popular destination. With its flashing lights and swanky cocktails, anyone could mistake it as a normal club. But the way the bass rumbles in your chest reminds you that this is anything but. 

Only two of your men flank your sides as you squeeze your way through club goers and partiers. It’s clear that some of them are out of it, too deep into their high to notice the world around them. They move as an amorphous crowd, a blob of bodies that bob and weave to the beat. It makes it harder to reach your destination, but finally you arrive at a roped off section in the back right corner of the club. 

A burly man dressed in a sleek black suit guards the section, eyes concealed as he gazes out at the crowd. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you can tell he’s looking right at you. All it takes is a slight cock of your head before the man is stepping aside, unlatching the black velvet rope to allow you in. You just shoot the man a smile as you climb the few steps to the elevated section, eyes immediately locked on the man who invited you in. 

Taesan looks delectable tonight. He’s not in his normal suit, the way most of his men are. Instead, he dons a leather jacket over what appears to be a black tank top. His black jeans are loose where they fit across his spread legs, the man leaning back lazily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, some type of dark liquor, only greeting you with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“You came,” he smirks as you get closer. “Didn’t think this would be the crowd for the Beauty of the North.”

You roll your eyes as you sit next to him, your little black dress straining across the width of your hips. The outfit is clearly to Taesan’s satisfaction, if the way his eyes sweep over your figure is anything to go by. His eyes linger on the fullness of your chest, the dip in your waist, and the curve of your hips. 

“See something you like?” You tease. 

“Oh,” Taesan smirks. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

A molten feeling blooms in your gut at Taesan’s words, forcing you to struggle to hide heated cheeks. But the man doesn’t break eye contact. For as stoic as he is when he’s sober, he’s a pretty loose drunk. His confidence is palpable as he drinks; You hate that you find it as undeniably sexy as you do. 

“Did you invite me to talk business or to flirt?”

Taesan takes a slow sip of his liquor, leaning closer to you. “And what if I wanted to do both?”

At this point, he’s close enough that you can smell the liquor on his breath—whiskey. If it were anyone else, you would hate the smell. But it’s Taesan, and you find your mouth watering, desiring to drink its essence straight from his mouth. You wonder if his lips would be as soft as they look, if his perfect teeth would nibble on your lips just so.

You clear your throat in an attempt to break the haze of your daydream. 

“What did you need to tell me?” You press, voice vibrating your chest along with the bass of the song blasting through the club speakers. 

Taesan leans even closer, letting his lips brush the soft shell of your ear. 

“I know how to take them out,” he whispers. “I just need you to trust me. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, mouth suddenly dry at the deep drawl of Taesan’s voice in your ear. It’s intoxicating, his confidence, the way he speaks, the soft brush of his lips against your skin. It’s enough to have you clenching your thighs together, ashamed at how easily the man gets you going. 

“What am I going to need to do?”

Taesan pulls away only slightly, clearly disappointed by your response. A large hand comes underneath your chin, nudging your face so that you’re forced to lock eyes with him. It only lasts for a moment, Taesan’s gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes once again. A pink tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and you find yourself tracking the motion with your gaze. 

“Can you do that?” Taesan repeats firmly. “Do you trust me, baby?”

You don’t know if it’s the deep rasp of his voice or the fire in his gaze, but something about his demeanor tells you that this is real for him and not just the alcohol talking. Taesan knows that this is life or death for both of you. If you’re in this, you have to be in it for real. 

So you take a shaky breath, nodding slowly. 

“I trust you, Taesan.”

The man smirks, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Good,” he whispers, dropping your face. “Just know that I got you. We’re taking the Dragons down…together.”

.         .         .

The serpent strikes on a Sunday. 

Taesan came up with the code phrase, his signal to let you know that the plan was in motion. It was the signal for you to come into the scene and do what you do best: be the Beauty of the North. 

Your men come in silently, slowly infiltrating the Dragon’s Den by taking his underlings out one by one. You’ve always been a big fan of silence, favoring knives to guns. It allows each of your men the element of surprise, a simple flick of the wrist opening up each member’s throat and exposing their blood to the world. They fall within seconds. 

It almost seems too easy to make your way through the building, only flanked by two of your men, the only two with firearms. Donghyun’s pistol is decorated with a silencer, the accessory allowing you to keep your element of surprise as he takes out three Dragons stationed near their leader’s office. The opening is clear as the rest of your men continue to take out the lower level Dragons, leaving only one man left to deal with. 

Jaehyun counts you and Donghyun down before kicking the door open, both of their guns ready to fire. However, you’re not expecting to be met with at least five men, one of which wearing a calm expression that you know all too well. At least half of the men are somewhat familiar to you, their black suits all to similar to their leader’s, who greets you with a blank stare. It stuns you into place, the two men next to you equally as shocked. 

“Taesan?”

“And here I was thinking that the fucker was lying,” Kim Jaeyoon, head of the Dragons, snarls. “The Beauty of the North really came to fucking kill me.”

You can’t even bother to address the man, too busy searching the familiar feline gaze that remains trained on you down the barrel of a gun. Your heart has fallen to your feet, a constricting feeling squeezing your throat into knots. You don’t even dare to breathe, too stunned by the thought of one wrong move ending in your death at the hands of your ally. 

Jaeyoon lets out a wicked chuckle, seemingly amused by your stunned state. “It’s over. If you surrender now, I’ll let your men join me instead of killing them. I just might let you be my pretty armpiece, too.”

The man rounds his desk, stooping a few paces from you. Taesan moves with him, consistently protecting the man’s flank. You still can’t manage to look away from him, hurt and betrayal leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“You made me a lucky man, Taesan,” Jaeyoon chuckles. “Who would have thought that you would really deliver me such a pretty thing on a silver platter?”

You flinch away before Jaeyoon can stroke his knuckles against the fullness of your cheekbone. From somewhere behind you, you can hear Jaehyun and Donghyun struggling, no doubt having been restrained the minute you all entered the office. You admire their desire to protect you, even now, when everything is so clearly coming to an end. 

“Don’t play hard to get now. I offered you a generous deal, Y/N,” Jaeyoon cooes, breath rancid where it fans your face. 

Despite your disgust at the man before you, your attention never leaves the figure to his left. Taesan looks stoic as always, almost bored at the interaction in front of him. His nonchalance has anger bubbling in your core, heating your face. 

“Taesan, why?”

The man just blinks back, face unmoving. “Well, the serpent strikes on a Sunday.”

An almost simultaneous cacophony of shots ring out, threatening to burst your eardrums and forcing you to recoil. Something warm and wet splatters across the room, dirtying the otherwise untainted surface of your dress. You’re sure that this is it, that you have finally met your end. But when you don’t feel any sources of searing pain, you dare to open your eyes. 

Taesan’s chest is heaving where he stands over Kim Jaeyoon’s limp body, gun still smoking in his hands. A few of the other unrecognizable men have met a similar fate as their boss, bodies strewn across the luxurious office space. Slowly, Taesan lowers his gun, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“God, I always fucking hated him.”

An arm snakes its way around your waist, pulling your stunned figure into a firm chest. You wonder if Taesan can feel the roaring of your heart where it’s pressed against his, not sure if it’s pounding out of anger or pure fear. 

“Are you okay?” Taesan whispers.

You let out a shaky breath, reveling in the man’s warmth for a moment. But when you regain your composure, you pull away abruptly, landing a harsh blow to Taesan’s arm. 

“Fuck you,” you exclaim. “You scared me, you fuck!”

Taesan hisses as he rubs the sore spot. “What was that for? I just saved your life!”

“I thought you ratted me out!”

Taesan just rolls his eyes, wasting no time in pulling you back into him. This time, he engulfs you in a proper hug, arms tightening around you and tucking you under his chin. You’re powerless to do anything but hug back. 

“I told you that you had to trust me, sweetheart.”

“I did…I still do! It’s just…” you sigh. “Don’t do that again!”

Taesan’s chuckle is little more than just a rumble of his chest underneath your head. “Let’s hope I don’t have to.”

.         .         .

The second time you end up in Taesan’s apartment is unlike the first one. Instead of a sleepy Taesan rambling about his latest torturing, he’s very much awake, mouth too occupied with meeting yours to do any talking. 

Taesan’s mouth is insistent against yours, kissing you deeper, harder, with each press of his lips. It’s far from his usual stoic demeanor, the way his kisses turn demanding and sloppy within seconds. His wandering hands prove to be equally as demanding as they sweep the expanse of your body, squeezing your ass underneath the tight fabric of your dress. 

You aren’t fairing much better, your own fingers tangling in the man’s inky locks. The nibble of teeth against your bottom lip has you arching even further into Taesan’s hold, a soft whimper leaving your lips. It’s too much and not nearly enough all at the same time. You crave to feel the shift of Taesan’s muscles underneath his skin, his hands as they explore you, his mouth as he follows his fingers’ path. 

You’re so consumed that you barely realize that Taesan has pulled away, blindly chasing his lips before you blink your eyes open. Instead of a greasy smirk, Taesan’s mouth is slightly parted, chest heaving where it remains pressed to yours. He slides a hand up to cup your jaw, thumb beginning to trace across your bottom lip. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” He whispers. 

His irises are dark, pupils almost completely eclipsing the small rings of color. Gone is the stoic Taesan that you’re used to. This Taesan feels. And so do you. 

“I trust you, Taesan.”

.FIN.

[nahidasgarden]

Miss Nahida! or.. lesser lord.. whatever you prefer! ive been learning languages, what do you think I should learn next?

-as Estella/@murderousaudhdcat

Hello! You can call me Nahida!

I think a nice challenge for you would be learning a form of sign language. There are many different kinds of sign languages for different regions, so even if you are familiar with the Sumeru dialect you may still have a pleasant challenge learning Sumerian Sign Language. :)

I see a lot of scholars in the Akedemia overlook learning sign because it may be more interesting to decode ancient texts. Yet, those who may not be able to speak for themselves or hear the outside world also have their own fountains of knowledge.

It's beneficial to learn about other cultures, even if it's within our same country. I think this would be a great challenge for you, Estella!

[applepies-and-starlight]

I feel like a fucking idiot.

I'm part chinese, I know the vaguest amount of chinese, I've even taken mandarin classes throughout my life...

Yet somehow, somehow, I failed to realize that PM (may have) made a double-meaning joke with the 'hong' in Hong Lu's name meaning 'red'

[dovedrangeas]

the good ol "i dont see my child as an individual with their own mind, thoughts, opinions, and unique needs, and instead i see them as an object that i can control and make plans and set up expectations for for without problem or consideration, and if they aren't in the narrow boundaries of what i want them to be, i will act like they have died and talk about how hard this is for ME" special

[jtbb]

feel free to explain in the tags!! sorry if this is like . a weird question and its just a me thing after all

[zo1nkss]

Venty slightly ranty thoughts in tags about some takes I've seen on twitter if u don't want to see that

[givemaycoffee]

Sitting here and listening to all the languages/accents around me, and I just remembered that post about how American accents belong in the tv.

Spain Spanish speakers feel that way to me. Why does your Spanish sound like that. Get back in the television. What the heck.

[tracle0]

I am torn up over whether or not animals learn their language.

I have a niece and nephew. The niece is learning to properly talk, my nephew is still babbling in baby speak. We teach them both how to say things. She can say “please?” When I offer to do a task for her. He waves excitedly when he sees me. Those are things we have taught them.

My nephew cries when he’s startled or tired or hungry. He has been doing this since he was born, and will continue doing it until he’s old enough to express what’s wrong with him (and hopefully for a while after that). We did not teach him this. Perhaps we reinforced it - he’d cry, and he’d get fed. He’d cry, and he’d be held. He’d cry, and he’d get space to sleep.

Last night, there were cats yowling outside my window. I listen to the whining noise and wonder if they’ve always known how to do that, or if they were taught it. I think about a young cat, first encroaching on another’s territory, and wonder if he was startled when such a cruel noise greeted him.

Some of it has to be innate. I was never taught that a long, hard state is a sign of aggression, never shown a diagram about what different smiles mean, but I still know; too many teeth can be an over-enthusiast aunt seeing me at Christmas, or it can be a leering man, trying to swindle something from me. Closed lips can express my discomfort at a crowded room, or be genuine delight. A lot of it is in the eyes, maybe?

So much of animal language is non-verbal. The 45 degree head tilt. A wagging tail. Ears pinned back or eyes stretched wide. Are any of these taught? Or are they just… known? I assume most of it is innate. You don’t hear a dog correct it’s puppy’s barks.

Crows have different alarm calls for different threats that they call for their fledglings. The fledgling learn what enemies of the nest look like and remember, pass this on to other crows when they’re older. They can tell each other which people are friendly, which people throw rocks at them. Did they have to be taught how to exchange this knowledge?

Animals from different counties have different dialects. Orcas have different languages, and cannot understand those from different oceans. At the same time, ants from different colonies can merge together and work together even between different countries. Meaning portrayed through scents we never notice, sounds we’ll never hear, movements far too subtle for us to see. I want to know what they’re saying. I want to know if they had to learn.

The fact I’ll never know drives me crazy.

[arolesbianism]

I am building so many hcs for Moon in my mind I love her so much enough so to think abt ancient politics girlie better consider herself lucky (I say, as if fictional politics becoming to long dead societies isn't my favorite shit to explore)

[agustdtown1]

FOREVER GRATEFUL | JJK

PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader.

SUMMARY: jeon jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you and your sinful needs more than he should, and for that you will forever be grateful.

WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS: age gap, jungkook’s older than reader (although there’s no mention of a specific age), their relationship is not the healthiest but they manage, jk’s line of work is not specified but it is hinted that it’s illegal, small (very small) mention of blood, pet names (doll, princess, pretty girl…), it is hinted —and mentioned, that reader doesn’t have much experience about sex, smut, pwp (porn with plot because I got carried away, but only here and there), restraining, blindfolding, unprotected sex (be better), fingering, light choking, biting, marking, name calling (slut, dumb), jk cumming inside reader, i kinda rushed the end so it’s not that good tbh. 18+ only!

A/N: so… this is my first time writing for the boys since I created my account, I hope this is not as bad as I think it is and that you can enjoy your reading. Lmk what you think and also, english is not my first language so if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes pls just ignore them <3!

masterlist

“Stay still.”

A husky voice rang into your ears, making a feeling as warm as the sun start to spread through your whole body; an electrifying sensation running through your veins, while goosebumps found solace on your skin. His voice has always been your favorite sound. The raspiness and low register adorning the man’s voice often got you weak in the knees, whenever he would whisper to you or call your name. And this time was no different, however, it seemed to have a stronger power over you. As magnetic as the voice of a siren, pulling the unlucky sailors out of the safety of their boats and into the depths of the cold water of the ocean; ready to devour them in such a frenzy that the last thing you could hear from the poor men was the start of a plea that would forever be unfinished.

Regardless of the difference between scenarios, the comparison seemed to be fitting. Jeon Jungkook was often described as magnetic, with the words alluring and charming following not so far behind. It would explain why you were found in such an interesting predicament at the moment.

A chill breeze brushing over your warm, bare skin, snapped you out of your wandering thoughts. The indication was short and simple. Discard your clothes from the very first moment you walk into the room and wait for him in bed. And so, your body, as many times before, was left completely exposed to Junkook’s hungry eyes; moreover, his eagerness to devour you was crystal clear, not daring to hide his fervent desire of having another taste of your sweet body. Watching you like a predator would to its prey.

His hands were tingling with excitement, for the future adventure both of you would go through, in a matter of minutes. Tonight, like many others, was dedicated solely to you, to your enjoyment; for you to, once again, discover a part of yourself that has yet to see the morning sun and yet to taste the deliciousness of the unknown. A new experience, a new journey, a brand new feeling for you to replay over and over again in your head, during those painfully lonely nights, when you could only find calmness in the feather-like touch of your fingers, running through your needy and greedy body.

Jungkook, however, knew exactly what he was doing by making you wait until your breaking point, waiting for a whine to fall from your precious lips, or for your desperate hand to reach out to him, whatever happens first, but in a silent plea for even a sliver of his attention. He had memorized every gesture, every reaction, every movement you would do, and it entertained the man more than it should.

“You’re tense.” Jungkook pointed out, easing the knots in your shoulders with his skillful hands. “What’s gotten you this aggravated, princess?”

It was the mocking tone, the graceful touch, or even his inviting eyes; whatever it was, it served as a decisive factor to push yourself forward and wrap your arms around his empty neck, like a snake would with its prey; hard and firm.

Desperate hands were first, then.

“You.” An answer was uttered, yet there was a lack of reaction from the man in front of you.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Jungkook taunted, acknowledging the power he had over you. “But don’t think I have forgotten the order I gave you.”

It left you confused for a good second, before his strong hands reached out for yours, stripping himself off from your needy touch.

“Stay still.” Jeon ordered once again, smirking once you obeyed.

You knew better than to challenge him, knowing that your safest option was to follow his instructions with no objection, if you wanted to get your awaited reward, that is.

Who would have thought that you’d be so accustomed to this routine. If asked, then give. If given, then be grateful for it.

The older man has improved your sex life in a matter of a few months, introducing your inexperienced self to the wonders of healthy and eccentric intercourse. Jungkook has proven to you many times in the span of a few months that your negative expectations of sex were granted by your poorly skilled sexual partners. Never once experiencing a dull moment since you were left in the dangerous hands of Jeon Jungkook.

If asked, then give. If given, be grateful.

Just like a believer would with whatever God sets in their path. Just like a kid would when a gift was left under the Christmas tree. You were grateful. It was easy to be. For it was gratefulness that had been installed within you from the moment yours and Jungkook’s paths have crossed.

Nonetheless, as grateful as you were, the hesitation in the back of your head didn’t seem to want to leave. The more Jungkook gave you, the more you wondered if you deserved it. But it reasoned with you that the true cause for your indecisiveness was the premise under which your relationship with the tattooed man had developed.

They don’t make men like him anymore, it’s what your friend had told you when she first introduced you to him, and it scared you. It frightened you that your only option to survive in such a cruel world was to cling to a man that was yet to explain what his line of work was. But then again, you didn’t want to know.

If Jungkook came back from work, looking unkempt and exhausted it was none of your business. That blood stain has always been on his shirt for all you knew. His sketchy friends have never once disrespected you, and that was enough for the time being. If he has broken the law, you don't need to know.

You would never know.

If asked, then give. If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

That’s a matter in which you could actually participate. In fact, it’s the way you were taught to be for the past few months.

You earn what you’re given, so show manners and be thankful.

Don’t question, just take. A mindset that has gotten you to where you were right now. In the bedroom of, by far, the most dangerous man in all Korea. Yet, not once has your well-being been threatened, and for that you're grateful.

And you're about to show it.

“You deserve it.” Jungkook reminded you before straying away to roam through his drawers.

The anticipation was killing you. Your eager eyes couldn’t see past his bare and muscular back facing you. Jeon thrived on the way your lustful gaze would always settle on his body, hence the lack of a shirt. Only a low waisted pair of jeans, that allowed you to see the hem of his Calvin Klein underwear, were preventing you from seeing his firm thighs.

You enjoyed the view, more than you probably should. How his muscles flexed when he moved, and the way his toned back shone under the dim light of the room.

It was such a delectable sight for your painfully sore eyes.

“You ready?” The question snapped you out of your thoughts, making you notice how close he was now.

“Yes.” You answered with light hesitation.

Your major enemy showing up once again: indecisiveness. But that wouldn’t stop you from giving yourself to the man in front of you. Not this time.

“Yes, what?” Jeon insisted. “Don’t forget your manners.”

“Yes, sir, I’m ready.” It fell naturally from your lips.

A satisfied smirk appeared on his face.

“Good girl.”

The dark haired man reached out for your wrists, placing a delicate kiss on both of them before tying them with a silky tie of his, and forcing your wandering hands to stay still once and for all.

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook gently asked.

“No, sir, I don’t.”

It was the only correct answer, and both you and Jungkook knew it.

The moment he earned your trust would be the moment he’d have to leave you behind, to fend for yourself and for you to learn how to navigate through the dark corners of your unlucky life.

Trusting him means leaving your guard down, leaving your guard down means being vulnerable, and Jungkook knew better than to be vulnerable, especially in the type of life he lived in. He didn’t want you to make that mistake, and if it meant giving you reasons to doubt him, then so be it.

“Are you gonna do as I say?” Jeon inquired.

“I will.”

“Good.” He leaned down to steal a harsh kiss from you. “You have no idea how bad I’m going to ruin you tonight.”

A slight shiver ran down your spine, knowing too well that his words were far from being an empty promise.

His tattooed hands descended on your bare body, ever so delicate, ever so tender. A stark contrast to what his real intentions were, and it left you craving more of it. Your insatiable desire for being thoroughly worshiped by his lips, his hands, all of him. It was never enough, and it will never be.

Like a stray dog in need of being fed, you needed his touch to be satisfied. Luckily for you, Jungkook was always a man to deliver everything you asked for, even if not verbally.

His eyes, never swerving from your body, took in all the reactions you gave him; from the way your lips formed a perfect o-shape, freeing the most delicious sounds, to how your back arched oh so naturally when his already trained fingers made their way towards the south part of your body. The place where he would get baptized every night, like a strong believer. Ending his thirst with the holy liquid you would suffice him with, not once asking for anything in return, but thankful of his merciful goddess showing appreciation for his dedication.

The only thing is, you weren’t a goddess and he wasn’t a believer. And the whole scenario was way more dirty in reality than what you’d often fantasize.

“Such a pretty doll.” Jungkook brought you back into reality with his husky voice, “Always so responsive.”

His middle finger traveled down to reach your entrance, teasing you with his light touch. Waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to beg. But just like he knew you so well, it was easy for you to tell when he wanted something from you. So rather than give Jungkook what he wanted, you settled for playing a game that would get you in a situation where not even God would help you.

You moved your hips ever so lightly, testing how far you could go without the tattooed man reminding you who’s in charge. Chasing his touch was easy, attaining it was a whole different story. And it was proven to you that tonight the ball was not in your court, when all you got was a chuckle from the man, while he retrieved his hand and leaned down to be face to face with you.

“Have you not learned anything yet, princess?” His dark voice made you tremble in your spot. “Or have you forgotten how things work around here, hm?”

Unwilling to answer, the only response he got from you was a strained whine, yet Jeon could see the desperation in your eyes, the fervent desire to be ruined by him, to be left defenseless and at his complete mercy. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it stopped being yours the moment he set his eyes on you.

Jeon Jungkook owned you, that much was obvious. And as terrifying as it was, the fact was equally thrilling.

“How badly do you want me?” He tried again, with a question that drove you crazy. “Be good for me and say the words, princess.”

Wasn’t it evident? People often thought that you were too harsh to deal with, too rude, too much to handle. It didn’t offend you, nor did it crack your heart whenever someone would complain about your hot temper and crude attitude. However, at this precise moment, you were giving the man in front of you exactly what he was asking for, albeit not verbally, but your body was working on its own accord. For every light touch, Jeon would get a shiver, squirming, even a plea from your eyes. Any reaction that was in the books, you were already serving it for him.

Nonetheless, it seemed like you weren’t compliant enough for the older man.

“So bad.” You opted to respond instead, finally giving in. “I need you, I want you. Please, sir.”

It was like music to his ears. Your delightful voice, flying through the room as if it were the sweetest melody. Not even the singing of an angel would achieve the reaction that you were pulling from Jungkook right now. Just listening to you beg for him, that’s all Jeon ever wanted.

“You are being so good and polite, baby.” He praised you. “I’ll give you what you need, but…” The dark haired man drifted off, pulling out a blindfold from the back of his jeans. “I’m afraid we’ll do it my way.”

Terrifying, as looking into the depths of a deserted forest, but it was sinful enough for you to crave it. It was exciting regardless of what the whole ordeal entailed. Therefore, when the tall man approached you, with a silky blindfold resting on his hands, you were ready to follow his orders with no objections.

In a matter of seconds you were deprived of Junkook’s hard features, leaving you with a view of pure darkness, and causing your body to start squirming and moving around due to the anticipation. It was difficult to find calmness in such a stressful moment, but you managed. However, Jeon decided to start toying with you, taking advantage of the fact that you were unaware of your surroundings. And so his fingers commenced a trip down the tender flesh of your neck, rapidly traveling down your collarbones and lightly gracing your nipples, only for later on to pinch both of your buds in a harsh manner, one that ripped a strained gasp out of your mouth.

A sardonic smile took place on his face, however, you couldn’t see it. His free hand traveled up to push your cheeks together, enjoying how plump your lips looked and not being able to resist the urge to bite them.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his teeth sinking in the flesh of your lips, along with the way his fingers were kneading every inch of your body.

“Relax and stay still.” Jeon ordered. “I know you’ll love this.”

His soothing voice was helping you to calm down, but it wasn’t enough. The sensations that were running through your body and the lack of proper touch left you in an unbearable agony. You craved to feel him closer, for his skin touching yours, for his breath mixing with yours while your bodies were intertwined in a passionate race to free both of your souls. What he was giving you wasn’t enough, but then again, when has it been?

A greedy little thing, that’s what Jungkook has always called you. And rightfully so, because you longed for him in ways no one else had done, and it scared him. Jeon was afraid you might be too attached to him, moreover, to your own idea of him. The way you would reach for his hand, almost as second nature, when you were out and about, or how your eyes always gravitated towards his figure whenever he stepped into a room. That terrified him. Because it meant you were addicted to him in the same way he was to you, and that could only mean trouble in the long run.

Tonight, however, was not about his fears and insecurities. Tonight was meant to be for you; to supply you with the utmost pleasure you were able to handle, and even if you couldn’t, Jungkook was willing to give you more than what you asked for. So rather than letting his mind wander to places he wasn’t fond of, the man decided to grant you what you were desperately looking for.

His slender fingers slid into your warm hole, filling you up as best as possible. Moving in ways that would haunt you forever, as a reminder that no one —not even yourself, will be able to touch you and treat you like he could.

“There you go…” He muttered, so close to your ear that made you shiver. “Is that enough for my little slut?”

His husky voice echoed through every corner of the room, pulling a light gasp out of you. It wasn’t strange for you to hear him say such lewd things or call you such unspeakable names, but every single time he did, it awakened a wild sensation within you.

Answering to his question you shook your head no, adamant to get more of him, and desperately wanting to be filled to the brim with something more than his fingers.

“More…” You begged. “Please, more.”

His fingers were avidly moving, pumping in and out of your velvety walls at a steady pace. His touch seemed to be enhanced and it felt much more than any other time. Whether it was because you couldn’t see nor could you touch anything, or because of his skillful movements, you couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, there was no complaint. It felt terribly good.

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

Your whiny voice was making Jungkook experience unspeakable things. He was eager to have you, eager to touch you, eager to have a taste of you. But more importantly, so desperate to fuck you. In the same way he awakened a wild side of you with his dark stare, you drove him absolutely crazy with the little noises you made. Furthermore, having you underneath him, moaning his name while squirming in pleasure, and feeling pure bliss due to how good he made you feel, was boosting his ego.

Jeon Jungkook was a man that always strived to be praised, even for the little and insignificant things. So to say he was thrilled and satisfied by the way you were chanting his name like a sinful prayer, along with how your body was responding insanely good to his touch, would be an enormous understatement.

He was on the verge of losing control and claiming you in such an animalistic way, that would leave anyone who happened to be near his room, concerned for your well-being.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look like this?” It was a question that didn’t need an answer.

Jungkook was entranced by the way you were reacting to his touch, watching your skin coated in goosebumps and how your legs would try to wrap around his waist to pull him closer, in need of him. It has always amazed him how innocent and clueless you looked and acted on the daily, yet somehow you knew what to do to make him act up, to drive him crazy. It was as if you were just pretending to know nothing just to tease him, just to make him never leave you, but deep down Jungkook knew you were sincere.

Your life has been tough, to say the least, and he knew you were in need of guidance, in need of someone to hold your hand and walk you through the crude stages of life. Jeon has never told you, but part of the reason why he took interest in you was due to his protective instinct. The older man knew you needed protection, from who or what? It wasn’t clear, but he instantly knew he was the right one to do it.

Oddly enough, there was no one better than the most dangerous man in South Korea to keep you safe.

But the way you would act so innocently drove him crazy.

Even when you tried to act confident, there was this sprinkle of hesitation every time you did something —indecisiveness striking again. And it was difficult to ignore it, moreover, it was difficult to hide it. The man could see right through your weak act, and spot your nervousness from miles away.

Even when you sucked him off in his office after a tiring meeting, he knew you were slightly scared to do such a thing.

Someone pretending to be clueless wouldn’t act as eager and clumsy as you did back then, although there has been some improvement since that time. Your teeth wouldn’t make an appearance anymore, you would use the right amount of saliva to make it messy but still look appealing for Jeon. The man loved how now you use more of your tongue to tease his tip and how far he could go into your throat. But none of that would’ve been attained without his help.

If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

It all goes back to the same predicament: you often showing your thankfulness for every little thing Jungkook has done for you.

He saved you, in the same way that a human would take an injured bird into their home to help it heal. Only for the person to cage it after the bird it’s back on its feet. Whereas Jeon Jungkook saved you from your previous way of living, he also owned you, preventing you from leaving his side.

Your broken moan snapped the dark haired man back into reality. His eyes were glazed with lust, looking right down on you and your tempting body.

“Are you close yet, doll?”

He knew you were. Jungkook could feel you clenching on his fingers, but he wanted to hear it from you.

“Yes, I’m so close.” You whined.

Your hands were moving so much, trying to break free from the tie that was preventing you from touching him. Jeon silently enjoyed it, he enjoyed how addicted to him you were, that it was a torture for you to not touch him in any way. You were so accustomed to feeling him, every single inch, that being restrained felt like pure hell.

“Please… More, faster…” You once again begged, and this time Jungkook couldn’t handle it.

Ignoring your protests, he pulled his fingers out, rapidly stripping off the rest of his clothes to position himself in between your legs. Because yes, he was on the verge of losing control before, but now his racional side flew out the window, and so he couldn’t wait a second longer to be wrapped in the warmth of your walls, ready to take him in.

“My sweet girl, don’t be impatient.” Jungkook cooed at you. “I’ll give you something better.”

Without further ado, he thrusted into you with a hard pump. It ripped a moan out of you, making you tug at the tie even more. You were beyond annoyed that you couldn’t touch him nor could you see his beautiful figure while he fucked you, although it enhanced the rest of your senses.

You could hear his little noises more clearly, feel his touch even better than you usually would, and taste him so much more in every kiss he gave you. It was truly a blessing and a curse.

“You’re so tight, Y/n.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, preventing himself from moving manically just yet.

Jeon could see the struggle in your face, the way you were clenching on his dick so hard that it was almost impossible for him to move. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, you would never get accustomed to his size. But in reality, the actual problem was that the man hasn’t done exactly that in a while.

Truth be told, there was a reason for your eagerness, for your desperation. For your ambition to have more of him. Jungkook has been neglecting you the past couple of days, perhaps not on purpose, but his line of work has required him to travel to the other side of the world for a whole week. And now that he was back you were ready to trap him in your limbs for as long as you could have him.

“I haven’t fucked you in a while that your pussy is already forgetting how my cock feels, huh?” He acknowledged the situation. “Maybe I’ll have to remind this tight cunt who owns it.”

Without a warning, he gave a hard thrust once again, bottoming out. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t forget how big his dick was or how good it felt. Many nights you fantasized about his fat cock pounding into you while the only thing you could use to pleasure yourself was your fingers. It was such a sad comparison, especially because it proved that what he once told you was completely true.

No one will be ever able to satisfy your carnal needs in the same way that he does. No one will be able to make you come undone with their touch. You could only daydream about Jungkook rocking into you hard and rough, during those lonely nights when the only thing you could use was your small fingers.

Luckily for you, now you have it, the real thing. Now you could feel the tip of his cock hitting every right spot the more the thrusted into you. His veiny member slamming over and over into your throbbing cunt, crying for more of him.

“So fucking greedy. My dirty slut can never get enough of me, huh?” Jungkook groaned, “Look at you, already a mess and I’ve barely done anything, sweetheart.”

It was such a true statement. Even if there was no way for you to look at yourself, you were sure of your disheveled appearance. Sweat was coating your skin, making your messy hair stick to your forehead and nape, your lips were now swollen and shiny due to the wet kisses Jeon has shared with you.

But it has always been like this. Jeon always knew what to do, what to say, how to touch you to turn you into a babbling and whiny mess, one who could only chant his name and ask for more, like the little ambitious and greedy girl you were. Regardless of the way you would sometimes demand more of his attention, more of his touch, he loved it. The tattooed man loved how ruined you looked at the end of your rendezvous, staring at your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. Jungkook was always fascinated by how fucked out you were once he was done with everything, it was his favorite look on you.

“You like this, don’t you? Being used like a fuck toy, not being able to do anything to fight me.” The older man let out a dark chuckle, while one of his hands crept up to wrap itself around your throat. “So defenseless and needy, letting me do anything to you.”

The more he talked the closer you got. You knew it was a matter of time for you to cum. And you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Jungkook kept rocking into you at a rapid and harsh pace, fucking your brains out while calling you names that he knew would pull a reaction out of you.

“My dumb baby, taking me so well.” He praised you. “You always know how to take my cock, willing to let me fuck this pretty pussy however I want.”

You could only nod, gasping for air and moving your hips to meet his thrusts as best as possible. It was like a race to see which one would finish first, although it was clear that the man ramming into you would not relent until you were crying and shaking underneath him.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He confessed, leaning down to kiss your soft lips.

His free hand traveled down in between your legs to place his skilled thumb over your clit. His movements were like a bucket of cold water poured over your burning skin. It calmed the building fire in between your legs, just as much as it fueled your already approaching orgasm.

“You feel so amazing around my dick.” Jeon hissed over your lips, hypnotized by the way his aching cock would get lost into your soaked cunt.

“Oh god…” You moaned. “Please don’t stop, I’m so fucking close.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” A promise, far from being empty.

It was clear that Jeon was getting close as well by the way he so desperately was pounding into you, moaning lowly and leaning down to bite your neck.

His lips and teeth were doing wonders on your skin, marking you up with his bites and sucking on your flesh as well. Jungkook was devouring you, tasting you, ruining you as he promised.

“Holy shit…” He said in a raspy voice. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? Only I can make you feel like this.”

“Yes, yes, yes…” You chanted back, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“Come on, tell me, pretty girl.” He requested. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You slurred your words out.

It only encouraged the man to fuck you harder, meaner, faster… Exactly how you liked it. Jungkook was aware of it, he knew you like the palm of his hand, and although it was concerning how much he knew about you, it also came in handy in moments like this.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook alerted you, snapping both of you from your wandering thoughts.

“Cum, inside me.” You croaked out, biting on your bottom lip.

It was a risky request, something that you might regret in the future, not only because you weren’t on any contraception, but it entailed being connected to him in such an intimate way, one that neither of you were ready for.

“Are you sure?” He asked with a soft tone, yet you could hear the agitation in his voice. “Are you okay with… oh fuck, with me cumming in you?”

“Yes, yes, please. Just do it, fill me up, please.” You struggled to say. “I need to feel your cum deep inside me.”

Jungkook felt like dying with the lewd words you were spewing.

You were drunk on the ecstasy of the whole experience. Not being able to look at your surroundings, being restrained, the way Jeon was pistoning into you, hitting spots that no one has ever been able to reach before; the sinful words spilling from his lips, his hand still wrapped around your neck, albeit more loosely now. Everything was clouding your mind and leaving you in such a lax state, that prevented you from forming any coherent thought.

Regardless, your consensual words were all he needed to let go, shooting his hot cum inside of your greedy pussy.

“Oh god…” Jungkook moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His orgasm triggered yours, throwing you over the edge in a matter of seconds, right after he came. Your whimpers were loud and high pitched, your body was burning and trembling, and you were sure the light makeup you were previously wearing was smudged by now.

You were panting, trying your best to calm your agitated breathing. Jungkook was still inside of you, with his face hidden in your neck, breathing as heavily as you were. Both still intertwined in a mess of sweaty limbs.

After a few minutes where both of you recovered from the intense orgasms you just had, Jeon finally pulled out, separating himself from you. His hands flew up to free yours, making you whine softly; he placed a soft kiss on both of your wrists, making sure the tie didn’t hurt you. The blindfold came off next, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the dim light after seeing pure darkness.

“How was it?”

A simple question, one that, in the ears of an oblivious listener, would mean nothing. An inquiry that held more significance and concern than a simple are you okay?; it was subtle but it spoke volumes the way Jeon Jungkook would still feel the need to protect you, even from himself.

He never voiced his worries properly, trying to play it cool but secretly concerned that he might have hurt you in any way. The man never learnt how to correctly communicate with others, but he would be damned if he didn’t express how much he cared for you in other ways.

“Amazing…” Was your response, albeit in a hoarse voice.

Your throat was slightly aggravated, feeling terribly dry after attempting to voice the pleasure and enjoyment from the experience, through the small space there was left from Jungkook’s hard grip on it. However, it didn’t stop you from answering his concerns.

Amazing, fascinating.

It was the only way to describe it, your mind was too foggy to think of a proper answer, but by the way he was smirking you could tell he was satisfied with your response.

“Good.” He nodded. “Don’t move, I’ll bring a towel to clean you up and a bottle of water.”

Before he could step out of the room your weak voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait…” You called for him.

If asked, then give; if given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

“Thank you.” A small whisper was all it took for the man to walk back at you, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Get some rest, I’ll be right back.”

You were left alone in the big room, spread out on the mattress while your mind was trying to comprehend all the events that just happened. Your heart was filled with questions, but you knew better than to ponder over those inquiries.

Jeon Jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you more than he should, and for that you will be forever grateful.

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[lxvebun]

A millennium of unsaid I love you's

Synopsis: love is the most twisted curse of all. Yuuji wonders if it's twisted enough to have even Sukuna in its grip.

Content: Sukuna x gender neutral reader. Fluff+little angst. Lovesick!sukuna, I repeat, Lovesick!Sukuna he's so in love with you it shows in everything he does!! Mentions of character death but its open for you to decide. Slight mention of canon violence. Around 1k words♡ eng is not my first language, lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡♡

"Have you ever been in love?" Yuuji wonders out loud, not necessarily expecting a serious answer. It's a little past midnight if he's reading the blurry red numbers on the digital clock correctly, and despite sleep clouding over his eyes, he can't seem to find rest. Blankets are carelessly kicked to the edge of the bed in an effort to relieve himself from the summer heat but it doesn't do much to help him ease into that sleepy state either.

(Talking to Sukuna seemed a lot more interesting than counting sheep)

The question hangs in the air for a moment, silence twists around it like a vine, and just before it completely swallows it up, the answer floats across his mind similar to a thought but eerily spoken in a different voice.

"Yes"

It's said quietly, almost as if trying to maintain the tranquility of the summer night, but this is Sukuna we're talking about. He doesn't take others into consideration. There's something else that keeps him from voicing his answers out loud.

(Perhaps it's the way he can't talk about you without sounding like a love-sick devotee)

"How!?" Yuuji blurts out before thinking, not realizing the question is rather rude until a sharp flash of pain surges through his body, a little corrective behavior sent from Sukuna, no doubt. "Sorry, sorry. I just didn't expect it, that's all.

It's quiet for a bit. Yuuji takes the time to admire the stars and moonlight shining through the sliver of the curtains. It feels like the moon is extra radiant tonight as it spills a wonderful illuminative light across the room. 

"I don't know"

There's not much he doesn't know, but to this day it's still a miracle to him that you weaved yourself so effortlessly into his very being. Managing to do so without an ounce of resistance from him. Partly believing you were some kind of heavenly punishment sent to bring the king of curses to his knees. To rid the world of a darkness that never should have existed in the first place.

(He'd let you)

"I just was"

There's another part of him that theorizes that maybe you were something that remained of his human self. A soulmate to complete his when his soul wasn't half as dark and twisted as it is now. Born from the same star, hearts carved from the same moon. A red string binds you to him, regardless of the form he takes. How cruel of fate to tie you to a monster and keep it that way.

Quietness tunes back in as Yuuji's thoughts drift elsewhere. For a second, Sukuna thinks he's done with his late-night interrogation.

"What were they like?"

He's not indulging Yuuji, really. But his heart beats back a little warmth into his soul every time he thinks of you. Every time he thinks of your voice, how his name sounded so syrupy and sweet falling from your lips, a stark contrast to how it's usually uttered.

Every time he thinks of your touch, how you always handled him with a gentleness he probably doesn't deserve. As if under all the scars and cursed markings he was made of the most delicate porcelain. Even when you were angry, it never bled violence into your touch.

Gods, your entire being shined so brightly he could pick you out from among the stars. You dug yourself into his chest, ripped out his darkened heart oh so deliciously, and buried yourself in its place. As if you always belonged there.

Just thinking of you stains his mouth all too sweetly, a millennium of unsaid I love you's building up in the back of his throat. He swallows it down.

"They were beautiful" he speaks aloud this time, voice booming around the room. Yuuji flinches a little at the intrusion "And that's enough of your questions tonight, brat"

"Just one more, please"

.....

Yuuji takes the silence as compliance.

"Are they gone?" He puts it into softer terms. Sukuna's a little annoyed at the consideration.

He doesn't know... and he's not sure what hurts more, being oblivious to your fate, or assuming that you have passed. Surely, Uraume would have taken care of you. Then again, are they even around still? A dullness grows in his chest, splinters its way through his ribs, and weighs down into his lungs suffocatingly so at the uneasiness of not knowing.

Looking through Yuuji's eyes, he catches a glint of a star beaming down into the split in the curtain. Shining an ethereal light so brightly he has to avert his gaze.

( he could pick you out amongst the stars. He refuses to believe it's you)

The ache lessens again as the starlight seems to clear his head. You're bound to him by a string of fate, there's not a single universe out there where you're not with him. Even if it's cruel of fate to do so, even if those thousand years apart have turned him into someone almost unrecognizable. You'll be together again. Perhaps your soul is just waiting for the right moment to appear.

"they'll be back" is all he says, and the finality in his tone urges Yuuji to keep his mouth shut despite the whirlwind of questions still racing through his mind. Memories that don't belong to him flicker through Yuujis's mind as Sukuna seems to dream off. They're blurry and foggy and disappear all too quickly for him to make sense of what he's seeing, but he can feel the overwhelming presence of love dripping from the edges. He doesn't question why his heart starts to race too.

Sukuna has been a rot in his side from day one. but if there ever exists an opportunity to save everyone, if he could give him his happy ending should you come back, he thinks he'll grant it to him.

Thank you for reading angels!!♡ i had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoyed this too!

[pejite]

Hi! Today, I’m sharing a list of mods that I consider essential for playing historical gameplay in The Sims.

I often have friends who want to dive into the Decades Challenge but aren’t sure which mods to use or where to start. So, in this post, I’m going to share the mods I personally use and think are indispensable for creating that authentic historical experience.

Deaderpool's MC Command Center: This mod allows you to manage and modify many aspects of your game, including handling pregnancies, university careers, and enabling teen relationships so your Sims can marry earlier, among other features. You can also enable autosave and adjust the length of a Sim day.

Lumpinou's RPO: This mod enhances relationship dynamics and expands pregnancy features. It's extensive, with many modules, and once you've tried it, you won't want to play without it.

Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth: Offers multiple realistic childbirth options, including natural bed births and spontaneous labour, adding depth to your Sims' family lives.

MizoreYukii's Arranged Marriages: Allows you to arrange marriages for convenience. Parents can agree on marriages for their children, but breaking the arrangement won’t be easy.

Necrodog's Carriages and Horses: Adds functional carriages, enhancing immersion. While it doesn't work with the horses of Horse Ranch pack, it’s still incredibly useful.

Kuttoe's Enlist in War: It will allow your Sims to enlist in the war. Whether they live or die will be random, but if they survive, they'll receive the Veteran trait, a lifetime pension and some lasting traumas.

JaneSimsten's Regency Romance: Perfect for simulating the Regency era. It adds class differences, property ownership, etiquette skills, new traits and careers, events, and widowhood. Though inspired by the Regency era, it works well for later decades too.

SimKatu's Reading Animation Override: Changes the reading animations, with different ones for men and women, making your Sims’ reading time more immersive.

Zero's Deadly Dickensian Sicknesses: Introduces the risk of diseases like Tuberculosis, Typhoid Fever, and Cholera. It’s incredibly realistic with its contagion system.

Adeepindigo's Healthcare Redux: A comprehensive health mod that adds various illnesses and treatments, including tuberculosis and (early access) cancer. While Sims can buy modern medicines, many illnesses can be cured with natural remedies.

Adeepindigo's Simulated Endings: This mod will enhance everything related to your Sims' deaths, allowing them to take out life insurance and designate beneficiaries, arrange funeral preparations, and introduce stages of grief for your Sims.

MizoreYukii's Functional Broom: Adds a functional broom with its own animation, letting you keep your Sims’ homes clean without resorting to modern vacuums.

Triplis's Quit or Join School: In case you need your teens or childs to quit school.

The Kalino's Farm Animal Set: Expands your farm with more animals, including goats, sheep, ducks and more, in addition to the standard cows and chickens.

JaneSimsten's Write With Quills: Replaces your Sims' pens with quills, adding a touch of historical accuracy.

JaneSimsten's Sidesaddle Override: Allows female Sims to ride horses sidesaddle, as they would have in the past.

JaneSimsten's Parchment Computer: Replaces modern computers with parchment and quills, complete with their own animations—perfect for pre-typewriter eras.

Frankk's Language Barriers: More realism to sims being from different worlds.

Rs4ella's 1920s Grade School Homework Override: Changes the look of the kids' homework book to a 1920s style, but it works well for earlier periods too.

Xbrilliantsims's Toddler Bathtime Overrides: Replaces modern bath toys and sponges with more era-appropriate items when bathing toddlers.

Lunamoth's Historical Infant Carriers: Swaps out modern baby carriers for fabric slings, suitable for any historical era.

Lunamoth's Rope Pet Leash: Replaces the modern pet leash with a simple rope, making it look more appropriate for historical gameplay.

300yearschallenge's Historical Baby Bath Override: Changes the baby bath seat to a more suitable design, or you can opt for

Sassymissollie's Invisible Infant Bath Seat to remove it entirely.

JaneSimsten's 5 Day Work Week: Choose Your Own Work Hours: Lets you adjust your Sims' work schedules for a more realistic experience.

JaneSimsten's Marksmanship Skill: Adds a marksmanship skill, allowing your Sims to practise shooting and hunting, with the hunted animals available for cooking.

Littlbowbub's Ye Olde Cookbook: Enables your Sims to cook historical dishes, perfect for low-income Sims in older settings.

Basemental's Basemental Drugs: Although mainly known for adding drugs, it’s commonly used for its smoking features, letting your Sims smoke cigarettes and cigars like a proper Victorian gentleman.

MizoreYukii's Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything: Allows your child Sims to die, useful if your storyline requires it.

Ayoshi's Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod: If phone elimination mods are causing issues, this mod might help. It replaces the mobile phone with a small notebook, which could pass for a mini Bible or an old-fashioned notebook.

JaneSimsten's Extra Cross-Stitch Patterns: Adds historically accurate cross-stitch patterns.

[sachermorte]

so the thing about english is that people think it's so divorced from other germanic languages based on like. words. I've even heard people try to insist that english is a romance language. because of that whole messy business in 1066 with out-of-wedlock willy and his band of naughty normans. and now a good chunk of the vocabulary is french or whatever and they're prestigious so not using them makes you sound like a rube and this and that and the other

and yes william the conqueror will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge on him. he fucked up a perfectly good germanic language is what he did. this will be me in hell

but the thing is that most words in, say, german do have a one to one english equivalent. not all hope is lost, for those who still dare to see it. it's just that you 1066pilled normancels aren't looking in the right place

dog (en) ≠ der Hund (de) but der Hund (de) -> hound (en)

look with your special eyes. that one was easier. not all of them are this intuitive because of semantic narrowing and broadening and waltzing and hokey-pokeying and whatever else. I'll give you a few more

animal (en) ≠ das Tier (de)

aha! you think. I've got him on the ropes now.

but then

das Tier (de) -> deer (en)

nooooo!! you whine and cry in gay baby jail. the consonants are different!!! listen to me. listen, I say, putting both my hands on your shoulder. /t/and /d/ are the same sound. you just put your voice behind one of them.

nooooooooo!! you wail. deer are animals but not all animals are deer!!! listen to me. LISTEN. they used to be. animals used to be deer. that's just what we called them. it was a long time ago. it was a weird time in all our lives. it's okay.

let's try for a verb this time

to die (en) ≠ sterben (de) but sterben (de) -> to starve

same principle with the consonants, we're just changing a stop (where we completely stop the airflow and then let it through) for a fricative (where we still let some air go through. idk where it's going. maybe to its job or something.)

to starve used to mean generally to die, not just to die of malnourishment. we do that a lot. we take one word for a lot of things and make it mean one thing. or take one word for one thing and make it mean a lot of things. this is common and normal.

"okay but roland," you say, suddenly coming up with an argument. "what about tree? trees are super common. I don't think we'd fuck around too much with that. the german word is baum! what about THAT?"

"when did you learn german?" I ask, but then decide it isn't relevant right at this very moment. but fine.

tree (en) ≠ der Baum (de) but der Baum (de) -> beam (en)

beam??? you ask incredulously. beam???? BEAM?????? you continue with the same tone and cadence of captain holt from brooklyn 99.

yes. beam. like the evil beams from my eye I'm going to hit you with if you don't stop shouting.

but the vowels!!! you howl.

listen. listen to me. the vowels mean nothing. absolutely nothing. they're fluid like water. it got raised in english.

"WHAT DOES RAISED MEAN"

it doesn't matter right now. they were raised better than you, at least. stop shouting. open your eyes and see what god has given you. they're the same word.

"they're NOT the same word. they mean different things!"

we've been over this. they didn't used to. a beam was (and is) a long solid piece of wood. much like the long solid piece of wood I showed your mother last night.

FAQ:

Q: could english be some kind of germanic-romance hybrid?

A: do you become a sexy thing from the black lagoon just because you dressed up as one for halloween? english may have gotten a lot of vocabulary from norman french, but its history and syntax are distinctly germanic. that's what we base these things on.

Q: okay but what does it matter? this doesn't actually affect my day to day life

A: you come into my house? you come into my house, the house of an autistic man living in vienna austria and studying english linguistics and you ask me what does it matter? sit back down. I was going to let you go but now I have powerpoints to show you

Q: you're stupid and wrong and gay and a bad person

A: I know it's you, Willy