#slow suicide costs too much

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.60)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, the word 'r*pe' is used to describe what Geumjae did to her but there are no graphic depictions of it, allusions to physical abuse, graphic violence, there is a brief moment where someone not in the pack touches the m/c's ass without her consent, blood, briefly implied suicidal actions- but it's nothing like what you haven't seen before.

W/c: 12.6k

A/n: i'll be attending my cousin's wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

You dab at the skin under your eyes carefully. You know they must look red and puffy. Tae’s careful instruction to treat your skin well as all good baby pups should has somehow stuck.

Even here. Even now.

“Do people like always loose it with you? Like when they walk in, do they all cry?”

Your therapist (yes, your therapist) across the narrow room is the opposite of threatening; soft face, pulled back hair, neutral clothing that might just as well be out of a country living catalog.

You don’t know where Jin found her, what little medical booklet he perused like a take-out menu, or how much her services cost per hour. Those kinds of details were not for delicate little pups like yourself to worry over in his opinion.

Most of the time, you're glad not to have to worry about things like this. But right now you're chomping at the bit. Weighting your odds. The other unknowns hover before you. One sticks out. One you're most concerned about.

Is she trustworthy?

Nothing about Dr. Rima seems outwardly threatening, yet you curl in on yourself. She smiles, scrawling something on the top of her notepad before she answers, and something taught in you ticks tighter.

“You’re correct in assuming that most people I meet cry in the first few minutes when they meet me, but you are the first person to cry on my threshold. Most of the time people wait until they’re at least in the chair.”

That has a smile tugging at your lips, albeit unwillingly. Your smile is like a leashed wild animal, with too many teeth when you feel threatened. Contained for now.

If you got up and walked out right now, would she call someone to restrain you? Will you be committed if you tell the truth? Or are you just misinterpreting the stakes?

You are here of your own volition. Even if it was a condition that Jin and Namjoon weren't willing to budge on after the events of last week. It's not like the pack is having you put in a mental institution or something, although they did come with you today. For moral support.

The waiting room was stuffy and yellow, one of those little waterfall mirrors in the corner that you’d watched in a fog sat between Yoongi and Jimin while Jin filled out the necessary paperwork. His pen hovering over the small boxes every few seconds. He'd taken the afternoon off of work to make sure he was there, just to fill out paperwork.

Are you on any medications? Do you have a history with substance abuse disorders? Do you have any intent to harm yourself or others?

Sending glares to anyone who dared to come too close, Jimin had looked and smelled threatening. You're not sure he’d have let you go into an isolated location with her if she’d been an alpha. Jin too had looked close to snapping.

yoongi was the only one who looked somewhat calm, althoug his hand was tightly laced with yours (and a little sweaty)

It’s a wonder that the rest of your pack had agreed to stay home for this. This was just one of several concessions you’d made after what the pack has politely begun referring to as 'sad pup time' during your more vulnerable moments, and blatantly 'your breakdown' during less fragile ones.

But sweet words or not. The facts remain; You are here in this chair after a nearly tearful departure.

You’d met the therapist in the doorway, shaking in your boots, and upon being separated from your pack with the promise that they’d be just downstairs in the lobby, you’d followed her inside.

Yoongi had made a noise in his throat, making you turn back. Dr.Rima turned to watch as he’d pulled you in for a last-minute hug, ducking down to your level. “One hour, okay? We’ll be just downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

His eyes were heavy-looking at the stranger. Unwilling to let you go just yet. A little stalwart, a little standoffish.

“Take good care of her please. She’s very precious to us.”

Precious.

That much was evident by the nearly three-page document that both your pack alpha and omega sent through once Namjoon and Jin had selected Dr. Rima as your therapist. Dr. Rima has quite a bit of experience dealing with overprotective pack alphas and pack omegas. Let alone a pack alpha and pack omega who have such a clinical background.

Yes, you must be well taken care of. At least on paper.

She’s already itching a little, to get her hands on all the others. Packmates and their names are written out, as a part of all intake files. Large packs aren't so common anymore. Her eyes fix on one name; Min Yoongi (beta, mate) unemployed.

The big windows help it feel not so small, on the second floor, the trees block out most of the view of the park below. A small voice that sounds like Hobi whispers that it’s a shame she doesn’t have any plants in here, they'd do so well with all of this natural light.

Your knees clack together a little, moving listlessly, the anxiety in your body begging to be released somewhere.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with why you wanted to come in today.”

You avoid her eye contact, looking instead at the tops of the trees, you don’t know why they haven’t changed color yet, all of the trees on your street are half bare already. She has a smooth inoffensive scent, but you’re mated to a beta so you know what to expect when it comes to the relaxing effects, the subtle haze at the edge of your vision. It must come in handy, having the biological upper hand, when it comes to patients in distress.

If therapists are rare, beta therapists must be even rarer.

You can practically hear Jin, “Nothing but the best for my pup.” There is a part of your brain that won’t ever turn off, appraising everything around you. The designer pumps that she wears. The knickknacks on her desks, there are no photos of any packs that she might call her own, just a pink calendar in the corner.

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too &lt;3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

The pack has kept you substantially plied with little solutions since your breakdown last week. They haven’t let you rot like usual. They’ve kept your days full of little activities; nothing too extravagant or tiring. Letting you rest when you need to and encouraging you to get outside of your comfort zone when it’s clear you’re giving in.

It comes down to that more often than not; giving in or not giving in.

Not giving in looks like trips back to the beach with Hobi. Like going to the salon with Tae and shopping with Jimin. Or another workout class with Jungkook where you’d spent more of the time lounging on the yoga mat than actually moving your body. But you'd still tenuously agreed to sign up for more classes under the encouragement of Wonho and Jungkook.

And now twice a week, you’ve got a mat to call your own during any classes, in the back, if you decide you want it. Your callender hasn't felt so full in years, it feels strange, to have something to do during the weeks that isn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing house chores. Strange in a good way.

Not all of the pack's solutions aren’t silly but sometimes, silly is a good way to push out the dark.

The morning after your breakdown; you'd watched your pack work, fighting back a flush. Sitting at the kitchen bar stool while Yoongi applied painter’s tape to the floor, not intent on keeping back paint this time, but marking it off for you.

You’re a little bit more determined this morning although your first night without nightmares in a little over a month had kept you in higher spirits. You feel more well-rested than you have in ages.

“You don’t need to- I promise- I’m not going-“ but your requests had fallen on deaf ears. Worry building until Jungkook stood up fast grinning up at you, pupils wide brown pools from getting scented stupid this morning.

(Scented stupid, you'd been scented by the pack too, had struggled a little against it, too shy as Namjoon dragged his throat along yours, squirming until yoongi held you down a little, checking with you each few seconds that you wanted that, that your squirming was really just needing to feel a firm touch, a dominant one.

You will go nowhere until your pack have had their right to you, scenting you up, making your scent gland tender and swollen under their teeths and tongues.

It felt so much better to be made to handle it, each of the pack, even hobi, hovering over you to scent you with their wrists and throats. until you smelled so claimed by them that you couldn't breathe without smelling it- Pack.

Jungkook had pouted until he'd gotten the same treatment, although the omegaspace haze had lasted longer on him than it had on you.

He stands up so fast that his hair fluffs. Catching himself on your leg with a giggle before he topples over. grinning up at you before pressing a sleepy sloppy kiss to your knee and then another to your lips,

“No pup zone!" Omega Space Jungkook can get a little bit ridiculous even at the best of times. He's got a case of the morning omegaspace zoomies as he giggles and nips at your nose. You playfully push at his chest. He doesn't budge.

"Your whole face is a no-pup zone." The dissatisfied pur-chirp he'd let out had sounded half hurt, half encouraged.

Namjoon had eased your discomfort. Pulling you from the stool to lean back against his chest, fingers drumming out a rhythm on your legs as Jungkook huffes into your throat.

Having this failsafe- this rule, does not mean that they think you’re going to fail, these are guard rails to keep you on track. Namjoon looks down at you, his full bottom lip tucked a little, not a pout but close. “This is the easiest solution, if you don’t go near it then maybe, maybe it helps.”

His fingers drum against your skin again, and you lean back into him. Uneasy but willing to let him soothe you.

So yes, you’ve been banned from the kitchen, banned from crossing that line that runs from the edge of the coffee stand and just in front of Tae's library room, to the island and over to the fridge. Unless there is someone else close by. You are not allowed here without supervision.

It’s a simple solution, limiting you from the place that you use to hurt yourself. Never mind the fact that there are dozens if not hundreds of other possible avenues you could use. Your creativity knows no bounds when it comes to pain, but you quiet that part of yourself when the desire for hurt gets loud.

You can’t say it hasn’t helped. But then again, the pack has kept you so busy since your breakdown that you haven't had any time to think of hurting yourself let alone put any plans into action.

Across from you, Dr. Rima waits expectantly.

"It was kind of triggered by this thing that happened."

The tip of her pen bobs a little as she writes. “Could you describe the event to me? Or is that something you're not ready to talk about?" You nod and she waits patiently. It takes you a breath to answer.

“A little less than a month ago one of my packmates and I found a dead body."

You feel a little vindicated at her inhale of breath. Wide eyes that say yes- that is something traumatic, yes, it's fair that it kinda triggered you into a more fragile state.

"It dredged up a lot of feelings about my past. Before that, I was kind of starting to feel s-safe which I haven't like, ever been able to feel."

“And your packmate?"

There is new treacherous wetness balancing on your waterline. “Hobi’s a lot stronger than me, his past and mine are really similar but he just- handles his better. A lot of the time it feels like I learn from him even though he’d tell you the opposite is true. He’s my best friend." Your voice goes quiet, "I love my mate more than I love anyone else, but sometimes- Hobi just- gets me you know?" You go a little misty-eyed. Hands tightening on Hobi's sweatshirt.

“Yet he’s not the one sitting in my chair right now.”

You close your eyes, "he's not."

“For what it’s worth- you can have more than one best friend.” Dr. Rima writes as quickly as she can, taking it down. “How long have you been romantically involved with him? Who came first, your mate or him?”

You jolt forward, “Oh no- we’re not- Hobi and I aren't-" You take a deep breath to clarify. "Everyone else in the pack is together but Hobi and I are just friends. We all have our like… little units?”

"Primary partners." Dr. Rima offers.

"Yeah, that." But even that doesn't really cover it, because while Jin and Namjoon are JinandNamjoon and Jimin and Tae are JiminandTae. Jungkook is everyone's problem (in the best of ways) and you and Tae are something else too. The pack's girls the rest of them would say.

(You and Hobi are, well, YouandHobi.)

It sounds weird to say it once it comes out of your mouth. It makes an odd choked feeling lodge in your throat. Too much hope and too much shame for hoping blooming in your chest.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about him.”

She folds her hands over her knees, setting her pen down. Dr. Rima has chubby hands, disproportionate to her body. They look like they'd be soft.

She reminds you of your mom a little bit.

“That’s okay, we can talk about whatever you want. What you want and need is going to be the focus of our sessions. You’re the pilot here. I’m just here to help you interpret your thoughts and feelings.”

She folds her hands over themselves, setting her pen aside, “Why don’t we talk about the last time you remember feeling safe.”

"Physically or mentally?"

"Either, you can choose."

The rest of the session passes frightfully quickly. You can’t say that you don’t cry again. When you finally talk about Geumjae, her smile quickly dissipates. You talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw. Until you’ve depleted the whole box of her tissues. She shows you she's got more hidden under her desk when you apologize, her secret stash gets a laugh out of you.

“The fact that your pack omega filled out your paperwork isn’t the most unusual, but his preference for daily meetings or every other day is a little bit on the nose for a pack omega, I’m wondering if you share his preference.”

“He’s just overprotective.” She eyes you like Jin has good reason to be. You don’t blush this time, a little more comfortable with Dr. Rima than you were at the beginning of this. “I think maybe more than once a week but not every day.”

“How does Monday- Friday sound?”

~-~

When you walk to the door with Dr. Rima Yoongi stands abruptly from his chair.

You can tell by the shiny edge to his to his scent that he doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. He gets the information about your next appointment and then tugs you out the door.

Jins got his legs crossed, fancy leather shoes glinting in the sunlight by the windows. The lobby is buzzing with people coming and going. This building isn't just a therapy office but a collection of other businesses with a few shops and restaurants on the ground floor as well. He looks up and double-takes when he spots you, not standing from his chair, but he opens his arms and you fold yourself along his side, conscious of the other eyes but this.

This you need.

You press your face along the column of Jin's neck, breathing his cream scent in deep.

“Oh pup.”

Your red-rimmed eyes are too obvious and you sniffle wetly, “It was okay, I like Dr. Rima.” He laces your hands together and resists the urge to pester you with questions. Yoongi's hand is still tangled in the hood of your (Hobi's) sweatshirt. Your therapy sessions should be yours and only yours. Yoongi and Jin do not have Dr. patient confidentiality.

And yet the need to know if that helped burns through them. They won't have to wonder for long.

By the coffee stand, Jimin waves and he returns to you when the barista hands over a bag of sweets and a quad of cups. Jin continues scrawling something out for another second before he’s standing and pulling you in for another chaste scent mark.

“Let’s go home.” It's somewhere between an order and a request. But no one disobeys.

On the drive back (37 minutes total) you're a little quiet. You let the sounds of the others be your buffer. You look down at your phone and stare at Hobi’s texts. You respond with just a little heart emoji when you finally still can’t figure out a good response and you're close to home.

Home is its usual conflagration of moving bits and pieces. Each of your packmates is like a shiny cog in a pretty clock, tick tick tick tocking along. Tae and Namjoon are at the table looking through some of the pack’s bills, the pastries and coffee cups litter the table with little piles of powdered sugar and cinnamon. jimin bought enough for the whole pack.

You look at them a little too long, although not because you don't want to eat them. It’s been a while, a few weeks since you’ve made something like that, but every single one of the pastries is something you know how to make. You don’t know why you keep looking at them.

Tae smiles at you, still in the doorway. and it makes you feel a little less like you want to burst into tears. Her voice speaks of the quiet time you have in the library (the tenderness of having someone else do your makeup, another person combing your hair). You hope you'll get some dedicated one-on-one time with her soon.

"Hey little lovely, How was it?"

"She put me through the wringer but I think she got some suds out."

She and Namjoon giggle and you smile small. and you can tell that Namjoon wants to ask you more but he doesn't after a pointed look from your mate. There are footsteps in the hall and before you can move to take off your shoes Hobi is standing in the archway.

Yoongi efficiently strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt with a frustrated huff. It's Kind of like he’s trying to peel away the sadness (your clothes are soaked with your sour scent, rainy and unhappy. Regardless of Jin’s scent mark, you kind of stink).

You might have overheard their words just before you got into the car. Jin's hissed admonishment. “A lot of people cry during therapy Minnie, she’s not in trouble, can’t you smell it?”

Your scent is mellow underneath the memory of your distress, going sweeter by the second. Yoongi wants all memories of your sad scent banished from the house. Hobi stands at the door to the hallway, shifting back and forth, his eyes a little warmer than usual, hands shaking a little bit.

You’ve caught him looking at you a lot since the night he ran away, in the quiet moments when he thinks you’re not noticing. Eyes a shade warmer than usual, a sweetened franticness to his scent. Nervousness and happiness mix like blueberries and whipped cream.

When he pulls up beside you during movie nights and sits thigh to thigh with you. When his hands intertwine with yours over his knee or sometimes or when he pulls your legs sideways across his lap. He looks at you like that when he's doing the small things and he's looking at you like that right now.

You know how love starts, that it starts with the small things.

Hobi resists the urge to open his arms. would you come to him? Would you fold your body along his front so that he could feel your heartbeat? Pressing again and again to the opposite side of his chest with every thump?

He doesn’t say hey, but he does step a little closer. Fingers reaching out. The pad of his index finger slides down the meat of your pinky till it reaches the ball of your wrist. His own special hello.

Your breath hitches, just barely, almost imperceptible if it wasn’t for how close he stands.

A look behind you says Yoongi hasn’t made himself scarce, instead fussing with the pack's coats. Now that it’s getting colder, they don’t all fit by the door. You look behind Hobi and find Namjoon watching the three of you, he raises a singular eyebrow.

“How was it? Bad?” Hobi asks, breaking the silence and the tension, drawing your attention back to him. The next breath you let out is a lot less heavy, and your eyelashes flutter as he steps closer. Hobi smells good, a little earthy, mellowing out his usual sweetness. Sweet for an alpha.

“It was kind of hard, I kinda wanted to run away for a bit at the beginning." You can't keep meeting his eyes with how intensely he's looking at you and they flutter down to his hands. "I almost did.”

"I'm glad you didn't pup." Jin comments, full of reproach, the mirror to you and Hobi as he leans down to press a kiss to Namjoon's forehead. Shucking off his lapelled jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“If you’d have called me, I’d have picked you up. We could still like- run away, if you're down.”

But the house is starting to heat up, and Jin and Yoongi are starting to cook. The light is still honey-yellow happy. And you tip your cheek into his arm. He finally- finally lets his arms settle around your waist.

“Nah, not yet.” You drag out the syllable all playful, and something forbidden stirs in Hobi’s gut. “Jin’s making my favorite tonight. not until later?”

Hobi goes silent, pulls back, biting his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes down. and-

You laugh and Hobi blushes. “Just spit it out.”

Everyone’s been a little bit touchier with you since that night (a little more overbearing too). You won’t immediately chalk Hobi's touchyness up to what you're all thinking. But the affection makes your scent gland feel tender. Zinging when Yoongi steps up behind you and nuzzles into it, huffing again.

Friends can hug each other after therapy right? Hobi swallows thickly and you feel it against your collar bone as he pulls back and steps away from you. “I ugh- got you a present?”

You brighten up instantly, and Hobi's anxiety increases tenfold. A bit of casual mischievousness on the edge of your lips that always have Hobi feeling like he’s being teased even though he knows he isn’t.

“Oh? A present? You’ve never gotten me a present before!”

He kicks at imaginary dust bunnies, fighting back what he knows is a noticeable flush. “I ugh- still owe you, from the car you know and honestly it's not even like a big gift it's like- so small in comparison and-”

Yoongi huffs and continues to disrobe you. Pulling your sweater over your head when he’s not satisfied that your unhappy scent has dissipated. Muttering something like. “hopeless alpha” under his breath. Your tank top pulls up, inches of your hip and skin on display. It's nothing that Hobi hasn't seen before and yet the blush reignites. The sunshine to your morning glory.

“I guess you're right.” But it doesn’t feel like it. Hobi doesn’t owe you anything for that, not when it was so easy to give. Not when you’ve gotten so many late-night drives from that gift.

Hoseok got the idea for your courting gift, one morning while watching you say goodbye to Namjoon:

The pack alpha has always been a fan of goodbye kisses, good morning, and goodnight kisses too. The particular kiss that morning had ‘I’ll miss you’ written all over it. It was so pretty in the way that you lingered, arms around Namjoon’s neck. His hand is underneath your shirt on the small of your back. Such a small touch and yet so gently possessive that it had Hobi aching to see it.

Hobi is unfortunately prone to jealousy and it turns the back of his neck hot. Makes his hands feel oddly tender. He's distracted by the visual, the task of packing up his work bag forgotten. Hoseok’s shift at the flower shop doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s waiting, watching, an unhappy voyeur.

You and Namjoon have quite the height difference, if he was in between the two of you he’d be the perfect middle ground. That’s just another stupid thought, another stupid thought in the countless number of stupid thoughts that he’s had. (I like my alphas a little pathetic, and nothing's more pathetic than an alpha pining after an omega.)

He grumbles.

Yoongi prattles on, more awake than all of them as he outlines what you have to do today to make progress on the house- which is to go find a place that sells cheaper tile than the ones you first thought of using in the bathroom on the first floor. And maybe change it up a little.

The bathrooms escaped the renovations somehow, and a few nights ago- Jimin had admitted how much they actually use it even though it’s not the pack's primary bathroom anymore. Now that it’s not in use, they’re more willing to part with it for a few days for some very necessary re-styling. it toes the line from vintage to old a little too hard. The yellow is a little…yellow.

Yoongi wants to go light and airy with the color scheme, like he did with the upstairs bathroom and it's seafoam and brown tones. But like with most of the house, your vote is for colorful. “How about a light blue-” Yoongi continues to argue while you kiss Namjoon a little senseless in the doorway, at least Namjoon seems properly dazed, chasing your lips when you pull apart.

“No- we don’t have a room that’s magenta yet!”

This starts the same argument as always; “We can’t make every room in this house pink for Tae.”

But goodbyes take precedence, and when you turn back and smile at Hobi he flushes, shy to be caught looking. He moves, stepping around you and Namjoon to put his water bottle into his bag when you shout, “Stop, Seokie!”

Seokie is a new nickname, one that Jin only uses in the quietest of moments that you've somehow adopted when you don't want to call him Hobi. Hobi always thought that if you’d use any other nickname with him- you’d use daisy (he might want you and yoongi to share that pet name). But he’s a good pup and stops what he’s doing. Every atom in his body every electron no longer circulates neutrons but circulates you instead. Pulled in by your gravity.

You’ve moved so suddenly that you’ve spilled a bit of your coffee onto the floor. Maybe kissing Namjoon has left you feeling a little dizzy too. Yoongi just sighs fondly and wipes it up. Jimin looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees.

“You’ve got a rainbow on your cheek.”

It’s a trick of the light, early morning sunshine refracted through the mottled window just right to cast a single rainbow on the wall and on Hobi when he steps in front of it.

You cup his cheek, finger skimming across where the rainbow sits.

"Pretty."

Hobi feels hot all over.

At Tae’s call of, “If I have to do my eyeliner one more time I’m going to scream!” You giggle and dart away from him. Going to tend to Tae with a soft reply of "I've got you baby."

Hoseok is left, blushing in the morning light. Staying still like you might come by and cup his cheek again, Like a flower staying still in the hope of pollination.

Hobi is left, wanting to scream and somehow demand you back, both would be fair. His plight isn't missed by his packmates, who lean in like a set of jackals, grinning ear to ear at hobi's flustered predicament.

She's going to send him into rut if she's not careful Jin thinks, but doesn't say. instead he teases, “You’ve got to leave in the next ten-minute Hobi.”

Only then does Hoseok move- released from his spell and finally losing the rainbow on his cheeks though they might as well have stayed with how happy and warm he feels. How absolutely incandescent the love is glowing in his chest. A full spectrum of feelings, longing for you to come back.

He almost trips over noodle, darting after you with his tail raised high, catching himself on the edge of the couch at the last second, one shoe on and one off, his water bottle falling and spilling in the process.

yoongi sighs, and stoops to wipe it up. Jimin giggles and pulls Hobi up by his hips, the alpha's fingers feel hot where they've touched him, scalding. “What’s wrong, omega got your tongue?” yoongi returns to his breakfast, throwing the wad of soggy paper towels into the trash.

Jungkook laughs, “It’s more like he wants an omega to have his tongue in her-“

“You guys are gross,” He pushes at Jimin’s shoulder finally moving right. Yoongi hides his smile in a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

Hobi doesn’t think about the rainbows again until his next afternoon shift. When the low angle of the autumn sun cuts through the windows and catches the suncatchers that they hang in the doorway of the flower shop and cast more rainbows- dozens of them really across him and the flower.

He remembers when you came to visit, how you'd lingered over them, looked at them a second longer than you looked at the plants.

It’s a bit of a kitschy display. Other polished stones and nick nacks sitting on the deep shelf along with some smaller potted plants. A little tray of rose-quartz stones falsely advertises themselves as ‘heat reducers.’

The colors start to blend, and the rainbows sway softly in the light, gentle and pretty. He snaps a photo and thinks about sending it to you, but doesn’t.

The store is blissfully empty of Hobi's coworkers when he selects three of them. It's quiet when he packages them in tissue paper, one with a huge pink stained-glass moon at the top, another with three tiers. Each of them is delicate and pretty in their own right. No one’s bought a single one of them in the last three months anyway. They'll hardly be missed. Hobi gives himself a fat employee discount.

Hobi is unfortunately bad at hiding things, especially when he's nervous. Luckily the pack alpha doesn’t have it in him to tease. Namjoon had in fact been only too encouraging and given him a pep talk just this morning about courting and courting presents.

“The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t like it- and then you just have to try again which you were already planning on doing anyway.” Namjoon is quite simply the best at courting. It doesn't matter which subgender; alphas, beta’s, and omegas have all fallen under his touch. At least Hoseok has the opportunity to learn from a professional. Somehow the thought that you'd compare him to namjoon doesn't cross his mind.

Hoseok isn’t good at the romantic gestures that courting necessitates. He’s more of the ‘there when you need him’ kind of lover. Ready to make the small changes to make his loved ones' lives more manageable. Ready with his car keys for adventures. Those parts are easy, this is out of his depth.

Especially when it comes to you. Even After the love confessions, (are confessions still confessions if they’re so internal?) Hobi feels mostly unmoored. About to shatter upon unknown shores.

God, crushes are so frustrating (in the best kind of way, the way that keeps you sighing and daydreaming, the kind of way that makes you look in the mirror a little longer).

Tae helped him half an hour before she started on the pack's paperwork. They'd spent an hour deciding which places were best to hang them to get the greatest number of rainbows. She had even fussed with his hair a little to make it lie right. Having him hop up on the couch so she could see Hobi's face from your angle.

Hobi wanted to make sure there were at least one or two rainbows when he shows you. But when he leads you to the sunroom, his hands over your eyes (the same position you found yourself in when Namjoon surprised you with the nesting pod) there are more of them than there were when he set them up, whole constellations swaying softly.

The suncatchers are pretty and twinkly sparkly in the golden hour light, and your lips part in a simple show of awe when Hobi tells you you can open your eyes. It's so bright, they send dozens of little rainbows across the walls and your nesting pod. Over the white couch and the fig in the corner.

It’s very very pretty. and when you turn back to look a thim, Hobi once again has a rainbow on his cheek.

Your eyes twinkle, but you don't say anything. you stay quiet for long enough that Hobi gets nervous. his anxiety makes him talk fast. “I hung them here- but you can put them wherever you want- in the kitchen or upstairs or I can get you more for any places you want to put them- or- or- ”

You just about tackle him, arms looping around his neck resting your weight in his arms that instinctively grip around your waist. Hobi teeters, unsteady with such a heavy heart, toppling both of you onto the couch as you cry. "I love it!"

You’re sprawled not lying across him but his hand goes out to support the way you cling and rub your face into his chest, a happy little chirp slipping past your lips.

The wild thing in Hobi’s chest settles, settles, and curls around you. Tight and protective like a vice. You pull back, and your smile is just as bright.

Hobi sags, and rests his neck back against the couch, "Good- thank fucking god- I was so fucking nervous-" You fiddle with the buttons on his flannel, it's one of Yoongi's. It seems fitting that you steal his clothes and he steals Yoongi's.

"What brought all this on?"

Hobi doesn't have a good answer, in the quiet with the rainbows, or at least an answer he's ready for. He doesn't say that this is a courting present, and he doesn't need to because instead of answering your question- he replies with one of his own.

“Wanna go for a drive later?” he asks, voice tremulous like he thinks you might refuse him. You’ve never said no to him before, never said not tonight only not right now. Do you treasure our little talks the same way I do?

“Sure, after dinner? like I said? Just-" You lean back against his chest, and Hobi’s hands go tight tight tight around your waist. Holding you close. Clingy. He does not slip his hand under your shirt to cup the side of your hip the way that Namjoon might, but the thought crosses his mind.

Hobi is a good alpha, he won't cross that line until you tell him it's okay. Until then a thin layer of fabric separates his skin from yours. You're still warm to the couch.

“Sit and watch them with me?” You ask quietly. Almost shy, like you think he’d refuse you. He nods and the two of you sit on the couch to look at the rainbows together.

Eventually, Noodle finds the two of you, meowing and hopping up to stretch out along your thighs. Worming his way between the two of you.

The rainbows don't last forever, but Hobi sits with you until they fade.

~-~

Tae’s library is just like every public library:

Tall windows, wide quiet shelves with room for the stories to breathe. A colorful young adult section and an even more colorful kid’s section. A bit aways from the tables and computers so that any over-excited pups don’t disturb the adults. Big deep beanbags for small children to cuddle up to while they ponder fairy tales and adventures only a plastic-covered book away.

Tae’s long plaid skirt barely makes a whisper along the ground. The colder weather has allowed her to live all of her cottage core fantasies, her dark academia aesthetic truly flourishing. Her shirt is a little translucent today, and the fading summer tan of her skin pokes through it in spots where her tank top doesn't hide. Pretty long earrings dangle and clink in the quiet while she works on her shelving.

Wearing her chosen clothing items at work has been a bit of a work in progress.

Most of Tae’s coworkers approve of her transition in that overly willing-to-be-an-ally way that middle-aged women who generally consider themselves progressive outside of closed doors all do. And the ones that don’t approve have swallowed their words with lingering sour eyes and raised upper lips after the general receptiveness to Tae’s social transition.

It's hard to know who's genuine with it, who just doesn't want to cause a fuss, and who just doesn't give a shit. But most of the time her outfits get one or two compliments and thats it. Tae would rather them say nothing than anything negitive.

Tae likes the quiet of the library at this time of day, the silence gives her enough room to let her imagination wander. Tae likes to file away books in mid-morning, when there are fewer people around and her humming is less likely to disturb any of the library’s patrons. She sings to the stories and they sing back, tempting her with every well-worded title and delicately chaste summary.

But she doesn’t just think about stories or the book she's writing (her book is currently giving her hell on the 30th chapter) No. Today- there is a much more interesting love story blooming in her head, in the pack's den too.

She’s been thinking about you all morning (Tae thinks about you almost every morning) there are even little poems scrawled on the edge of her newspaper. Lines that are you and a bit of Hobi too.

I wished that I might be your hair clip / to know what it feels like / to be pressed against the nape of your neck/ To be your suntan/ perched on the edge/ of what you show everyone and what you show no one/ To be the bearer of every freckle/ like the sky holds the stars/ To hold and never let go/ Like birds hold sunshine / and flowers hold songs.

Everyone had noticed of course, how much time you and Hobi have been spending together.

The pack had even talked about it during a quiet moment without you and Hobi. Yoongi’s lack of communication regarding you and Hobi. “I don’t know anything” he’d unsuccessfully lied, and nearly been heaved up and wrestled to the couch as a result. But Jungkook’s puppy eyes had unsuccessfully endeared him.

Yoongi has kept Hobi's secret, but it's kind of hard not to notice. Tae isn't a fool. Tae is a much better liar than Yoongi is- because when you'd come to her after your late-night drive to gush with her about Hobi and the rainbows over makeup. She hadn't said anything about what she knows.

Tae couldn’t tell you how many times she’d noticed little touches, Hobi’s hand lingering on the small of your back, grabbing your waist when he moved behind you in the bathroom. When he take the greatest care to set out his sweatshirts in the morning and even asks Jungkook to make sure they’re clean. They’re practically not even his sweatshirts anymore with the amount you’ve been wearing them.

Tae isn’t an idiot, she knows that Hobi’s finally realized it. While she doesn’t trust herself to play matchmaker given how poorly the first time she pointed out Hobi’s attraction went. that doesn’t mean she’s not going to park herself firmly on the edge of her fantasy land with a box of popcorn.

If they were gonna get married, would Hobi wear a red tux or black or grey? Her brain is already thinking of wedding dresses. One of these days she’s really going to have to make a Pinterest board. Hobi would probably want to do sunflowers, and that might clash with the red unless it was a fall wedding- ooh, and what about pearl details and daisies? a beach wedding might be a little too on the nose for you.

Tae is so absorbed with her shelving and her daydreaming that she doesn’t notice the sound of small shoes on the carpeted floor. Nor does she notice the light-up flash of tiny iorn man sneakers. Her musings are easily interrupted by a small tug on her skirt, shy almost. She startles a little, looking down at the sudden touch.

The little pup's thumb is wet from where it was clearly placed behind their bucked teeth. He's got wide brown eyes and soft-looking hair, Tae can't stop the smile that comes to her lips.

“I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t reach, can you help me? Please?”

Tae’s heart swells as she leans down to the pup's level. “Of course, I can! Why don’t you show me what one you wanted,” diligently Tae follows the little one a few isles over, tugged along by their insistent pulling as he tells her about the pretty cover.

The little pup turns back, furrowing his bushy brows up at Tae, “are you a princess?” he asks. Tae almost has to laugh, a bright happy gender euphoric feeling filling her chest, that feeling of I could be filling her.

She makes her whisper just a little more hushed, playing along, “Don’t tell anyone okay? It's a secret.” The little pup nods, eyes darting around like there are dragons that would threaten her.

“What gave me away?”

“Princesses wear long skirts!” the pup says cheerfully, like it makes the most sense in the world. He's a little too loud and Tae winces. He finally finds the shelve with the story. The spine glimmers pink and gold and Tae is unsurprised to find the illustrated copy of Cinderella. Not the Disney or PJ version, but the Brothers Grimm version.

Tae cringes at the pair of doves on the cover.

Tae doesn’t say that the little pup is too small to read a book so big, or that there is one with more pictures much more appropriate away from the young adult section. The child can’t be more than 6 years old.

But still, Tae retrieves it and delivers it to their waiting arms. The little one clutches it to his chest, thanks Tae, and then promptly plops themselves onto the carpeted floor right there.

He opens the first page, huffs, and then looks up at her imploringly.

“I just realized I can’t read.”

He pouts and Tae melts. Tae wonders where the pup's mother is, but really, there certainly can't be much harm in this. This isn't the first time Tae has been guilted into reading a story to a pup while their parents work or make use of the library's computers.

"Just the first page.” She intones, caution for the child’s hopes in her voice, she presses her skirt under her knees and sits on the scratchy carpet. The pup curls close to see the pictures. Resting his tiny chubby cheek in the billow of Tae’s big puffy sleeve.

Tae's chest is all tight as she reads. The pup is very well-behaved, he pauses, and asks questions in a soft voice only when Tae gives him space to respond. Tae easily ommits the parts that aren't appropriate. but tae finds herself watching the pup a little bit more as the minutes stretch.

In a few years with your own little ones around, will Tae become the defacto bedtime story reader? Will she do this with the pack's pups one day? Will she be the one to take that bright little light in their eyes that imagines things as greater and more and cultivate it? Her cheeks feel warm at the prospect, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in excitement.

Your pups and Jin's pups too- they're gonna be so loved. Tae's gonna be the best mom to them, The best alpha too.

One page turns into two and then three. In this quiet corner with only Tae’s voice as ruler and god, the little pup hinges on every word. Until there’s another voice close by. An adult not wishing to be loud, a whispered name.

“Jae?”

Tae smiles up at the woman at the end of the aisle of books. Her smile turns sweeter when Jae hops up and runs to press his face into her jeaned thighs. Tae remembers how that felt, how every scent besides Tae’s own omega mother felt overwhelming and icky.

Tae stands with a crack of her knees and makes to hand over the book, “This makes a great bedtime story until about chapter 8, that one you might want to skip until he’s a little older.”

The woman makes to smile, but it only goes so far. Tae watches in perfect detail, everything in slow motion, as her eyes flicker down to Tae’s Addams apple.

She drags her child close by their wrist quicker than Tae can blink. Tae sees the moment that the child realizes this touch isn’t gentle, wide eyes going fear-stricken as he's tugged behind her back. And then it's all downhill from there.

I'll spare you the more vile bits.

But the saddest moment of the argument that follows (Which involves not one but three of Tae's co-workers to calm down the hysterical woman whose screeches echo around the quiet library) is when the pup tries to get his mother's attention. "Mom, I liked that she was reading to me."

"He" the certified Karen hisses, moving in a way that makes the pup flinch back. "-should know better than to corrupt a pup with such- such-" her eyes dart down and up, and Tae's skin burns. "Disgusting behavior."

The misgendering doesn't even sting. What does hurt is the eyes peering in. She isn't being quiet and it's causing many of the library's patrons' attention is diverted. Tae's coworkers have put themselves between Tae and the woman. But there still aren't enough people (enough packmates) in between her and the verbal tirade.

An hour later, after the woman has left after threatening to call the police, Tae talks with his boss and his boss’s boss. The room behind the front desk is glass, and he knows that the door doesn’t keep the sound of their raised voice out.

“I wasn’t harassing her child; I was just helping him find a book for Christ sake!”

The worst part is that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. No- since Tae came out there have been two other complaints leveled against her from bigoted patrons. Both right at the beginning before she got the hang of presenting how she wanted to.

At least those confrontations weren’t face-to-face. At least those complaints didn’t end with someone threatening to call the police and a pup cowering, tugged along too roughly out the door.

The little pup had glanced back at Tae, mouth in pout, eyes swimming with tears.

Even if the woman felt righteous in her anger, the least she could have done was not yell in front of the pup. Tae promises herself right then and there, that she'll never raise her voice in front of the pack's pups, not in anger.

The book has stayed on the counter at the front. Pink and gold and treacherous. Tae hopes that if anything, the pup finds it and reads the ending one day. Stories have a way of finding us, even when the world makes us let them go.

Now in the back room behind the check-out counter. Tae’s boss levels her with an expectant look, the kind that people give when they don’t want to be transphobic not really- it’s just so hard for them not to, so learned. Tae is the nail that sticks up. It’s bullshit really. Tae can tell it's bullshit before she opens her mouth.

“Really? He asked for Cinderella?”

“Yes.” Tae’s biting tone is an alpha’s tone, not a man’s, and yet she knows how it sounds.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying.” Is Tae supposed to only help some children find the books they want? Is she supposed to look at them and make her best guess if they’ve got homophobic parents and skip them over? It’s not her fault that the sweet sweet pup’s parent was a bigot.

“I can’t help but feel like- you’ve got a personal agenda-“

"Charlie-" the district manager cautions.

Tae can’t stop herself from snapping, alpha anger sparking with the intent to burn. “Little boys should be allowed to read Cinderella if they want to” Rats and all. Her hands are shaking, and it isn’t missed by them. The room smells thick with Tae’s spicy cinnamon anger.

The district manager sets her hand on Tae's shoulder, and her anger ebbs just a little. “I think maybe you should go home a little early today, just to cool off. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Tae doesn’t want to go home early, Tae doesn’t want to go home at all as she packs up her books. Her bag lighter than usual, absent of the stories that she wants to take home. For once there aren’t any that she wants to read.

She walks to the train station because Jimin won’t be off work for another 2 hours and that’s when he’d usually pick her up, the last three days he’s gotten her flowers too; white roses the first day, pink the second, and red the third. She sends him a text.

Tae <3 (1:48): I left work early today, you don’t have to pick me up, I’ll get an Uber home.

Mini-alpha (1:49):!!!!!

Mini-alpha (1:49): What happened? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can leave now.

Tae sighs, looking down at her phone while she waits for the crosswalk light to come on. Red still, green in a few seconds, she only has to wait. She can practically feel Jimin's nervous energy through the phone. it's a wonder he doesn't immediately call her.

It makes her soft. It isn't in Jimin's nature to give any of his lovers any space but he always makes an effort when it comes to her.

Tae <3 (1:53): No. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you when you get home.

Tae doesn’t want to talk to Jimin about transphobia again. At least not yet. It’s too much energy. It’s not that Tae doesn’t want to make what happened during Namjoon’s rut better. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it- it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about, the explanation of his actions are such a burden for Tae to bear. And Tae trusts that Jimin’s heart is in the right place even if he makes mistakes. And even telling Jimin off, yelling at him, wouldn’t change it.

Either one day Tae will not have to deal with bigoted parents, either one day she’ll pass and won’t have to worry, or she'll always be in this awkward middle ground.

Trans people are like toupees, you only notice them when there’s something off, something a little misplaced about them. Tae fears that most of all. Femininity, as much as she wants it, as much as it's hers to take, what if it won't ever fit right? What if she never passes?

Tae loves her job at the library, it’s the perfect mix of boring and safe and easy even if it doesn’t pay enough. But even as she's gained things like skirts and puffy sleeves, she's exchanged them for days like today. Really, the library was her favorite place before today and now, every step away from it makes her feel a little lighter. She's not even angry anymore, just exhausted mentally.

Tae decides to walk home at least she’s in her most conservative channel flats, they could use a little bit more wear and love and Tae’s thoughts are still too sharp. She dulls them to a palatable edge that all falls apart when she gets home.

You’re there, thank fucking god you’re always there when she gets home. You’ll always be Tae’s comfort person.

Tae opens the door with a creek and push of cold air, you're saying something to Yoongi turning with a toss of your hair, eyes brightening when you see her before you've even said her name.

You look a little healthier today, with a little bit more of a rosy glow to your cheeks and a healthy brightness to your eyes, not all glassy.

"Tae! You're home early!"

Tae will never stop being proud of how hard you try, and will never stop being a bit envious either because Tae-

Tae looks at you and wilts, bag flopping onto the floor, and predictably burst into tears.

"Oh- oh Tae."

"Baby girl-"

You and Yoongi are just about the best security blanket a packmate could ask for. You're so good as you pull her down to your level so you can kiss away her tears, maneuvering her like a perfect team onto the couch. Yoongi's strong hands slide off her shoes. Yoongi's fingers digging into her sore heel as you kiss away her every tear.

A substantial amount of babying and a Sos packmate in distress text later, and Tae is reclining across a freshly fluffed nest, the muscles in her body relaxed. The blisters on the back of her feet are bandaged and kissed. Every inch of her body is too.

You don't talk about it until after the pack's facemasks are finished, and hobi's clear coat has dried over the tiny nail sticker that you left. a small bumblebee.

Your skin smells sweet after a long long bath full of fancy bath bombs. Jinnie had also rubbed oil onto her freshly shaven legs. You helped, dragging it along oh so carefully to not nick her skin. Ending each pass with a kiss to her ankle and then upper thigh.

Tae’s head is in your lap now, cheek pressed against your (slightly chubbier) thighs. Her sniffles the background music as Tae gives her final recap of what happened.

Your nose gets a wrinkle in it when you go cross. "There's so much meanness to the world, I hate how people have to add to it."

Jimin’s anger leaves an undercurrent in the air, dragging the other alphas along, Hobi’s hands are strong where they dig into Tae’s shoulders, belly down in the nest while you play with her hair, braiding it back and forth. The attention makes her feel a little tingly.

“Do you know what her name was? Did you get a look at her car-“ Jimin asks, nearly barking. The library has cameras. Jimin knows it does.

Jin sets a hand on the back of his neck, a scruff threatening. “Down pup. Tae doesn’t need you to track them down.” Jimin’s teeth look particularly sharp in the light. For a face so soft he has quite the mouth on him.

“They made her sad,” he growls, but it's softer, more pointed as he crouches over her.

Namjoon’s quiet voice unlocks the whole world's worries, massaging gently down the column of Tae’s delicate neck, rough hands, worn tender touching her regardless. Namjoon is rarely ever so pointed, but it's logical, from an alpha's perspective, Tae knows what he hints.

"I think that if your bosses aren't going to protect you from people like that, then I want you to leave your job." Jin gives him a look like, 'Now you know where I'm coming from' but Tae's the important packmate right now.

Tae rolls Namjoon's words around her tongue, her hand loosely twined with his. Namjoon has the steadiest hands out of everyone in the pack and a few minutes ago he repurposed his surgery skills to do her nails. Took off the chipped red and re-did them because Namjoon knows she feels best when her claws are polished. He checks them now. Tapping them lightly to not smudge them.

It's a girl's night, the first girl's night you've ever had with the whole pack. Tae's face is still glossy from the face mask.

“I don’t think I want to quit; I don’t think that would help at all that’s not going to like- solve the world and all its issues.”

“No, but- if it’s making you more sad than happy. Then maybe it’s worth considering.”

Tae knows Namjoon’s not saying that she doesn’t make enough to affect the pack's finances, but that's still the truth. Hobi pulls himself along her other side and you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hobi presses a kiss to Tae's temple, “All you want to do is write every day anyways, and we just want you to be happy,” 6 heads nod their agreement.

Hobi isn't wrong; The last four weekends in a row Tae has woken up several hours earlier than the pack would usually stir from morning cuddles, just to get a few hours of uninterrupted writing done. She’s also spent nearly every night in her library room, staying up late after the pack has retired upstairs until one of you comes down and wrangles her upstairs. The pack's prettiest alpha needs her beauty sleep.

But is it enough to count on? Is it worth quitting her job over?

You duck down low, kissing the same spot Hobi did, your lips touching just a Tae away. a heavy breath wooshes out of her chest. "Yeah why wouldn't we want you to quit? If you're always here then I can always do this."

Your kiss is gentle, and it tastes like belonging more than Tae would ever be able to write, to describe. A love that makes you feel like you belong is a rare thing. And Tae's hand goes up to tangle in your hair, keeping you there for just a shared breath longer.

The next breath tastes a bit like freedom. It's scary to be free.

(But Tae leaves her 2 weeks' notice on her boss’s desk before the end of the next work day, and she doesn't feel bad about it one bit).

~-~

(1 year prior)

Maybe the truth is that the reason why you don’t feel you deserve agency is because you know what your agency looks like. The choices you’re willing to make when it comes down to it.

The secrets you tell and the lies you have buried deep in your pocket like one of Hobi’s found things. Something you can’t get rid of and cast back into the ocean. No matter how hard you try. There is something about murder that sticks, that stays no matter how many times you try to wash your hands of it.

It's not guilt, because you don't feel guilty for what you had to do.

Being backed into a corner can make someone do a whole hell of alot of monstrous things. And back then Life was monotonous. Back then there was Anguish without change.

Your life went like this: Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Meet up with Hyejin. Make poison. Make pastries. Go to the Don’s house. Feed it to them. Listen to Moonbyul tell you to wait. Go home. Get beaten again and again. Get raped every night. On and on and on.

Clean up your blood from the tiles. Clean it from the carpet. Hydrogen peroxide and not bleach. Cover the bruises up with color corrector first before you put concealer over them.

Smile and tell everyone that your husband and you are perfectly happy. There will be a pup on the way soon enough, I'm so lucky to have someone who supports me, and I'm so lucky to have a love like this.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Go to sleep and don't cry because then he'll beat you for keeping him awake.

In the darkness that curls around you. Blood going tacky between your legs, you start to dream of wicked sweet things.

What you've been through would be enough to make anyone go crazy, Enough to make anyone consider drastic action. Enough to make anyone consider murder.

Enough for you to slide a pair of small syringes off of Moonbyul’s night desk and a small packet of arsenic too. You know how to make a simple syrup. You know how to mix in arsenic to it, how to make it liquid soluble without breathing it in.

You make it in the fine china and break it after so that you can throw it out without worrying. You get a beating for it but you hardly feel it when Geumjae drags you across the floor by your hair. It hardly breaks your heart when he steps on your ribcage with the intent to break bones because you know what you have to do.

After, with your own blood on your teeth, you make sure to leave it in the bottom of the trash, and ask the cleaning staff not to take it out yet. They're supposed to find it.

You don't care if you die, you just want to make sure the necessary villains are punished. When it comes to blame the person who is most to blame is you anyway. You are simply numb to pain, numb to your own anguish. Numb to the idea of your own death too. Geumjae's already killed you in every way that matters.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite; give a girl an enemy and she'll do dangerous things.

Your meetings with the Don and beta always go the same; gossip, and greetings. Sometimes when you come bearing bruises, they tell you to wait just a little longer.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Just give it time for his temper to settle. Once you're mated it will get better.

Even Moonbyul and Hyejin tell you that planning the perfect crime takes time. That you'll be saved if you only wait. Help is coming.

Bullshit.

You’re tired of waiting for him to kill you, you're tired of waiting to die. You're smarter than all of them because you know exactly how to get everything you want and you're willing to do anything to get it.

The next time Moonbyul and Hyejin take you to the Don and Beta’s house under the guise of afternoon tea, you are prepared for war and dressed with revenge in mind. Your white dress knotted at the shoulders falling in a heavenly sheet, like an avenging angel, neither pious nor sinful.

You are a force of nature and nature does not ask when it takes lives.

What’s worse; the people that enable the abusers or the abusers themselves? Who is more to blame for the pain caused?

You are no longer hiding and you won't let them hide this time. The bruise on your cheek is purple and mottled, the rings of bruises on your wrists from his hands while he held you down.

When you smiled at Geumjae over breakfast this morning, there was only one thought in your mind.

You’re next.

Your agency looks like this; elegantly done hair your skirt a little short for fall. A basket of arsenic-backed goods in a basket as is usual. Fluffy pink cupcakes with the perfect Swiss meringue buttercream in little spirals.

A gentle smile at the beta when she opens her doors for you, letting the monster in, because you’ve been over enough times that she trusts you. You suppose that's your doing too, you've fooled her into thinking you're just another idiot girl who decided to marry rich and didn't bother to consider the strings attached. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you bare your teeth when you smile.

Hyejin has helped on that front; over the past few months, she has taught you exactly the kind of conversation that the beta likes- the useless conversations about family drama, the small little bits that you let through about your husband’s opinion on which pup is marrying whom, which alpha is good or bad for the packs near dozen omega pups that aren’t mated yet. Which alphas are likely to be a liability? This kind of gossip is all information and strategy.

You might have lied in your call to her and told her you were fearful of one of the younger ones- and a conversation you’d happened to witness on a street corner, a shadowy figure that looked a little too severe not to be the authorities. Of course, these kinds of things have to be handled with discretion and ginseng tea.

The Don does not bother to turn down the TV when you walk in, sitting vulnerable in his recliner with his feet up. It doesn’t appear that he has any sort of inclination or plans to interact with you when you sit here at his kitchen table and talk. Instead, he lounges and watches his sports, loud because his hearing is so bad, nearly deafening.

It’s good. hopefully anyone nearby will not overhear.

You hope that if this goes south before you have a chance to confess that they find the letter you wrote at home; the one that says your husband is the one that put you up to this.

You know that the pack’s retribution will be swift, that any sort of alibi he has will be null and void with the evidence you’ve been leaving. A little trail of breadcrumbs that leads right into a pretty little grave for your husband. Even if you won't be around to see it.

You're already a friend of pain. You already find comfort in it. If they kill you (which they will) then at least it will finally be over.

You wait until the moment you know is coming, when the Don looks over his shoulder at you and comands “Be a dear and bring me one.”

You put one of your artfully created confections on a pretty gold-rimed plate and walk to his side, you lean over to put it in his lap as he indicates. the same way he does every time you come over with sweets.

The lingering hand on your ass is hardly abnormal. behind you the beta's tea cup clinks as she sets her tea down and says nothing. even though you know she notices.

He’s so busy coping a feel he doesn’t notice your other hand, going to the syringe duck taped to your thigh.

It happens quicker than the Don can blink. The most powerful man in the underworld can't be bothered to protect his life for a pretty little piece of ass. You smile down at him, and his hand squeezes the round apple of your behind.

His hand is still on your ass when you whip your arm around with as much force as you can and drive the syringe and plunger into his neck.

You must have hit something in his neck because he barely has a second to splutter before he’s going still and quiet. Mouth falling horrifyingly slack. His breath rattles and his eyes dart as his whole body is paralyzed near instantly, in the time it takes for his blood to circulate.

Two paces, swing, plunge.

The beta barely has a second to scream or stand to attack you. You are so much younger than they are. Your body might be fragile and frail but It’s still stronger than hers. Her brief scream is easily drowned out by the scratch of the TV.

She ends up on the floor, the icing on the cupcakes sticky as she falls into half of them, tossed onto the floor by your brief tussle as you straddle her struggling form. Her pushing gets weaker and weaker and she sobs.

It doesn’t surprise you when you see the black tracery of a dying mating mark itching up her skin.

One thing that the family had always been oh so careful of was to talk only in their mother tongue around you. Secrets are best kept when they’re spoken in foreign tongues. It was a way to isolate you. To make them speak English for you to understand felt like a beholden request. At one point It was a point of insecurity for you, always left out of the loop, always relying on your husband to keep you in the know.

You bend over her as her pushing gets weaker and weaker, the arsenic doing its job, causing numbness and the tingling of extremities before it causes paralysis and then coma and death. Your hair falls in a sheet over the beta’s face.

You’ve studied much over the last few months. Enough that you lean in close over her and speak your words in perfect Korean.

“You look so angry,” you croon softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Spittle froths at her mouth as she breathes heavily. “You shouldn’t- if you want someone to blame you only need to look in the mirror.”

You lean in close until your lips brush her ear, “it's your fault you see- you're the one who lied" you mimic her voice, making it scratchy, "'just wait a little longer, it will be better for the family if you stay quiet." you laugh, "as if that where true, the only person it benefits is you. You where ready to let him hurt me and kill me if i just stayed quiet."

You wipe away a bit of spit from her lower lip, "You always told me how it was your duty to protect the family- but you only serve yourself. If you'd have done something, if you'd have helped me I wouldn't have had to do this. You just wanted me to shut up and die quietly.”

You switch back to English, “Well now it’s your turn.”

You watch her tongue go numb, paralyzed, but the poison hasn’t advanced far enough for her not to speak.

“Fucking- worthless bitch.”

You laugh and stand brushing some crumbs from your skirt. She’s already too weak to move, to shout, or fight you. You watch the light start to leave her eyes, winking out so slowly, like a dying star. But she still looks so pissed.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, you killed me first. You can’t blame me for fighting back.”

She gives her last breath and the TV plays on. Your shoe ticks her hand, her fingers twitching weakly. You watch as she gasps her last breath, a small smile on your face.

You sit at the table and turn the TV down. You wait a few minutes, but it quickly becomes an hour. You have yourself a nice little treat while you watch, turning the channel to a food network while you eat.

You really are a fantastic cook. The crumb on this batch is so nice you don’t even taste the metallic tang of poison. You eat through one, and then another, until the whole basket is empty.

Before you know it there is a concerned knock at the door. The lock clicks and turns when you answer it.

When Moonbyul opens the door, you laugh at the expression on her face. Licking the frosting from your lips. Even that is delicious.

She takes in their bodies, crumpled on the floor the frosting on your cheeks. The evidence. Both of them dying. A violence you cannot undo.

Her voice is somber. “Oh Pup, what have you done?”

~-~

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Notes:

this chapter is a very classic bily chapter, in the fact that there is a fuck ton of fluff and then bang the mafia bits just take you out. we needed to get back into the mafia bits of the story sooner rather than later though 💀

i felt like i was going a little too over the top with certain bits of puptalk in this chapter, but i really wanted to use it to show that like yeah- the pack has been treating her alot more gently since her breakdown, they've been babbying the fuck out of her, even if we don't get to see it :(

Hobi's texts are so???? Fucking cute?? He's so hopeless my god he wants to make her feel loved without actually saying it and i hope you read them and just go "oh, you're an idiot."

I have this whole elaborate backstory to how wonho's gym works with monthly subscriptions to classes where people can decide how many classes they want to take a week, ie gym dues for facilities and then discounted classes on top if they pay for it before hand, with several tiers.

this chapter almost feels clerical- this is definitely more of a set up chapter- where i needed to check off a lot of boxes, like hobi's courting present- before we go any further into the story. things are going to start amping up in terms of stakes pretty quickly.

That one part, where hobi is kinda malfunctioning after the m/c touches his cheek and everyone teases him feels the most representative of the pack as a whole. like that part where they're all replying- feels very real. i struggle a little to capture a sense of domesticity in concise ways, but i think this part is very tidy.

That little touch with hobi- where he touches her wrist and her finger, that touch has so much weight to it, i personally think the whole pack was tasting the sexual tension on the air, can you guys feel it too or is it all in my head?

idk why yoongi calling tae babygirl makes me so flustered but it does 🥵

i really wanted to work calling tae mommy into the chapter someway but tbh this chapter felt complex enough without it.

there is like- one plot hole in this whole story, and that is in the first chapter of the story when yoongi gets a call the person on the other line says "grandfather is dying." implying that his death wasn't instantaneous like this is shown to be. however, in my mind- the injections don't actually kill the don and beta but plunge them into a coma that they never wake up from- is this an actual possibility with arsenic poisoning- NO IT ISN'T lol, you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief for me.

the m/c has always been the person who killed the don and the beta- i've known this since like...maybe the 4th chapter? it wasn't in the og og plan for the story but almost everything in bily has been hammered out since then. and tbh you already knew she killed them just not that it was this violent! does this count as a secret???? idk! maybe!!!

she's a little murder baby just like minnie <3

[moonydustx]

Alligator Tears

completely based on Beyoncé's song alligator tears. Smut, angst with no happy ending.

Crocodile x F! reader

a/n: reptiles, tears and angst. Sorry, irresistible combination.indented dots are song lyrics

MDNI | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

High tides in the city, I'm in too deep And I'm runnin' on fear Oh, dear, you and your alligator tears Works me over and through

The sound of your heels echoed loudly through the hallway and reached Crocodile's ear before your figure even graced his tired vision. When the door slammed behind you and your lips weren't adorned with a smile, it didn't take much to know that something had made you furious.

"Good evening, I guess." Crocodile allowed himself to relax in the chair, seeing you still looking angry. "What do I owe the visit for?"

"What the hell is this idea of ​​us infiltrating that damn city?"

"It's business, darling." He said cynically, seeing you snort. "I need you to investigate who is behind the latest attack, this could cost me a lot of money."

"As if the tyrant who rules that place wasn't enough, the marine protects every inch of that land." your hands hit the table. "Do you want to kill us all?"

"Miss Honeymoon, I wouldn't take you away from someone so fearful." he laughed, lighting one of several cigars. After a long drag, he offered it to you. "What's so distressing?"

"This suicide mission!" you snapped and saw the man remain motionless, almost oblivious to your concerns. Just the way he looked at you indicated that you didn't have many other options. "I understand, Mr.0, we will be leaving in the morning."

"Hey!" he said louder once you turned your back and were ready to leave. "Lock the door and come back here."

"But…"

"Lock the door." he insisted, putting out his freshly lit cigar. Now, he had other priorities to deal with. As soon as he heard the key click and saw you turn around, he asked. " Come here."

Your heels echoed much softer than the first time he heard it that night. With slow steps - and in his view, sensual - you approached, stopping on the opposite side of the table and crossing your arms. A light laugh passed through him as he noticed that it wasn't long before you pouted.

"Not there." he emphasized, moving the chair he sat in a little further away. "Come here."

Still looking frustrated, you complied. Not that he had many options other than that. After all, besides obeying, being what he needed, what else could you be? This was no time to think about that.

You barely reached it and felt the hand - the one that actually belonged to him - touch your waist and gently pull you until you were sitting on his lap.

"I hate it when you call me that."

"By your name, which you chose yourself." you let a cynical smile escape your lips. "What would you prefer me to call you, Mr.0?"

"My name used to sound much prettier than that when I left here." He touched your lips gently and trying to control your impulses, you had to try hard not to kiss the tips of his fingers.

"I have no reason to please you with this, Mr.0, not now."

"Your luck…" he pulled you, allowing your faces to be millimeters apart. "It's just that I need you in one piece and well for this mission. You deserved a good punishment after this."

"What if I want to be punished?" your voice became low, provocative, the way you knew it would set him off.

"Not today darling." he adjusted your legs so that they were around him. "That doesn't mean you don't deserve some attention."

His hook stuck against your back as his tongue delved into your lips, taking what belonged to him. His hand ran over your skin exposed by the tiny dress, allowing the straps of your dress to slide down and with just a few movements, the expensive fabric became just a puddle on the floor of his room.

His hand went down between your legs, opening your lips and letting two fingers circle your clit, hearing you gasp. The movement of your hips against his hand indicated how much more contact you needed. Your hands, which before were only used to support yourself on the shoulders of the man beneath you, now dug in your nails in an effort to demand contact.

"That's what you needed all this time, wasn't it?" he whispered, giving a small bite to your neck. "You deserve some encouragement before you go on your mission."

His fingers had already found your entrance and enjoyed a rhythmic back and forth. Your gasps were now contained moans, the fear of being discovered by a colleague made the little adventure even more exciting.

"Croc…"

"I'll give you what you want. You've been so good." his wet fingers came out of you and just placed his dick at your entrance. Then, they continued, still wet with your essence, to your lips. Without hesitation, you grabbed the digits, feeling the lust that came from his eyes hit you straight. "Get what you need from me."

"It's too much." you slid down a little, feeling him open you up.

"My girl can handle it, i know you can babygirl" he helped push your hips down

You moved slowly, savoring every inch of him inside you. Your mouth, now without being taken to him, was where the requests for more escaped and at the same time, where the loud moans that you could have made were contained.

It didn't take long for you to briefly lose your support. Crocodile's body, which was sitting, was now standing and placed you on the table, increasing the intensity of each thrust, his fingers were already marking your waist just as the hook was digging into your skin. However, you were too lost to feel any kind of pain.

Soon you felt him fill you. The hot liquid of his cum along with his agile touch on your clit was what you needed to get there. So that huge room above you became just a white blur. Pulling you back to sit on his lap and ignoring his possible grumbles, you lay down against Crocodile's chest. The hand that actually belonged to him slid down your back, causing small goosebumps.

"What scares you so much about going there?" His hoarse voice interrupted your daydreams, his eyes searched yours. "What bothers you so much about this mission?"

"I think you've heard what that tyrant does to anyone who stands up to him." You curled up in his arms, feeling him squeeze you.

"Good thing that won't happen to you, to any of you. I don't have weak people working for me."

"And that's all I am, little lizard, just another worker?" You said in a cynical tone and then his hand pulled your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"The fact that you call me a little lizard and still alive proves exactly the opposite." He took your lips quickly, wanting to make it clear what he meant - even if it was still difficult to put into words. "I need people I trust in this, so I put you and Daz in this lead."

"I understood." you said in a resigned tone, your eyes downcast. "Can I ask you something?"

"With you like this, naked and on top of me, I believe I could ask for anything in the world." he laughed, seeing you mumble. "What do you need, my honeymoon."

"Sleep with me, just tonight?" You asked and saw him thinking, even so, you decided to insist on your proposal. "We don't know what will happen from tomorrow onwards. This could be my last night here."

"Don't say that kind of nonsense." he became serious again. His hand began to hold your face more firmly, it was as if he read your soul just by the way he looked at you. "Don't you dare get hurt there, or else…" he let the sentence trail off, seeing you smile slightly. "I have some things to finish and then I'll sleep with you."

"That's a great start, little crocodile." You made to get up, but he promptly kept you there.

"Stay here in the meantime. I promise it won't take long."

Without responding, you snuggled against him, your face finding his favorite spot against his skin. While his hand was busy writing, he occasionally rubbed the one with the hook against your skin, this time, almost affectionately, being careful not to make such a strong gesture.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep there.

Sunrise in the morning, you're all I need All I need is rain or roots get weak Sweet things need time to grow Thinkin' about leavin'? Hell no Squeeze every ounce of love on my body, yeah

It had been a long month since you left on a mission. A long month filled with worry on Crocodile's part. As much as he didn't want to take it on, he knew the mission was risky and he knew everything would work out.

At least that's what he believed until his right-hand man, Daz, walked through the door to his room, haggard and injured.

"Daz, what happened?" he asked, without much patience to know about the bruises that marked his colleague's face. He knew something had gone wrong, it was obvious.

"We were ambushed, we lost a good part of the contingent." the man, ignoring Crocodile's possible complaints, took a small list from his pocket. "A contact of mine was able to tell me who was captured and who died in the attack."

"Anyone interesting?"

Daz started to list but soon the names became a blur in Crocodile's mind. Your name, at the top of the list of losses. His words echoed through such a blur, "This could be my last night here."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understood." the not so common request left his lips. "That's the list…"

"Of those who died in battle. Some I got to see in person. Miss honeymoon was…"

"You don't need to inform me. She's dead, the way this happened won't change that." the words seemed to weigh tons as they left his mouth. "Go. Get some help for those injuries." Crocodile responded coldly, almost impatient with the delay it took the other to leave.

Feeling the weight of the news fall off his shoulders, Crocodile allowed his body to fall onto the massive chair behind him. You had warned him, hadn't you? All the signs there were clear, except that he ignored them.

At the same time as he didn't want to know what had happened, he wanted to be able to know every detail. Did you suffer a lot? Was Daz sure you were dead?

The immense room was, for the first time, a blur.

His hands felt almost blindly at the false bottom of the drawer closest to him. It didn't take them long to reach the two precious things he kept there, two photos that now only he would know existed.

The first was your naked body, partially lying down, not so exposed. The light was dark in the background and the only thing there was besides you and your thin heels in the image was a glass of wine between your fingers.

The second, however, is the one that affected him the most. Your messy hair, your face wrinkled after a night's sleep, his shirt unbuttoned on your body, Crocodile's arm held you tightly against him - and it was the only thing about the man that appeared in the image. Image of a morning when - the night before - he had lied that he would need you to accompany him on a mission, just to have you in a fancy hotel, to keep you safe in his arms.

Only when he felt something wet touch the tips of his fingers that were holding the photos he realize. The visit he hadn't received in so long and for someone made of sand, it would be almost unthinkable to see that again. After so much time, so many reasons, tears were flowing from him. Perhaps, that was a feeling that had come too late. And maybe, you had left him too soon.

I adore you, your alligator tears

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

12 - The Cost of Our Sins

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 10.2k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, traumatic and disturbing imagery, gore, physical abuse, confinement and restraints, reference/allusions to rape, trauma response, torture, suicidal ideation, past character death

Notes: I am so sorry for..well...pretty much everything, cus the horror show does not end at the last chapter strap in because part 3 starts now. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Numb is all you felt, a radiating sensation of death that sat through your body still on it’s side. Your eyes could not open, as you felt the pooling of blood in your stomach. The warmth soaked feeling where a son once lay inside you. You had looked into Robb’s eyes as yours faded with him. You had gone together, and now you lay there with the seconds of an awoken mind. Eyes fluttering open was not that of the scene you died, but something worse.

It was fire. Blood and fire all around as you barley could open your eyes long enough to see what your sins had cost you. Was it the Seven, the Old Gods, or the fire god your father had found in that sought to punish you? You lay looking through bars that caged you at the hell before you, it was your punishment for all crimes you had found in. 

The world before this ended you and Robb Stark together and somewhere in this hell your gods decided that you could not reunite until you were given fair just sentence for your sins. Push through this, you thought, let the gods do with you as they wish and they will allow you to return in the veil to him, to him and your son. 

Chanting that in your ears sounded like they were moving underwater, you felt too heavy to lift your head to look. Your body burned and bled still and your muscles could not move but that of your eyes to the blur around you. The chanting grew louder and louder as a group rounded a corner of wherever you were brought too, and it was your husband that they called too. A chanting of King in the North, over and over as you watched his own punishment. The gods were far more cruel then you ever imagined as you watched what they forced you to atone in.

It was Robb, but propped up against something, the black outfit was the very one you recalled your living self, lovingly dressing him in. And the shine in his bright blue eyes as they looked over you with as much love as you had in your heart. But it was soaked in blood as you lay, and not the face of your husband. 

Instead, the sight of The Young Wolf was that as you were The Silent Stag. His head bloodied, but like it had formed into that of a giant direwolf, like he turned into his very companion in Grey Wind as it looked propped on his body. The gods, forcing him to live what he was called and you as your own as you lay in a choking cry unable to find the strength to speak or cry to him through the blood in your mouth. 

His sight was mocked by the demonic creatures you could barley see around him, before the water in your eyes blurred him, before the fading came once more. You accepted the horror that he did not deserve. This was for your sins. 

Let the gods do this, and once more you would wake. In the realms beyond the living, Robb at your side with an arm around you, as you held your son, little Ned. You promised to always be together. 

The gods would punish you, and allow you to be together once more. You and Robb just had to endure this horror, and you would finally be together again. 

That was all you had to do to get back to him. 

Skies were dim as you ventured further into the lands, leaving a drab feeling blanketing over the land that fit the state of mind you lived in. According to the rumblings in the men, you had been in and out of conciseness for almost a fortnight, leaving you to assume that the last of the summer sun had died out and only the dim of autumn remained. Not that you missed the sun, the last time it shined in any way that you could appreciate was so far off you bared not thinking about it. 

Watching the men around you act like normal had made you angry in those first few days you woke up, but now it was all meaningless to try and keep that energy up, you had none left in you really. The small cage off in the distance was your home for a bit, mostly a place you were tossed to wait and see if you would ever wake up, but then once you had? They kept you shoved in there just to keep you from lashing out. 

The first day one of the men had approached you to give you water, only to slide his hand into the bars as your hands were tightly bound. He still wore an ugly dressing over the mark where you bit him, your mouth still stained somewhat with blood from how hard you dug your teeth in. After that, multiple men had to drag you out and hold you down so they could gag you which had stayed on you for the most part, including now. 

But you were too exhausted to fight, your face and skin were constantly flush and hot with sweat as your head grew more fuzzy and dizzy each day. Once it was determined you were indeed alive and not going to bleed out, apparently some kind of infection set in just to make you more pathetic. Currently as camp was made for the night you were granted some freedom. 

The men assigned to watch you noting that you were mostly docile, leaning your head against the iron bars with a distant and dispondant look, to weak to even roll your eyes at their comments. You had been allowed to be let out, and brought to a tree where you now sat tied up against. What a sight you must have been, flush and sweaty, covered in grime to the point it matted in your hair, and still wearing the very dress you had been that night, still soaked in dried blood. 

It was a living nightmare, your dreams flashing in a repeating horror with the strings of music that would forever haunt you, only to awake to the men all finding it in their cold hearts, to sing it outloud. You wondered if they even knew other songs, or if it was just all a sick game to torment you as they dragged you with them. If one more of them sung that Lannister song, you were going to find a way to free your hands just to cut off your own ears. 

Perhaps it was the fever in your head, but you had no sense of what to feel anymore. It was so twisted all wrong, and you had not the heart to find it’s truth in front of all these people. Not them, not after what they’ve done. 

Your eyes flickered up in a painful glare as footsteps approached, and the figure kneeling in front of you raised an eyebrow at your state. “Now, my lady, if I take this off are you going to behave, or will you need a refresher?” His hand pointing to your eye. Right, that must be just adding to your state, likely bruised by this point when he had hit you hard across the face after you kicked away the food he brought you. 

You wanted nothing from Roose Bolton, but he insisted on finding ways to keep you alive. A true mockery that felt now. Your stomach burned where the slices refused to heal or fade. You looked off to the side dejectedly, and he took that was an answer. 

Pulling the fabric down from between your teeth you bit your tongue and continued to not look in his direction. “It’s been almost a fortnight since you’ve eaten, and days since you’ve had any water. If I’m going to keep you alive, we’re going to have to fix that problem.” 

“Then don’t keep me alive. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You barley recognized your voice, it was hoarse and so rough that your throat screamed at you to douse it in water and smooth it down with honey to ease the pain. Tearing your eyes back up to him as your head lulled to rest back against the bark you raised your eyebrows at him in challenge. 

His ability to keep calm in any situation no longer was a point of impressive resolve, but an angering fester in your stomach at his lack of humanity. “It was not a matter of personal affairs, just politics, my lady.” 

Your breath cracked out a single laugh that almost made you cough. “Where is the utility in keeping me alive, when you sure tried your best to do the opposite?” You couldn’t ignore the burning inside of you, it was as if you’d pull your dress up and see a blackness toxifying around what was left. 

“This is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. Not in your fragile state.” Huffing another cracked laughter you asked him what he even wanted. “Right now I want to ensure I can get myself, my men, and even you into the Dreadfort in one piece. When we arrive I will have our maester treat you, then we can speak more.” 

You felt dizzy even just sitting up against a tree like this, the air was obviously getting colder judging by the state of dress going around but you neither were covered in anyway to help, nor did you really feel it. It was as if you were in the dark swampiness of the Crannogmen lands but instead of a misty air it was humid and sweltering like a Dornish sun. All you could muster was a huff. 

Leaning forward with a skin of something, he opened the cap and took a sip before holding it up with an expectant look. “It will be far easier to get us past the Ironborn if I have you on a horse instead of dragging you around in a cage. But I need to know you will cooperate if I do. I’ll even keep let you stay ungagged.”  

Leaning forward with the skin once more before he was uncomfortably close to your face, “I wouldn’t test me further, my lady. The only thing keeping these men from raping you every night is my order, and I’m quite sure in this state you wouldn’t survive as many as have talked about it. So either it’s me, or I leave you now to the mercy of my men.”

There was no place in arguing, you had nothing to fight back with. Jaw clenched as you fought back the angry pounding in your heart, you nodded. Roose seemingly satisfied enough that he gently placed the skin to your mouth. The water down your throat felt so soothing that it made your insides wish to cry, but you had no energy for it. So you let him give you the water, and come morning maybe you would feel less like a floating bundle of delusions. 

He left you alone after that, but just as he said none came over to you. You think there were groups that had their eyes on you, but it was difficult to see. In the dark, the blurriness of your vision only let you see what was in front of your face and everything else was blurs of shapes and fire. 

Late into the night, you fell asleep once more. The only thing which came to you, was the sight of Roose plunging the knife he struck you with into the chest of Robb and the strings of music that had played only seconds before it all. That’s all you saw anymore, and you couldn’t remember if you ever dreamed in any way before that night, all you saw and heard was those two things again and again. 

One man, dark eyes with a creeping look that would once have made you on edge was the one who fetched you come morning. He spoke some, expected nothing in return. Pointing a knife at your unresponsive face as he threw out, “You run or hit me, and I’ll knock that pretty face around enough to leave a mark that’ll stay ugly. Got it?” Merely untying you did nothing, since your hands were still bound tight enough to keep you from struggling them from behind. 

Yanking you up to your feet he walked you though the camp to where the horses were stood ready to go. Another man next to what seemed to be his, smirked as he nodded to you like a silent object. “Know it’s been a rough few years when even this one looks good ‘nuff to make a man jealous.” 

Knocking him in the arm, he moved with him to hoist you up onto the horse, your vision spinning drastically at the movement with no way to steady yourself. The first dark eyed man, Locke, climbed up behind you, taking your bound hands into his grip and yanking you back to hiss in your ear. “Be smart now, lass. There’s nothing round us but Ironborn and best bet no one’s gonna protect your honour once you’re alone with them. You gonna be a smart girl?” Nodding with a clenched jaw, he hummed satisfied. 

Shoving you off of him before the rest of the men all begun to take off. They’d have to take the day to sneak past the bordered scouts and by then, if they pushed hard they could make it to the Dreadfort by next daybreak. You couldn’t possibly wonder what awaited you there, but at the minimum, threat of death was far from any worry in your mind. 

Waking up for good had felt like a new kind of death, a confusion that tore you up and threatened to swallow you whole. Making no sense at first, you had died you knew it. Or, you thought you did. Not a thing had felt like the way you were fading and yet you were here now. You dared not think of the memory of fire and chanting you were so sure as a deathly torment of the gods. If you thought of that, you might bringing up the only thing in your stomach, of water and bile and you refused to look at yourself in anyway. The red staining your dress was there until the mercy of new clothes might be granted if ever. 

You had no right to be here, you had promised him. You and Robb promised the other that it would be until your last day, together. Not one without the other, you found your fate dying beside him but yet you were alive and the memories of him would paint before your mind like cries in the night. 

Something was quite wrong inside you, but you felt like there wasn’t enough awareness in you to see what it was or what was missing. All you knew is that you were trapped in this memory of that night, and you couldn’t see a single thing in the world around you except that and here. 

If there was a world and people that existed besides this nightmare, you could not find them. 

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?” 

Standing in the main hall before three men, having found nothing right when Jon awoke. Lord Commander Mormont as Sam said, dead. Murdered in a mutiny, and leaving him to hope that he learned enough from the Old Bear to get through to the rest. 

Jon saw nothing but conflict in his actions, and as he stood there now it was clear that it didn’t matter what they thought of him, it mattered that he make them understand what no one else seemed to truly get. Neither side got it, it seemed. “I didn’t murder him.” 

Ser Alliser Thorne looked him down with the same contempt he always had, and if he had his way without question he would’ve ended Jon then and there the second he rode through the gates. “No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night’s Watch. What do you call that?” 

“He wanted me to kill him.” 

Lord Janos Slynt sat to the left, leaning partially across the table with the same puffy and slime filled smugness he always held. Full of respect for none but his own reputation, and yet he was here down in the icy ends of the world like the rest of them. “The bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?” 

The man was lucky Jon wasn’t as young and brash as he was in his first months here. He tried putting a knife through Ser Alliser in a rage for a similar comment once upon a time. Instead, he kept his composure and attention on the later man and Maester Aemon listening intently to his right. “The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army.” 

Ser Alliser interrupting with a gritted roughness that Jon could sympathize with. “Don’t talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother.”

They were all brothers now, even you, Jon thought. Ser Alliser certainly wasn’t a fan of Jon, nor he in return but he knew losing a brother wasn’t easy and it certainly didn’t make Jon feel like he was doing the right thing when he killed him. He agreed with the man himself to do it, and he agreed with why, but he still put his sword through the Halfhand. His first true kill and that would forever be a bloodstain on his hands. “Then you’d know he’d do anything to defend the Wall. The free folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-”

Slynt had the gall to laugh, like there was anything in Jon’s entire existence anymore that even could give the slightest bit of amusement. “The free folk? Listen to him, he even talks like a wildling now.” 

The rage for a minute spilled out of his mouth as Jon raised his voice to him, “Aye, I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings, I climbed the wall with the wildlings, I-” There was that wave again. One that made him feel uncomfortable and bordering on a guilty kind of dirty that he couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard. It was there and they would all only see one thing, but it didn’t feel anything the way they were going to. 

Then Jon thought of you, and it just made it all the worse. But he had to be honest in some regards, he wasn’t going to get through to these men by lying. He had to just say it the only way any would care or believe him with. “I laid with a wildling girl.” 

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?” 

If that’s what they were going to focus on, what would it even take to convince them to take him seriously on anything else. He did break his vows, but not willingly, and not with the only person who deserved to have them broken for. 

Janos Slynt continued his petty tirade that Jon was growing increasingly annoyed with. “The law is law, the boy must die.” And what law did you break to get here, my lord? What had you done to find yourself from City Watch Commander to the Night’s Watch, what mercy were you shown to not die for your crimes, Jon thought. 

Maester Aemon however, seemed to care not for where they saw fit to debate Jon on. “If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men.” 

Ser Alliser trying to argue, “There’s a difference between sneaking off to the Mole’s Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy.” Somehow Jon knew that telling him the only alternative was death, wouldn’t exactly give him any more leniency, but he like Aemon, had no time for this. 

“Aye, there is a difference. Sneaking out to a brothel doesn’t give you detailed information about their enemy plans and numbers. And while we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the wall with an army of a hundred thousand.” 

They tried to protest that was impossible, but he’d seen it. He had walked through that camp and felt nothing but a building dread for what was to come of any of this. “He’s united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Ice-River Clans. He has giants fighting for him.” 

The degree to which Jon was getting fed up with Janos Slynt was immeasurable. The man laughed while looking at the other two who didn’t find anything funny about it. “Giants?” 

Jaw tight, he looked to the waste of air with a barley held back lack of respect on his face. “Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?” 

There was that huff of pride in his face once more. “I commanded the City Watch of King’s Landing, boy.” 

“And now you’re here. You must not have been very good at your job.” Jon would have no way of knowing it, but another voice with serious eyes and a dismissive snark echoed in Janos Slynt’s ears. 

The voice of a woman who he had no reasonable way of knowing meant a single thing to dark curly haired man in front of them. The girl had spent many of her days on the council questioning his capabilities, and insulting him all the same as this one. But Jon ignored his outrage as she always would.

“There’s a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane. I killed their warg and three others, they shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the south while Mance hits it from the north. Their signal for the attack will be a bonfire, Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That’s the truth. All the truth.” 

They didn’t execute him, or at least not that day Jon thought to himself. As he slept that night though, he still saw you dying on the floor in your own blood. Sam had tried asking him about the girl, about Ygritte. Especially since he now had Gilly in his life but Jon knew there was no comparing. From what he could tell, Gilly had more of a strange sheltered life then any of them, and she was nothing like the aggressive and hypocritical anger of the wildling girl Jon had travelled with. 

But he didn’t want to talk about Ygritte, he didn’t want to talk about having to send his only protection in Ghost away just to save his cover from that of death. Didn’t want to talk about what he was forced to do and how he tricked himself into thinking it was all fine just to cope with it. 

Only a few times did Sam try to gently bring up the other, but Jon shot it down every single time. He already felt pain and anger about it, about Robb. Jon certainly didn’t want to talk about you. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

Jon had a job to do, and he was haunted enough in his dreams of your death to have Sam try and comfort him about it. Besides, he didn’t even have Ghost now. He hadn’t seen him since sending him off and all he could remember in his waking hours, was the two of you sitting in front of the Weirwood. Ghost still tiny curled up in your lap as you sat in his arms. 

He was losing everything it seemed, but he’d be damned if he lost this place, the only thing that served from the gods to provide Jon with any kind of purpose. In this coming war, or the one foreboding against them in the distant colds of the far North. 

The Dreadfort was a befitting name you supposed. It stood tall in what looked like the middle of nowhere, cleared land all around the high walls, that build up on the inside to the highest fort in the dead centre with edges at the top looking like sharp, imposing teeth. As your eyes drifted along it, a woozy feeling came over you from the last push to get into the lands past the remaining Ironborn. Gates opening, the court was as drab and deary as the rest of it and yet the people all scattered around were normal. 

Roose Bolton climbed from his horse first to greet a figure awaiting in the distance, and introducing his new wife. Walda was a bit younger then you, and certainly held more life in her eyes and face then you did. A brightness as she was brought into the castle where you were pulled off the front of the horse by two men. 

Turning from the other man, Roose looked to them with orders, “Put her in a cell, and have Maester Wolkan look her over.” You hardly had a chance to see or hear anything else as you were dragged into a deeper part of the structure. The cells in your vision were along a single wall and quite small as the only light was a small set of torches lit along wall corners. 

None said a word to you, but you went willingly as they opened the doors. Cutting your hands free behind your back before tossing you in and closing behind you. The echos of their feet fading off until it was the flickering of the flames left alone with you. 

Wincing as you dragged yourself up with palms braced on the ragged ground before finding a resting spot against the wall and side of the cell. Resting your head along the bars you couldn’t figure out what it was you were feeling. Your body held an ache all over where some places burned like a festering would alight. 

Eyes barley focusing on the wall beyond your cell, they wanted to let tears fall freely but you simply had nothing left in you. The shock of waking up had passed by this point, and now all that was left was the murky depths left behind and only one thing at a time could come to the surface for air. You could still hear the strings playing, the hall filling with music that had you, nor anyone, suspect a thing until it was already over. 

You hardly thought any other music existed, it looped in your mind as did the damning stop of it as the instruments blurred to weapons. Perhaps it was your doom to sit reliving such a moment and yet you found nothing in you to say Roose Bolton took you just to let you rot. 

He had tried to kill you, and you had even lay there beside Robb thinking he had succeeded until..the wall torch fire before you flashed to another fire, and that turned to yells and chanting and in a split second you flew a hand to to grasp tightly at one of the bars as your lungs gave out. You told yourself not to think about it, you said you would never look back to that sight-

A door opening had you slam your eyes shut, breathing so harshly out that you felt the dizziness spin around you. Your hand still gripped the bar so tightly though that it strained your hand into a cramp as you willed your panic to swallow. “My lady,” 

Slowly you opened them, trying to stay still as you glanced up and to the side where a man you didn’t recognize stood. Two guards behind him, but you did note the chains across his robes before sighing and turning away. 

The guards entered behind him to stand at attention as he came towards you. “My lady, I am Maester Wolkan, I am here to see how your health is faring.” He knelt down in front of you as you huffed out a painful spit of air as it trying to fake a laugh. “I understand you have been through a lot, if you would allow me?” 

Rolling your head to the side so he could see your still discoloured eye, he tilted your head back and forth to see the other cuts along you. “How long have you had this fever?” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even know. It had been days since you woken up, and it’s felt both like years of pain have passed through you and only seconds since losing everything of your life. 

Wolkan lightly soaked a cloth in a small basin of water before dabbing it across your forehead, the coolness of it making you hiss towards the feeling against your burning skin. Taking it upon himself, he washed away some of the blood and grime on your face as the water left a cool sheen on it.

“Can you stand on your own?” Your eyes narrowed in confusion before remembering he was there to look at your wounds, when truthfully you didn’t see the point. Nodding, you hissed in lifting yourself up, letting him look over your arm, pulling apart the torn fabric near your shoulder to look at the deep unhealed scar inside of it. “Any pain or difficulties moving this arm at all?” 

You shook your head no, passing your notice, that it made him pause, looking at you almost puzzled for just a moment. He must have been told some of the wounds, as gently asked you, “I will have to undo the laces against your back to check the one there.” You didn’t react, just looked to the nothing on the dark walls as he looked where you pushed away the memory of an arrow. Not the one which hit you, no, the ones that-

“This might seem a droll indecent, but I was informed you had received a significant injury on your stomach and I will need to take a look at it.” You were stuck at the arrows, not thinking of anything else after reliving the seconds as they hit him, and your eyes finding a watering that luckily was hard to see in this light. 

The man had to gently pull up the skirt of your dress, trying carefully not to peel it on the sensitive skin as he revealed what you had no bravery to look at. But by not looking at it, you also missed the shocked, almost dreadfully fearful astonishment in Wolkan’s face. “My lady how did-” 

“Ask your lord, he will know better.” 

The finality in your tone ended that line of thought in his head, but his eyes were so focused on the wounds that you begun to shake from the lack of energy. Dropping it back down he gently grabbed your upper arms, “Here, you can sit once more.” 

It took some time for him to come to an assessment, packing up some of his things. “I fear you have an infection, my lady. The lack of food and water likely making it overstay it’s place for much longer, I will have simple water and broth sent down to you for the next while. As well as a potion that will help speed the process.” Glancing down to your stomach and then your dulled eyes he paused, “It is the-”

“I don’t want to to hear it, just send me what I need to take and I’ll take it. Now if we are finished Maester, I’d like to be left alone to rot in the quiet.” Watching you for a few significant moments, he respected your wish and made his way to leave. 

Normally he would inform you the degree which it would make you ill before getting better, but he had the feeling you had very little care on such a side effect. Such a state you were in, how bloodied and unwell you were as Lord Bolton dragged you across much of the North, and then was the wounds on her stomach..as far as Wolkan in all his knowledge could tell anyone, there shouldn’t have been a soul who could have survived that. 

It hadn’t healed, but it was as if it was to stay open and deep without having any impact on the skin around it. It was a gruesome, violent, jagged series of scars all connected together, and yet it was as if they existed separate of your body.

In the main hall, the Greyjoy in Ramsay Snow’s care looked as unwell and ragged as the lady in the cells, but subservient to the point it made many uncomfortable. “If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side now that Robb Stark is gone.” 

Theon pausing in his actions shaving the younger man, a horror in his eyes that was desperate to be pushed back down before it swallowed him whole. Ramsay with no genuinity in his sorrowful tone. “Oh that’s right, Reek. Robb Stark is dead.” 

Roose Bolton notably said nothing to stop his sons torment of Theon. Turning to Locke instead he gave the man an offer, “Find those boys and I’ll give you a thousand acres and a holdfast.”  

Locke asking on any ideas where to start, and the beginnings of a true mistake unknowingly spilling from Roose’s mouth in instruction. “Jon Snow is at Castle Black. Their bastard brother, he could be sheltering them, he may know where they are. Even if he doesn’t he’s half Stark himself which means he could prove to be a threat. Especially if he learns of our most recent prisoner,” Pausing as he looked to Ramsey with something that Theon couldn’t yet grasp, how could he? He didn’t know any of who else they were keeping here besides himself.

Looking back to Locke, Roose was specific with your name on his lips that way too quickly made Theon swallow harshly, “Make sure no mention of her presence here gets out. Jon Snow was close with the girl, and she is his brothers widow. If he isn’t hiding the boys, he may still learn that she’s being kept here. And I don’t care to have him bringing a fight to our doorstep to get her back.” 

His instructions included killing you, that much was made clear from Tywin Lannister but apparently you were a frustrating little fighter. It was a surprise to find later in the night, you were still alive. He had come up as the blood was all still fresh, knocked you with his foot onto your back and you were as dead as every other corpse in the hall. You and Robb both pale, blood had spilled out and stopped, and not a pulse to be felt as both your eyes sat wide, colourless, and defeated. There was no question about it.

Until later when he had returned. Ensuring the giant direwolf had been taken care of, walking back in before the Freys and his men could do whatever with the bodies they wished. But as he approached the King and Queen, and with no one in the hall to have done so, suddenly, your eyes had been closed. And you had the faintest of pulses he’d ever felt, but it was there. He was sure he watched you die himself, but now you sat in his dungeon as a plan begun to formulate in his mind. 

Time was difficult for you to gauge, but far longer had begun to pass then you realized, weeks and months that felt like seconds or years. In that time, Roose building the steps to a proper claim, and promised his bastard son, that if he could prove himself and retake Moat Cailin, then he would reconsider his position. Afterall, if you were alive anyways, you were of no use to Roose in the hands of his bastard, but in the hands of a legitimate heir? Perhaps the gods left you alive for a reason. 

Roose just had to make sure that the half Stark at Castle Black heard no word of you being alive. Too many people underestimated Robb Stark for too long, and the same mistake would not be made twice, not for his brother. Ramsay has his own way of things, but Roose Bolton did not want to be the one to underestimate Jon Snow.  

Gods, how much time had even passed? You felt in a daze that never ended, even worse then before. A servant for the Maester brought down a vile smelling potion which tasted even worse. Since you had kept nothing down. The broth and water seems to be your only diet to make having it come right back up less disgusting. 

You were dripping in sweat, your head running so hot you wondered if the fire of the torch would even burn you. Sometime in the hours, or days that had passed you would see things your mind told you to not believe. Some of it you knew, most of it felt like a life that was beyond understanding. 

Laying in bed, there was rain pouring out the high windows that blended with the river in the distance, the light of the moon dripping you in shades of blue matching his bright eyes as you lay bare on your side into the equally as bare chest of another. His hand drifting across your stomach so gently in touch as you nuzzled into their neck. The feeling of his curls dancing around your cheek before the strings begun.  

The begun and as they played you opened your eyes in the same position as his hand raised now soaked in blood. Looking to you his blue eyes were in a terrified horror before you could see them go out all the same. Only as you lay there on your side, feeling the blood rushing from your stomach like it was to never end, did the room twist and turn to a red.

Red tones and fire all around as a voice in a foreign accent spoke in your ear. Their red hair hanging low as she spoke and if you had the strength to turn you could see the tight red ruby choked around her neck as she spoke. “Your Great Wolf to stand with you and your children together.”

You wanted to turn and lash out, scream that he was dead and so was the child in your womb but all that happened was blood rushing now from your mouth too. Too much blood that you begun to choke on it as you turned to her the red ruby trailing up until a pair of eyes met yours. Eyes of blue that sat on the head of a wolf it did not belong with, only as the faint chanting begun did your eyes snap open.

Turning to the corner behind you did you violently cough up nothing but water and bitter bile that scraped at your throat. One hand pressed against the wall and the other braced on the floor as you brought up what was hardly even there. Your throat burned as your stomach did, the servant who was bringing it down for you to drink would tell you it is to cleanse your system of the rot and it only felt like it spread violently. 

No sense of night or day, you hardly even had enough resolve to pay attention to the schedule of the guards. The servant of the Maester seemed kind, but he was a young boy who didn’t know any better you suspected. No one else spoke to you, or much looked at you. 

As you heaved to catch your breathe in between the pressure on your chest as you spit up more bile, you wondered if it mattered anymore. If none of them knew who you were, it would not matter what happened to you you maybe life would be easier if you just died on them. 

It would be easier for you as well. But there was nothing for such a thing in the cell. Just dirt, and your own fluids that mixed horribly. If any were to find you now, they’d easily mistaken you for a filthy craven, and you felt like one. 

You barley heard the footstep over the heaves of your breathe until they were speaking to you right outside the bars. “Oh my word,” Gasping you flung yourself back, almost pressing up against the wall with fright. You barley could recognize the fellow kneeling down looking at you, but you think perhaps he was in the courtyard when greeting Roose. 

Hair dark to an almost black and laid flat across his forehead with eeiry pale blue eyes that were wide as they looked at you. You said nothing, untrusting of any face that looked at you in such a place. Looking you over, he sighed to himself. “I heard we had a guest, but such a shame to find you in a state such as this, my lady.” 

Straightening your back, you dragged your knees up to your chest, as you narrowed your eyes. He simply shrugged to himself before holding a hand out through the bars, seeing you not move an inch as he grimaced and pulled back even slower. “Not a woman for formalities, I can understand that. Especially in a state such as this,” whistling out he looked you over in a way you could only describe as making you feel even dirtier then you were. “Why they didn’t even bother offering you new clothes, you’re stuck in the same bloody ones as you arrived. That will not do, a lady should at least have a pretty dress to go with such a pretty face.” 

“What do you want?”

He reacted none to the bluntness, your voice scratched badly like claw marks scraped down your throat. “Well I would be remiss if I didn’t pay the late Queen in the North a visit.” You bit your tongue to the point it threatened to bleed, it was a mockery. Is that what you were supposed to see yourself as anymore, here thrown away in the dungeons to waste in the home of the very man who murdered your king? “Oh, I’m so sorry. Sensitive subject, I know.”

His voice was so exaggerated in his inauthenticity, you bought not a word and you thought you likely weren’t supposed to. “If you’ve come down here to mock me, fair not. Bolton’s men have seen fit to do that the entire journey, I am not with a lack of torment.” 

It felt so unnerving, his eyes. The way they lingered on you in ways you couldn’t immediately detect the intention of and a glint behind them that terrified you beyond what anything you’d see. But you were lucky, you were too faded inside to show it as he spoke once more. “You wound me, my lady. We’re in the North you see, we supported our King in the North and his Queen. But, I suppose if he’s good and dead that doesn’t really make you one anymore does it?” 

You didn’t care if you were a queen, you cared that you were Robb’s wife and now you broke your promise to stay together. You swore a vow in love and now you sat with his blood in your mouth and son dead from your womb. “Then again, you are still a Baratheon, does that make you a princess now? No, that doesn’t seem quite right either does it. A girl like you doesn’t scream princess.” 

Finding the strength to turn away from him, you looked at the nothing of the dark wall. Your name quiet on your lips. “That’s all I am I suppose.” 

“I seem to have you at a disadvantage, I know your name my lady but you don’t know mine do you? You’ve likely heard of me, most call me Ramsay, others call me Roose Bolton’s bastard son.” Your back chilled as you shivered, despite the sweat and the heat in your mind. So his family is all in on it, that was just what you needed to hear. 

Turning your head to face him as it leaned against the wall, you raised an eyebrow dully. “Did you want something, or can I die in peace?” 

He tsked as he stood up. “Now my lady, you can’t die. We haven’t spent nearly enough time together for me to be sick of you. I came to tell you, once you’re better, I can find you a nice room, a hot bath and we’ll see about any nice, pretty dresses we can get for you.” 

Clearly, he did not care if you bought into him. It didn’t matter if you left this cell or not, you couldn’t see past the blood and the fog in your head marred by the strings of music. He only took a few steps away before spinning back to you in a dramatic fashion. 

“How silly of me, I did come here with a present actually. You see, I have a little task I have to leave for, and I just couldn’t bear the thought if something happened to him and you didn’t get a chance to meet each other. My own servant, a very special boy I’ve whipped him up to be.” You narrowed your eyes as you felt your limbs weigh too much, you’d have passed out from exhaustion were he still not insisting on talking. 

“If he does a good job while we’re away, I may just start lending him to you once we get you back on your feet. I’m sure he will be the perfect company. Reek, come say hello.” If you had anything left to bring back up to the surface of the world, you would have. 

Instead you lost all breathe, head spinning as you found the appearance of this so called present. Much like you, marred in grime and dirt and sickly appearance to their skin that matched with the matted hair grown out. As if their entire existence was in a detrimental fear, you felt a weight in your throat that kept you from any words. 

Dark eyes that refused to look at a thing slowly drifted upwards until they met the agony of yours and your heart pounded until it flattened to nothing and left you woozy. There was a recognition in his eyes that you were to delusional and feverish to understand. 

Something that in Ramsay’s delight of torment, did not see. A pain of who he was looking at and what state they both had ended up in, alone in the world trapped within the confines of the family of flayers and torturers. “Now Reek, it’s not polite to stare. I’m sure the lady isn’t quite ready so soon after her husbands tragic death, besides not like you have the ability to do anything about it.” 

He shook and you narrowed your eyes in confusion with a tilt of your head, you felt the need to vomit once more as the potion swam through your stomach like it had for days now. Leaving you once more, Ramsay had to pull him away when he took half a second too long to part from your eyes. The dungeons fell quiet and dark once more and your mind only had enough time to feel even more confused until your stomach forced more burning up. 

“And Theon? I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. Then I’ll take his head myself.” 

Collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain, you curled up with your knees back against your chest. The hurt and betrayal on his face that day, the way only you seemed to give him any peace as you both stood unified in what he commanded. But this was no longer such a day, such a time. 

The blue eyes you wanted to see were darker then those pale ones, and with an adoration you wanted to scream at. Robb didn’t want this for you, Theon. Neither of us did, you thought. You demanded justice at Robb’s side, but this was not justice. 

If what you were holding back cries of pain for was not justice, you couldn’t imagine what found it’s way into his terror to make Theon Greyjoy look as frail and petrified as you felt. 

He was fighting to call himself one or the other. Reek was screeching in his head that he would be punished for this, but Theon kept climbing the stairs anyways. It was quite late, and he was already under orders to bring you a meal but he was not given orders to speak to you. So why was he walking down and fighting to not do so?

Walk in, open the gate, sit the food down and return like Reek was ordered to do, but as he stood outside the cell door, it was like for a moment Theon screamed at him and sent Reek down past his consciousness. Voice stammering and weak did he mutter your name, he did it twice and maybe if he had to do it a third he would chicken out and leave. But you looked. 

Sat against the wall with your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them and your head tucked in the middle, you rose up and it was clear as day the tears. Theon wasn’t sure he’s ever seen you cry. Very few would have and you were good at keeping it to yourself, but then again, Theon was good at many things Reek was not. 

Placing a small vial on the ground before moving to sit the tray beside you. He couldn’t even stammer out the words before you huffed out another tearful cry and kicked the tray from you. Sending him back in a jump. The way you looked up at him, who even were you on the inside? Did you not see yourself anymore as Theon saw Reek in his reflection? Had you even seen the state of yourself, eyes dulled to a weakness you’d never shown, eye still discoloured from where someone must have hit you and a flush to your skin that he knew came from having nothing in your system. 

What happened? How did it happen? How did Robb- 

He breathed out heavily as he snapped his head to attention. It poured out before he could stop himself from saying it. “I was wrong. I- I took Winterfell and I was wrong…” You said nothing. Your lips parted but closed once more with a heavy swallow. “I…” 

“Theon,” your voice was so quiet. Somewhere in his mind, he recalled the people called you the Silent Stag, always quiet you were but just as notable. But this quiet wasn’t that, this was a whisper that worried it was too loud even in the stone of a dungeon. “I..we didn’t- it’s my fault.” You inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for the action before opening them with a calmer look that refused to look at him. 

“I didn’t know they’d do this..any of this..and we sent them. I’m sorry.” 

Both inside him struggled how to feel, Reek had nothing to accept an apology for and yet Theon knelt forward to the ground. Crouching he slowly opened the vial with a shaky breathe before holding it to you. He wanted to speak and you could see it but neither pushed until he whispered it out like a deathly vow being broken as you drunk the liquid. “I didn’t kill them. Bran and Rickon. I didn’t kill them, I lied.” 

Your lips fell open as neither of you looked anywhere but between your bodies on the floor. “Roose Bolton killed Robb. Shoved a knife in his heart, and a few times in me.” Likely you didn’t know why you showed him, or even told him, but Theon’s breathing quickened as you lifted the fabric. The skin underneath was utterly blood soaked in ways he’d only ever seen on those of the dead. But why were they on you if you were here? “If that isn’t vengeance..”

Theon wanted to stay and talk, but Reek heard the sounds of footsteps far in the distance and tore himself back. “I-” He didn’t look you in the eye, he couldn’t at this point. “I’ll come back.” 

Your voice was far away, your eyes had lulled shut back into a dream of stringed nightmares as you muttered, “Of course you will. He’ll order you too.” 

Your nails were bloody, but you think it was starting to carve properly. The nothing drawing in the wall that kept you occupied for most of the day now. It was silent for a while once you were better, guards came to bring you a meal and then it was back into the quiet. There was no outside world here, no wars once fought, no lives trying to find peace, nothing. Just the walls of your cell, and the carving you were scraping into the stone wall. 

No sense of time came to you, it could have been years and you would be none the wiser of anything. Another war could have come and passed, not an inkling would’ve found you. You only saw the guards and the dungeon. You only dreamt of the blood and the strings as you awoke everytime knowing you failed him. 

Every attempt to come out into your soul was hollow, something was missing and it was part of what made you human. You could only see the curls against blue eyes that looked to you desperate not to see you go. It broke your heart everytime you saw him. 

The horror in your heart was settled somewhat in those final seconds, you would go together as you promised. From this day until our last day. And yet his last day was not yours, and you lived on without him. Guilt and shame ate away at you for breaking your vow to always be together, wherever his soul sat with the gods now you wondered if Robb was ashamed of you. 

You lived on without him, and you lost his unborn son. There was nothing left of Robb Stark with you anymore and the only proof he ever was, was a scar running so jaggedly along your lower stomach that you could feel each time Roose stabbed it back inside you. Tracing it gently enough with your fingers. A terrible stroke of luck, or was it the gods forcing it onto you?

Because the longer you sat in that silence alone, the more you came up with ways to fix it. What reason were you to still be here, why were you still alive if your existence was less then a rats. It wouldn’t be easy in here, but you could do it if you were really desperate. You wanted to the more weeks passed into months as you were alone down here. Shut away from the world, a dead wife to the King in the North, sequestered down in a dingy cell in the Dreadfort. Captive of the family who did this to you, and nothing to do but think of how much Robb would hate what you’ve become. 

This shell was not the woman he fell in love with, and you weren’t entirely sure you could even get that woman back now. Maybe part of you really did die beside him, and what remains in your body now is just the base of grief and anger that will burn through you until you’ve had enough. 

The gods were cruel however. The day he came to see you, it was the understanding of why they bothered to keep you alive. A confident man, Roose Bolton walked up to your cell with the same collected look he has had since the day you met him. Glancing around the cell, he could see you made very little use of the space, as if always having to be positioned against the bars to see the opening of the main door.

“I assume by now you realize no one is coming for you.” Your eyes glared up at him in a silent contemptuous irritation. “The Seven Kingdoms all think you’re dead. Tragically killed at the side of your husband-”

“They know you’re the one who put a knife to him? Or have you let Walder Frey take all of the credit for that?” Roose raised an eyebrow at you, unexpected of the sharp and angry tone that came from an otherwise unwell prisoner. “Suppose it isn’t really you who the southerners care about anyways. You get to claim you killed an unarmed King, and his pregnant wife when you only did it because you had Tywin Lannister to hide behind the skirts of.” 

Stepping forward to you, he looked down with ease as you craned your neck up to find his own, the anger in your voice did not match your eyes. “It is encouraging see you have put your time down here to good use. I kill Robb Stark and yourself, and in return I am given the title Warden of the North until the son of Sansa and Tyrion Lannister comes of age to take over. Unfortunately, there has been a problem in his planning.” 

You twisted your face at the unpleasant imagery.

“Sansa has fled King’s Landing after the murder of King Joffery, and her imp husband is to go on trial.” A year ago you would have been thrilled at the news that your repulsive once cousin was dead, now though it was a non victory that felt hollow. The world indeed kept turning outside the walls and you were none the wiser of a single tinge of it. “Sansa’s son by Tyrion was intended to be the key to the North for the Lannisters as they have no other ties, now there is no child to inherit the North from me.” 

Biting your tongue, you exhaled harshly through your nose to will the angry beating of your heart down to something manageable. “Did you come here to gloat about your new title or did you just want to remind me of what you’ve done.” 

“My men are reclaiming what’s left of the Ironborn that stands in the road to Winterfell, and we will soon move there once my son has cleared the way. You will be coming with us. Willingly.” 

Your voice scratched as you huffed a laugh, “And do tell, my lord. Why would I ever go with you willingly?” You watched as he knelt in front of you, and the frustration in your voice did not match how you pressed yourself against the wall further. 

With every inch of your body you hated the quiet calm in his voice as he nodded to your attire. “Because if you do, I will make sure you are cleaned, properly fed, groom you up and dress you like a lady and not like that creature my son drags around. You won’t be able to leave the castle walls, or go anywhere outside without being under guard. But I won’t throw you back into a cell.” 

Not a thought came to you that imagined yourself like that anymore. Your life was drenched in blood and memories of pain that blurred out the rest in it’s grief. Would you feel more like a person to even just breathe fresh air? Was that worth playing along with the man who betrayed his people and murdered your king and child? 

Roose did not wait for any kind of response, moving towards the cell door when you asked, “Why? If I’m just a prisoner why bring me to Winterfell? No one even knows I’m alive, what would it matter if you keep me locked away in here?”

The blood inside you cooled to a freeze as you looked wide eyed with a hesitant fear that you know he caught onto. “If Ramsay is successful in retaking Moat Cailin, he will be granted a legitimate son and become a Bolton. The Lannisters won’t help me keep the North, but perhaps I don’t need them to. All the Stark men are dead, which means if Ramsay is a Bolton, he will be my firstborn son and heir. And he will be needing one of his own.” 

Roose didn’t elaborate but he didn’t need to. You almost begun to bite your tongue so hard on unknowing it could have bled. You felt sick as you had days ago, but this was an illness rooted in a fear and bloody memories of your last. “You truly think I would ever let him-” 

One eyebrow raised, his voice was patronizing as it was condescending. “Do you think you have any choice in the matter? Shall I reminder you how it is the world works?” 

You glared up with as much energy as you could summon, a sneer on your own face as you sharply bit back, “Do use small words, my lord. I’m not as bright as you.” 

You didn’t expect it to even effect him in the slightest. He rarely budged on anything, especially now when it is was he holds all the power. “You are a highborn lady, and if my son should succeed he will be a legitimate highborn to inherit my own lordship. You are also my prisoner, and I don’t think I need to remind you of my own stance on prisoner treatment. Ramsay doesn’t need your permission to use you to produce an heir.”

Do not show anything else you told yourself, do not let him see the fear in your heart. “I’m not a Northerner, Lord Bolton. I have no claim that could help you.” 

A lightness in his eyes was the most genuine you had seen in since that night and you felt even more ill thinking on it. “No, but you were the Queen that Robb Stark chose, you were the Queen every Northern chose, my lady. That is claim enough for what we require.” 

By the time you found any bravery left in your voice you called out to him before he could leave you alone in the darkness of the dungeon once more. “Did you ever believe in him? Or was it all just a lie the entire time? You served him for almost three years, was none of it ever true?” 

Roose sounded as if he was giving a simple order to a servant, no care for his monstrosity. “I believed in Robb Stark right up until I shoved my dagger covered in your blood into his chest. But loyalty does not buy me money or power, and Tywin Lannister simply had the better offer.” The dagger sat on his waist, blood for you to see and all. You’d felt many illnesses down here, but it was that which made you loose every sense left to you. 

The door closed and once more you were left in darkness. You weren’t sure when the tears had started, but this time you let them fall until your eyes dried out like sands in the Dornish summer. 

You should have died with Robb, and you truly were beginning to think it was necessary to find a way to go back to him, one way or another. He had told you once you in those days before your wedding that you belonged in Winterfell, but what was your belonging in such a place without the wolves to keep you company?

The gods granted you a chilling answer to that question when some time later, they sent Ramsay Bolton down to your cell in the middle of the night, a disturbing glint in his unsettling pale eyes trained only on you. 

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART TWELVE

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: The day before Wyatt's birthday brings you a series of information on Jack you didn't expect, revealing he was a lot more broken than you thought

(This is the twelfth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO ELEVEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: angst, hurt, mentions of depression, mentions of implied suicide attempt, fluff, mom!reader

A/N: This was a difficult chapter because it ended up being a lot more angsty than I intended, but it felt right to the story, I hope you besties enjoy it ❤️🥺

4.1k words

You bit your lips as you took the road that led you to Jack's ranch. You felt an anxiety creeping up your chest, at the same time Wyatt couldn't take his excitement of going back to his papa's house. It was going to be a big weekend for your baby boy: his birthday party happening on Saturday on the ranch for the very first time. It was a huge event for Wyatt as kids are absolutely obsessed with their birthdays and for Jack too, being the first birthday he'd get to spend with his boy. Not only that, for the first time, his ranch would welcome a party and be filled with people, kids running around, music, laughter and everything Jack's lonely heart had ever wished for since the moment he'd bought that ranch.

Jack had asked you to go on Friday afternoon, he had a surprise for Wyatt and he would like for his son to be able to enjoy it before the party, so there wouldn't be too many kids wanting to play too and stealing his thunder. 

For the past two weeks, you'd been in contact all the time, for visiting as your son and his dad couldn't stay away from each other, growing attached each passing day and because you and him needed to plan the party. Jack had assured you all you needed to do was to decide decoration, food, and pick any other details and he would make it happen, regardless of how much it would cost. He was willing to make your son's little dreams come true and he wasn't going to spare any money. 

However, as the co-parenting part was going great, your relationship with Jack was someone else. After that morning at your apartment, he just took his distance from you; he was physically there several times during the week, playing and spending time with Wyatt and planning the details of the party with you, buying the three of you dinner from your favorite places or ice cream for dessert, he was still kind, generous and polite, but he was emotionally distant from you, understanding that you didn't want anything to do with that old cowboy. So now he respectfully addressed you by your name and only that, no sugar, sweetheart or darling, he was keeping respectful. He also hadn't mentioned anything related to his love life nor yours, so you had no idea if he tried Tinder again or going on any dates, the thought still bothering you even if you tried acting like it didn't, but it also puzzled you that Jack hadn't said anything about Frankie either. It didn't take big brains to assume the cowboy hated the pilot and vice versa, but you expected Jack to go full maniac and have someone at Statesman get a hold of Frankie's classified file or criminal records and whatever, and your guess was that Frankie was clean, otherwise Jack would've said something already. Sometimes you thought Jack's reaction was an exaggeration but overall it felt reassuring to know he would do his best to keep you and Wyatt safe. 

As for you and Frankie, things were… slow. He had some jobs to do here and there and you were quite thankful for that, it's not that you didn't want Frankie anymore, but you thought that maybe you and him weren't on the same page anymore, or perhaps you never were and your whole relationship was just a way to try and run away from the haunting ghost that was your former relationship with Jack Daniels. You had even invited Frankie to the party - especially after Jack gave you a free hand to do whatever you wanted to - because you thought it would be nice for him to bring his daughter Melissa along. She was a year older than Wyatt and though you'd never met her just as Frankie had never met your son, you assumed it would be cool, it was another kid for your son to play with on his special day. 

Wyatt was a giggly mess, not containing himself as he couldn't wait to see his daddy and play on the ranch. You felt your heart warming with love, at your son's happiness, having his daddy around was essential for his blossoming into a more extrovert and confident child. 

You parked in front of the ranch, finding it odd Jack's bronco wasn't there, but instead of overthinking things, you helped Wyatt unbuckle and get out of the car. You held his little hand as you walked inside, but he immediately ran away at the same time Helen welcomed you with a hug. She was so glad to see you and your son again, and especially after she learned you and Jack were on good terms, even if it meant you were friends and nothing more, it was good to see Jack smile, go back to riding his horses, excited about things once more, from one who watched him from afar, it seemed he went back to life, after getting his family back. 

"Dada???" Wyatt squealed at the top of his little lungs once he got into the house, he thought it was odd for him not to welcome them, but his attention was immediately shifted to the coffee table, where he was the most adorable horse action figures he'd seen. Helen smiled at him "you're daddy is at work, but he left these horses for you" she explained as Wyatt rushed to the table, sitting on the floor and immediately began playing with them "did you know your daddy was your size when he played with his little horses? His mama found the box she kept them and sent it over to your daddy, so he could give it to you" Helen explained to your son in her gentle voice, while her hand ran through his soft curls. Wyatt smiled widely, so entertained by the toy, and no matter if the action of time was visible, he fell in love with each little horse of the set. It was a simple one, and you could have a small glimpse into Jack's humble but also very happy childhood, and suddenly a suffocating need to see your cowboy appeared. As if Helen read your mind, she smiled "Jack is back at Statesman, he went to hand out some invitations for tomorrow, but he shouldn't take long" 

You nodded and followed her into the kitchen, knowing your son would be quietly playing by himself and accepting Helen's cup of tea. 

"A penny for your thoughts?" She tilted her head and chuckled at your frowned expression "I can see something is going on in this pretty little head of yours, honey and I know it has to do with a certain cowboy…" 

Your cheeks heated up immediately and you looked around a little embarrassed to see you were too easy to read, or perhaps Jack told her everything that happened, it wouldn't be too surprising if he had, as he often got very chatty once he drank a lot, and Helen played the role of friend very often too, whenever she didn't have to act like Jack's mother at his irresponsible behavior. 

"What has he told you about the latest events?" You raised your eyebrow and let the woman make an account of what Jack had told her about his attempt of going on a date and everything else that happened after that. "...He was very upset when he got home that morning, I assumed he had done something bad, but I see he was just feeling rejected; though I can see you aren't looking like a million bucks either, so I'm guessing the situation messed up with the two of you"

"I just don't know what to do anymore, Helen… I try so hard to fight my feelings for Jack, but they're still so strong, even after everything he did to me, I can't help but love him. But at the same time I'm scared of giving into this love, how can I trust him? He even talked about trying for a little sister for Wyatt, but Helen, how can I get pregnant with his child after everything he did to me?" You said as your eyes were full of tears, you were just too confused and scared of what things would be like, of what people would talk about if you ever decided to give in and try things with Jack. 

"Y/N!" Helen chuckled "you are overthinking things right now… a baby? Sure, that's a situation to think about, but no one is asking you to jump into that right now… Jack is asking you for a chance! A chance of taking you on a date, of showing you he can take care of you and Wyatt and that you will be happy with him" Helen took your hand and caressed it happy "Jack loves you and Wyatt, he's a man who really loves his family and I know he's done some real bad shit, but he's proving to you he's turning into a better person, isn't he?" She smiled as you nodded and bit your lips "no one is telling you to jump right into his bed, but let him in, you want him to get near too, don't you? Give him a chance, spend the weekend with him, feeling what it would be like to be an actual family with your cowboy" Helen smiled but a shadow crossed her face as something dark flickered in her eyes and she cleared her throat "I'm sorry if I seem insisting, I don't mean to make you embarrassed but I just worry about Jack so much… but ever since you walked into his life… Well, ever since he walked back into your lives and you accepted him, he has improved, you know? Because he was bad…" 

"Yeah, I know… he told me about the mission and all" you always felt sad when you thought about that, looking at Helen and seeing how she went serious 

"What about before the mission? Did he tell you what happened?" 

"No… what else happened? Did he get hurt?" You gulped, as your anxiety was increasing by the minute you realized the subject was even more serious than you thought. Helen sighed and got up, going to the kitchen window and checking to see if Jack's bronco wasn't there, she knew he wouldn't forgive her if he overheard her telling you what had happened.

"You have to promise me you're not gonna say anything to him at all, please, he's gonna be really angry if he knows I told you… he doesn't like talking about that at all" 

"I-I promise, now please Helen, tell me already, you're making me anxious…" 

The older woman sighed and rubbed the back of her head "Jack's behavior had been really erratic, especially the months before he decided to finally go after you and Wyatt. I noticed he seemed to be more and more depressed, as he was dwelling into his loneliness and guilt, and that's when the heavy drinking began. I mean, you do know he drinks, but it wasn't just his usual drink, it was more, and he was mixing up alcohol too, something I had never seen him do… he's a classy man, and he likes whiskey and that's about it" 

She took a breath and served the two of you some more tea, taking a longer sip and swallowing slowly, before she could talk again 

"And with the drinking, it also came the dangerous behavior… it was first the driving and drinking, he had always been extra careful with that, but suddenly, it was like it didn't really matter anymore to him, he would just get drunk and speed up whenever he needed to leave home. Then we had the horse incident… Jack decided to ride one weekend, he hadn't been around his horses very much, and especially not Silver Pony and I guess it's because it reminded him of you, but still, he went riding and he didn't get his saddle correct and he fell from the horse, and Y/N, you know Jack and how good he is at horseback riding, you know he wouldn't simply forget to fix his saddle. Well, he fell from the horse and the doctor said it was a miracle he hadn't broken any bones and if he had hit his head in the fall…" Helen sighed and watched as you looked at her in horror, your eyes wide at what you had just started learning from him. You had no idea until what extent he was broken, but that made you hurt in a way it was impossible to explain. 

"And there was this evening I called him because dinner was ready, but he wasn't answering. It was just odd, Jack isn't the kind of guy to ignore, so I went to his room and I found him passed out… He'd washed down some sleeping pills with whiskey and god… I don't even like to think what would've happened. Of course he denies it and says it's an accident, but when the Statesman forced him to go to therapy, I sighed relieved, and when he first came back home after spending time with you and Wyatt and I saw the beautiful smile in his face, I prayed so hard he would find his way in life, and of course I know you're not a savior and it's not obligation to save anyone, but it's important to know you have such positive effect on him, and well, if you two are meant to be, there's really no other way out of this, you'll stay together" 

By the time Helen was finished telling you those things, you realized your tears were running down your cheeks; you sniffled and tried to wrap your head around the fact that if it weren't for fate, or a little divine intervention, your cowboy Jack, would be dead by then. It was a suffocating feeling, there wasn't a loss, but the mere prospect of it was enough to make your stomach swirl and your chest get too heavy to breathe. 

"Dada!!!" Your son's voice was enough to break the spell you were under and you quickly dried your tears as best as you could, being able to hear Jack's heavy boots walking and his voice cheering and talking to Wyatt. You and Helen looked at each other and you tried your best to pretend you hadn't been talking about Jack for the past half an hour, as he walked into the kitchen, he politely greeted you and at that moment you knew you'd give everything to hear him call you sugar.

The cowboy was carrying Wyatt in his arms and tickling his tummy, loving to hear his happy giggles, but frowned immediately as he saw your crying face 

"What happened?" He asked concerned and took a step closer, 

"Uh, nothing… I was telling Helen about my mom" you mouthed the end of the sentence so Wyatt wouldn't be curious or wouldn't get upset at the mention of his grandma "she's not coming to the party because I didn't invite her after what happened…" you added to your half lie, as you hadn't invited her at all especially because she would give you shit about letting Jack throw the party and also because you were sure she would end up screwing up the party to one of you, if not to everyone. 

Jack bought your excuse as he felt sad to know you were having problems with your mom, of course he still felt guilty about that, but he was aware that you have always had problems with her, so it's not like it'd started just because of him. Yet, the cowboy took a step closer and took his hand to your face, his thumb wiping the last tear that insisted on rolling down your cheek. 

"I'm sorry about that, sugar, but pretty girls like yourself shouldn't cry… ain't that right Wyatt? Don't you think that pretty girls like mama shouldn't cry?" He talked to your son, who joined the conversation excitedly, at the same time you leaned into Jack's touch, before he could shy away. 

There it was: sugar. 

You had no idea how much you'd missed that until you heard it again from his lips after weeks of awkwardness around each other. You didn't think twice before wrapping your arms around Whiskey and burying your face into his chest you sniffed into his scent and playfully nibbled your son's little legs, making him squealed in pure happiness. You felt the cowboy's arms wrapping around your body and keeping you in that embrace, his family's embrace. 

You looked up at Jack's puzzled face and smiled big at him 

"I guess I missed you" you rested your head against his chest once more and felt when his lips pecked the top of your head, and chuckled when Wyatt did the same, imitating his daddy in being an authentic southern gentleman.

                             •••

Jack had kindly asked Helen to set things out in the backyard so he could grill his famous burger for dinner. He knew you used to love them when you were together and he was hoping his son would also take a liking to it as well, but first, he was overly excited to show the two of you, Wyatt's birthday gift. He wanted it to be a day before his actual birthday so the other kids wouldn't make a fuss about it and he could play calmly. He called you to follow them, placing his own stetson back on and handed Wyatt's small one. You felt kind of disappointed Jack didn't have one for you, after all, he had said he would get you a hat too, but you felt sad to realize he probably assumed you'd been just joking. He guided you towards the stables, Wyatt was very excited, his arms wrapped tight around Jack's neck and little eyes widening the second he spotted the new farm fence right next to the horses. You were also extremely curious to know what the cowboy had come up to your baby. 

"Do you know how to read?" He asked Wyatt who shook his head a little confused as he stared into a sign at the gate of the dence, Jack smiled sweetly at him "then papa's gonna teach you. Look!" He pointed at the W and his fingers followed the sequence

"W… Y… A… T… T…" He read out loud "Wyatt's ranch, that's what it says baby boy, it's your ranch" Jack explained to him excitedly with a shit eating grin, opening the gate and pulling Wyatt down the moment he spotted the pony his daddy got for him.

The little boy felt he was going simply insane, as his present was also his new best friend, he immediately hugged the little pony which was very gentle and easy going towards kids. He loved how the pony looked like a tiny little version of Silver Pony and he looked up at his parents, his eyes had happy tears, being so emotional to have the best birthday of his little life. Your son clung to you and Jack, and sobbed happy tears, at the same time he giggled when the pony nudged his hand gently. He sniffled and leaned into his daddy's soothing touch, who dried his tears and smiled

"W-what's the name daddy? Of my pony?" He managed to ask, and Jack chuckled "she's yours, baby, you can pick whichever name you want" he caressed his soft curls and smiled at you. 

Wyatt nodded and caressed the pony cute head, thinking very hard as he looked at you "she looks like Silvew Pony, mommy…" he said melting your heart, so you just nodded and stroked his cheek "yes she does… maybe Silver Pony is the mommy and she is the daughter" you suggested, knowing it wasn't possible but for Wyatt's innocent head it made so much sense he gasped. He held her head gently and looked into her eyes, showing how good he was at handling animals, again, another trait inherited from his dad senior agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels 

"Silvew Staw" he said proudly. 

You didn't know exactly how long you and Jack spent watching Wyatt play with Silver Star, but it didn't matter as your little boy was thrilled. He was so happy and wouldn't stop giggling and cuddling the pony, kind of treating her like a puppy, while you and Jack took turns between watching and playing along. When evening came, Jack said it was time for dinner, though Wyatt didn't want to leave Silver Star, which caused the three of you to take the pony back to the house and let Wyatt play with her while Jack worked on grilling his burgers. Helen had set everything up, and your heart clenched as you saw she'd placed everything you loved, your favorite bread, your favorite sauces and fries too, knowing how much you loved when the cowboy made his burgers or steak.

You held Wyatt who sat on your lap exhausted and downed a box of apple juice, as he watched his dad make dinner. You could tell your son was tired but extremely happy as he couldn't stop smiling. You snuggled him and rested your chin on his head, loving how warm your son was. You could tell he was hungry but he was so tired he didn't even seem to notice. 

You on the other hand, nearly salivated the moment Jack served you your burger, you ate it so quickly, savoring each bite and not one single bit embarrassed about your satisfied moans, Jack thought it was quite amusing and couldn't stop watching you, feeling happy at that moment of pure domesticity, he extended his hand and placed it above yours, stroking it gently, you bit your lips at the realization of how big his hand was and what they were capable of doing. He pointed at the lawn and the two of you laughed softly as you saw Wyatt and Silver Star napping on the grass together. The toddler was snuggling his pony and that made you very happy.

You looked back at Jack and took his hand again 

"Thank you, for everything… Today's been wonderful and it's already the best birthday he's ever had, even if his birthday is technically tomorrow… and his present is amazing" 

He chuckled and caressed your knuckles with his thumb "anything for our son, sugar and anything for you too, all you gotta do is ask" 

"I know you were there Jack" you suddenly said and he frowned in confusion "the day I gave birth to our son, I know you'd been there, in the hospital… I saw you, you went there to see us, but I was too feverish to say anything and in the morning my mom assured me I had hallucinated" you sighed sadly and Jack immediately left his chair and sat next to you. 

You looked into his eyes and there it was, his soft, teary eyes, full of hurt and regret, but at the same time making you see he was still your Jack, your cowboy

"I-I tried holding Wyatt, I really did, but your mom told me not to, she said you'd given orders to specifically not let me get near Wyatt" he swallowed "I'm sorry I didn't insist more, maybe if I had held our son, I wouldn't have left, hell, I'm sure I wouldn't have left, I'm sorry Y/N, I know that you will never forgive me and I know I'm not worthy of your forgiveness but I wish I could show you I mean business when I say I want you and Wyatt, I want to make things right between us and our son" he said in his desperate way once more, even after he had vowed not to beg for you any longer. 

You stroked his cheek "I'm confused and I know I make you confused too, Jack, we're like cat and mouse now, I wish I could just take a decision and stick to it, I wish I could be rational with my feelings, but feelings are never rational" you said "the rational thing would be moving on from each other, me finding a nice guy to rebuild my life and you finding yourself a new sugar, someone you can give yourself fully into your relationship now that your late family is behind you, but we both know this is not possible" 

You blinked some of your tears "I wanna try if you wanna try, Jack… I wanna believe and have faith in you, so I guess I want a chance for us to see if we can still be a family, but I also need some time, I need to talk to Frank-" 

Jack interrupted you by placing a peck on your lips, he didn't even want to hear you mention that other guy's name. He thought his heart would burst out of his chest at any minute, it was like his dream was coming true. 

"I don't want to just jump into your bed Jack, I want us to do things right, restart, get to know each other again, because we are different people after everything that happened… all I'm trying to say is: will you be patient with me?" 

"I'll do anything for you, sugar" he leaned towards you and kissed your lips, as you two decided to take a step together towards the future.

____

A/N: Hi besties, did you like the chapter? I hope so ❤️ Whiskey is the best dad in the world or what? And for a brief moment I considered making him also gift reader with a baby goat because 🤏🤏🤏

[gabessquishytum]

Pardon me if this gets weird.

Boxer!Dream is getting up in years. He isn't old enough yet to retire, but he's slowing down. He isn't as fast anymore. When Burgess pays him over five mil to throw a fight, despite being undefeated currently, he can't say no. That's life changing money at stake! All it'll cost him is his pride.

The fight doesn't go as expected. He ends up accidentally killing the guy in the ring. It was so easy. One punch across the side of his temple was all it took.

But now he's pissed off the wrong mobster. He sneaks out the back, mercifully missing most of the mobsters who came bursting into his locker room.

He can't go back to his apartment. To do so would be suicide. He can't leave town just yet as the money is with his agent. If Lucienne knew where he was, then they could take her hostage or torture her. So he waits. He books a cheap hotel and waits for the heat to die down before collecting the money.

What he doesn't know is Roderick's already sent a soldier after him. A loyal capo known only as the Immortal, since he's performed over a dozen hits and has never been caught or killed yet. His friends call him Hob.

A few days after the fight, Dream is heading down to Lucienne's office to collect the money and his box office cut. It's too much money to lose and he needs it to escape the country. But unfortunately, Hob sees him going down the street and attacks him in broad daylight. They fight pretty aggressively until they stumble into the wrong shop.

Cori is a well-known associate of Lucifer. He's the muscle of their organization and has a long-standing grudge against Hob for stealing his contracts. He only knows Dream bc he's been spying on Burgess and knows the old man will pay handsomely for his head. So he breaks up the fight at gun point and kidnaps the both of them, leaving them tied to chairs in the shops basement. He calls a few associates.

Dream doesn't know what he's in for, but Hob does. He knows whatever that sick bastard has planned for them will not be pleasant. They only have one chance at this. They have to escape together.

However, Hob knows that once he returns without Dream in a body bag, he might as well put a gun to his own head. Burgess does not suffer fools lightly. So he proposes a deal. Dream takes Hob with him.

- 🤜 anon

OHHH enemies to lovers!! Hell yeah!! Hob might be tough (he is) but Dream has been fighting underground for most of his life, and Hob almost gets his ass handed to him. So at least he knows that Dream can more than hold his own. They might just be able to escape together, if they can stop kicking each other for half a minute.

They do break out of their ropes (it's at this point that Hob starts making bondage jokes, and Dream starts rolling his eyes). Dream has his fists and Hob has a very sharp little knife that Cori didnt manage to take off him, and via a lot of pushing and shoving and standing on each others shoulders, they climb out of the skylight and start running. There's no real plan, except getting the money and getting the hell out. They mutually decide that Hob should go to Lucienne for the money and bring her back with him. Mostly because he's got a better chance of defending her, but also because if anyone is watching the office then Dream will definitely be shot on sight. He gives Hob his ruby signet ring to show Lucienne, and heads to try and find a ride out of town.

Delirium agrees to give Dream a lift, and he waits with her anxiously in a parking garage. Apparently she also owns a gun, so at least they have that. Finally Lucienne and Hob show up, and Hob is gripping his side but everyone seems to be okay! Time to get the hell out of there!

And just on time too, because Cori and his associates are chasing them down. Delirium drives like a maniac, Lucienne is leaning out and shooting their pursuers and Dream is like "Hob, can you DO something?!" And Hob is like "give me a second, I kind of got shot back at the office!"

He'll be fine. Probably. They don't call him the Immortal for nothing. And he promised Dream that they'd have another fight, preferably in a proper ring next time. So he can't die.

Especially not when Dream is starting to look so pretty.

[wintersbitterfly]

see me like no other | sana & tzuyu (pt. 2 of cool with you)

genre: angst

pairing: sana x tzuyu

setting: highschool au

content warnings: you, the reader is dead, suicide, threats to do harm, manipulation, sana is toxic and a sociopath

song: cool with you by newjeans

chou tzuyu was an absolute mess.

she couldn’t sleep.

every time she closed her eyes she just saw you falling off the rooftop to your death. having so many nightmares.

she was traumatized to say the least.

and she couldn’t even tell anyone.

she couldn’t say the truth.

when the police arrived at the scene, her and sana were already down at the school entrance. more like sana rushing tzuyu down and out of the school so they weren’t caught.

more so sana wasn’t caught.

the older girl knew tzuyu so well. she knows tzuyu wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret hidden that she had murdered you.

so, she only had to do what she had to.

“if you say anything to anyone, you will end up like y/n.”

tzuyu was truly afraid of sana at this very moment, so she did what she was told.

she kept her mouth shut.

sana explained to the police in fake crocodile tears that you were on the roof, talking about how you didn’t want to live anymore.

unfortunately, her and tzuyu were too late before you fell to your death.

a few months have passed since that day, and tzuyu wasn’t close to even being okay.

tzuyu sits in her classes. she can barely focus. the chattering of classmates is drowned out by her thoughts.

all the while sana remained as if nothing had happened.

“are you doing okay?” sana asks.

tzuyu remained silent.

sana smiles and leans against the younger girl, before whispering in her ear, “don’t forget what i said.”

she was definitely crazy, tzuyu thought.

time felt like it was moving slow for the girl, and she just couldn’t get a good night’s rest.

her eyes dropping from sleep deprivation, only for them to snap awake whenever she saw your face.

it was worse when she saw you when she was awake.

tzuyu turns her head and she swears you’re standing right there at the doorway of the classroom.

looking at her with sadden eyes.

the guilt eats at tzuyu so much, though she had no fault in the matter. she didn’t know what sana’s intentions were.

maybe she wouldn’t ever know.

eating lunch, tzuyu saw you sitting next to her, with a sadden stare.

riding on the subway home from school, she sees you, sitting a few feet away.

while she’s in her room doing homework, you watch her through the mirror and when she sees you, tears leave her eyes whimpering and sobbing about how sorry she was.

kept saying how she should’ve helped you, how she shouldn’t have been so blind, how she shouldn’t have trusted sana in the first place.

the stupid police fell for sana’s act, and no justice was served for you.

tzuyu’s guilt she could no longer take as she lies awake crying every night.

so then, she did what felt right.

“minatozaki sana pushed l/n y/n off the roof.” tzuyu told the police anonymously.

this spreads around quickly as kids and adults were wondering who made the phone call to the police, and if sana was really the culprit.

tzuyu was already in deep fire along with sana after that phone call, and she had to avoid the older girl at all costs.

maybe, choosing the high road wouldn’t be so bad.

tzuyu cried as she looks down at the letter she wrote for her friends and family.

she couldn’t even live with herself anymore.

putting the letter down on the surface of the concrete, tzuyu stands where you last stood on the rooftop of the school.

“p-please forgive m-me.” she whispers.

she closed her eyes and stepped forward, falling and falling until everything turned black.

sana watched tzuyu fall off the ledge as the police were putting her in handcuffs with an expressionless face.

turns out sana was right; tzuyu would end up like you did.

[loremaster]

rain code dlc thoughts

watched em all (spoilers obviously)

desuhiko:

can't believe this guy literally tried flirting with a child. he has gone unchecked for too long. we need to beat him up

enyne is good. i would love to see her in a cool thief outfit

not worth $5

fubuki:

the interactions between the detectives were cute. but i wish she'd gotten a chance to shine more on her own

it was kind of aggravating how slow they solved the mystery though. all that wondering about what the numbers could possibly mean... y'all the die was right there

not worth $5

halara:

kind of a shame that this one was the only actual investigative one. it was great!!! i liked the mystery setup and i liked figuring out how the culprit pulled it off even if the identity of the culprit was obvious the moment he showed up

"Good girl, Sugar" lololololol

good to know halara can be bought with cats instead of shien. love that yakou's totally onto their shit

and the cat they have a picture of is REAL!!! IT'S NOT A RANDOM JPG FROM THE INTERNET (WHICH I HAD ASSUMED)

worth $5

vivia:

i love how before it came out we were all like "please... one conversation with yakou... even just a mention of him would be okay" and then we got hit with a flaming rainbow fist #LoveWins

vivia all like "i wish i had something in this world to care about" and yakou literally forcing open the doors to his cold dead heart in response

the way he keeps flashing back to all the little things yakou has done to care for him... vivia you can't deny the truth anymore. you can't run from these gay thoughts

fellas is it gay to be another man's reason for living? (only if you share an umbrella)

for those who don't know, sharing an umbrella is like the most romantic thing you can do in japan. the only way this could have been more explicitly textually gay is if one of them pointed out how beautiful the moon was.

where's my Melt amv

'i'll enjoy the scenery along the way' *yakou seductively swaying his hips back and forth* HELLO???????????????????????

i hope after that is when vivia finally agrees to that dinner date

honestly up until now i've been very attached to the idea of vivia being head over heels for yakou the whole time and yakou not ever really noticing but now???? my god. this chief really can bisexual

speaking of bi i'm also not opposed to the idea of vivia/ryo... them both being like 'i'm interested in you' 'i'm interested in you too' oh are you now? hmmmm...

and they were both ghosts (oh my god they were ghosts)

I was saying to my friends while we were playing it that it makes sense the first suicide was 5 years ago, before the blank week incident... because otherwise she wouldn't have been a ghost at all, just a walking corpse

loved that line btw. 'all humans are just walking corpses' good news vivia, you're among peers here in kanai ward

worth $5. i mean technically since vivia/yakou dlcs are bundled together (gaaaay) it only cost $2.50 so it's extra worth it.

the amount of fanfiction that will inevitably come out of this is worth way more than $5

yakou:

his hips still do the little wiggle even as a zombie. can't slay the sashay away <3

him thinking of all the other detectives.... UUU....

yuma's flashback is from ch5 after yakou's already dead (but clearly there's still enough of him left...)

desuhiko's... is it from the dlc? idk. he said "i won't cause any problems" and then went on to cause many problems

halara's scene from the dlc is clearly a moment that made a big impression on yakou LMFAO... i mean if halara nightmare sat in MY chair it would make an impression on me too :flushed:

fubuki's i'm pretty sure is from ch.4 as yakou is dying on the floor?? he must have felt so bad, hearing her cry so much while he was fading away and couldn't do anything about it... his last moments UUUUUU

vivia gets the FUCKING aforementioned umbrella scene. sad wet cat man. learning to accept kindness and finding something (someone) worth living for... the exact moment vivia falls in love with him lmfao. and this is the moment that sticks out in yakou's zombie brain. seeing someone in need and actually being able to reach out and help them (for once). ;_;

and then SHE!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEE

i shrieked when i saw her

mad she STILL doesn't have a name but oh man. i love her. i mean i already loved her when i saw the labcoat + turtleneck combo but the GLASSESSSSSS. and her VOICE AARGGGHHH they picked the perfect va for her

She must've given him the glasses while she was still alive, since he's the one wearing them in The Photo. good call, he looks naked without them

and now we really understand why yakou is as pitifully broke as he is, because he can't bring himself to make the corrupt choice that screws over innocent people for the sake of money. love that for him. he suffers so much for the sake of his city

very funny that he couldn't recognize his childhood friend (i'm assuming she recognized him immediately from across the room lmao). love the idea that she's trans. they're t4t your honor

she asked the most useless man to be her bodyguard but we all know who's protecting whom lmao

i feel like she must have been the one who proposed to him. or at least knowingly coaxed him into it haha

AND THE BADGE... UUUUUU.... and her ghost led him to it.... she had such an important job to do...

need to see vivia talk to her now. ghost 2 ghost communication. yakou simp 2 yakou simp

i think she would tell yakou to go kiss that goth boy silly

and most importantly... the medicine. the research... her dream lives on... i thought it was stupid that makoto literally cancelled everything about the homunculus research - sure they didn't need to make any more but how about research into alternate diets? or uv protection beyond like. sunscreen. WHAT ABOUT HER RESEARCH MAKOTO. PLEASE

so the existence of a possible cure for zombie homunculus begs the question... what's next for yakou? we thought his story was done but turns out it's far from yakouver, bitches. he's coming back one way or another.

what will he do with this magical macguffin - bring it to somewhere they can analyze it and duplicate it, or just take the pill himself? how complete is this untested theoretical cure? will yakou Come Back Wrong? is he gonna struggle to speak? (though that'd be a waste of kaiji tang)... is he gonna struggle with the urge to, you know, eat human flesh? i think that would be pretty hot cool

of course there's the chance it won't work at all. or will just straight up kill him, speedrun to reuniting with dead wife

definitely worth $5. or $2.50.

but at the same time since it actually does continue the main plot of rain code in an interesting way (or hint at it) i think they should bundle it with the main game instead of vivia's dlc

i mean if i had it my way they'd ALL be free but... i get it. they gotta gauge popularity somehow (and pay the devs/vas for extra work)

anyway. i should be working on homework but no. this game has absolutely ruined me

[meet-me-backstage]

⎈

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞���� 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ⎈ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🦇 Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🦇 You get dragged into the unfathomable events at Starcourt Mall by your hopeless crush on Billy Hargrove and new-found middle-schooler friends. You struggle to cope with the trauma, which gradually costs you your popular cheerleader reputation when you return to high school for senior year. Though this loss first appears to be the end of the world, you learn that there's worse things than levelling down in popularity.

Though even in darkness, there is always a light - for you this is Eddie Munson, who you gain an unlikely friendship in and fall for him in the process.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🦇 smoking, mention of and consumption of drugs, horror themes, violence (in the upside down and probs Steve losing another fight (•̀ᴗ•́)و jk jk he's king), mention of and consumption of alcohol, nightmares, mention of and a near death experience, death, bad language, blood, bullying, mention of vomit and vomiting, some domestic (mainly verbal and emotional) abuse(‼️), mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicide, mention of self-harm, allusion to eating disorder and smUUT so you have to be 18+ to read this series❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 🦇 4.1K words

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 🦇 bad language, mention of and consumption of alcohol.

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

🦇 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟒 🦇

It had been like most days recently, your mom was giving Rebecca a tough time. The last few years of high school hadn't gone to plan for her in the course of your parent's marriage being completely destroyed, which then led to their divorce and your dad to move into a trailer on the ‘shitty’ side of town - it all went downhill in her senior year, your sophomore year.

You didn't need to eavesdrop as you walk past your sister's room to hear that mom was lecturing her about how she needs to work ten times harder this year, just as she'd done every morning since term started.

You could picture it, Rebecca sitting on her bed in her extremely pink room filled with Hawkins High paraphernalia, mom standing over her with daggers in her eyes.

When you ran down the stairs, skipping a few on the way - mom had finished with Rebecca, she must've heard your feet stomping heavily, "No running!" She shouted and you immediately slow yourself and mutter, "Yeah, yeah." It's quiet downstairs, you can imagine dad reading the newspaper at the dining table - you can practically hear him now, ranting about the shortage of pumpkins due to them all rotting at the local pumpkin patch.

Rebecca zooms past you, picking up her lunch in the process before standing by the front door, "We're going to be late, little miss - quick," she cared way more about everything, almost too much and especially today because there is cheerleading practice to go to, you both are already wearing your cheer clothes.

"I'm coming!" You grab your pink lunchbox and skip towards Rebecca.

Not many words were spoken on the drive to school, mainly small talk that Rebecca wasn't entirely cooperating with. You stare out of the window, watching everything fly by until you suddenly thought of a way to at least annoy her into speaking, manipulative, you know.

You always have it with you, a cassette of your favorite album by Black Sabbath... it was one way of keeping Mason with you, in Hawkins.

He introduced you to their music... he'd put this tape in his stereo, you’d bang your heads to it and dance. It was so different to anything else you’d heard before.

He had a wide range of musical knowledge because it was his passion, you admired him for leaving Hawkins early to do what he loved regardless of the consequences... now, mom never mentions his name, it’s basically forbidden, she blames him for the way you turned out because he'd encourage you to be different, to be yourself.

He sends letters every month that mom throws away, but you sneak out of the house through your bedroom window to retrieve the letter from the trash and read them laying on your stomach in bed. He was currently in New York, playing drums for a band called 'Shotguns ‘n’ Studded Leather' with a part-time job at a record store.

Usually thinking of him would make you smile, but you knew that he'd be sad if he saw you abiding to mom's rules and had followed in the footsteps of your sister by joining the cheer team.

Your hands fumble through your pink shoulder bag, trying to find it, you bite your lips together until you find it at the bottom... a smirk pulls at your lips and you look at Rebecca with a cheeky glint in your eyes - she knew you too well because she briefly turns her head, breaking her concentration on the road.

"What are you doing?" She asks, her voice unimpressed. Her eyes travel to your lap, seeing the cassette - she knew what it was because you used to blare it from your bedroom until mom would angrily walk in and turn your boom box off, she confiscated the cassette until you sneakily got it back, "No - no," she blurts but before she can block the cassette slot you’d already slipped it in and started wailing your arms about to the intro, "little miss - not now!"

"What is this that stands before me? Figure in black which points at me. Turn 'round quick and start to run. Find out I'm the chosen one!"

Rebecca lets out a long sigh as you sing to the song, "Can you please turn that creepy shit off!" Her voice is angry and weak as she turns the car left into the parking lot of Hawkins High.

Your mouth forms into an 'o' shape, "First of all, the word you're looking for is masterpiece - not... shit - and two, I can tell you're holding in something, spit it out, Becky," you ramble as she parks the car, she bites her lips together in deep concentration.

With the car now still, Rebecca sighs and falls flush into her seat, she looks ahead of her at the book-wielding students walking into school. A minute passed, you keep staring at her, she was probably hoping that you’d give up waiting for an answer but soon she looks defeated, "Fine. I - got a letter from Alex yesterday inviting me to Connecticut to see him and his uni friends next month."

"So - isn't that good?" You blink.

She groans, "I can't go - I have to practice for a pep rally and I have to study to make sure I get a place at university with Al," you can see her heart breaking more as she utters each word.

"Not even for a few days?" You ask, crossing your fingers, hoping any idea would help.

"I can't - there is no way, as much as I want to and believe me when I say that I was staring at the letter all night trying to think of a way to go," she dramatically points at the dark bags under her sunken, watering eyes.

She reaches into her jacket pocket, retrieving the letter - she holds it out, her grip on the paper tight, "I don't think - that this is going to work and once he realises I can't just visit him for a measly few days out of the year, I'm going to receive another letter - a breakup letter," by the end of her unleashing of thoughts, her voice is breathless and weak... probably also worrying about what mom would think if that did happen.

You were taken aback by her outburst, silent as you drowned in that familiar feeling of guilt, "I'm - I'm sor-."

A loud engine spoke over you, a Chevrolet Camero Z/28, immediately you are distracted by it, looking out of the window as it enters the parking lot... you’d never seen a car of that make before - just another thing Mason had taught you that mom resented. Rebecca looks out of your window, your heads close, watching as a girl with red hair jumped out of the car and skateboarded towards the middle school, ignoring the driver.

You could only see the back of his head, until he turns around - you feel like gasping for air when you first see his face, the curl of hair falling over his forehead.

He didn't notice you and Rebecca gawking from inside the car, but he did notice other girls such as Heather, Vicki, Tina and Carol blatantly staring at him - he walks past and you can’t take your eyes away from his back profile as he makes his way towards the high school... your eyes widen and you turn to Rebecca, she was still looking at him.

You nudge her, "Hey - spare some hot guys for the rest of us, jeez."

The first time your eyes met - you and this boy's, was twenty minutes and twenty-two seconds later. You stood at your locker which was filled with stickers, a photo of you and the rest of the cheerleaders, you and Mason, a photo of Ozzy Osbourne and lastly, a photo of Benjamin Orr, who had been your fantasy ever since you’d seen him on the television, playing live with The Cars on Midnight Special in 1979.

This boy was walking along the corridor with a piece of paper in his hand, clearly looking for his assigned locker. You fiddle with a few books and stop in your tracks to look at him as he searches, you blush at your eyes wandering downwards, but you can’t help it, his ass looks good, especially in that outfit - the double denim. It did something to you.

You are so caught up, figuring out this new... feeling that you could only describe as similar to the first time you saw Benjamin Orr on your television screen. It was like seeing a celebrity in real life, realising that they are actually real people - this boy has that look, that effect. You look at him… he’s looking at - me? He began walking towards you. Am I dreaming? He’s smirking and has an arrogant look about him as he comes closer.

You are shocked, he is stood directly in front of you. You are being extremely obvious about your instant crush on him and are internally hitting yourself for it - Be cool be cool be cool be cool. His blue eyes search yours, his mouth twitches upwards - he leans closer and it makes you blush and look away, other students are gawking, "Hi - sweetheart?"

Your head shoots back round to look at him again, the nickname rolling off of his tongue. I should stop staring at his mouth. He brings his hand up and waves it in front of your face, he chuckles and you giggle like the school girl you are, "Hi - er, yes?" I said be cool, not - whatever this is?!

"So you do talk," you find it difficult to look at his face because he is just too perfect, you start to think stupid things like... what it would be like to just be the necklace clung to his chest? When he realises that you probably won’t respond because you are too busy ogling him he chuckles again, swiping his tongue across his teeth, "Could you, by any chance, point out my locker?"

He knows you are going to say yes, he is already holding up the paper. 212 - is he serious? You think as you peek at the paper, getting closer in proximity to him and quickly noticing the perfume he is wearing, a musky smell - a smell you suddenly want to be in the presence of all the time. Strong, warm, sweet. You even stay in a thinking pose longer than you have to because you already knew where his locker is, "Oh - it's - it's literally right there," You stutter, stumble and then point.

He follows the direction of your pointed finger and pops his tongue against his lips, "Ah - thank you, doll," his eyes look at you for just a second longer than they should have - you feel weak under his stare, especially since he is clearly a senior, slightly older, taller, quite muscly for a seventeen year old.

He begins walking in the direction of his blue locker, leaving you - I wish I'd told him my name, or he'd told me his.

⎈ 🦇 ⎈

Lucky for Rebecca, this boy is in most of her classes - if he did show up. She hasn’t shown any interest in him as she's gotten to know his vibe a little better, all you do is ask about him ever since your first and only encounter.

His name is Billy, Billy Hargrove - his favorite 'lesson' is lunch, he plays basketball and is very keen to show off his skills, wanting to become captain of the team over Steve Harrington, who'd filled in after Alex graduated. They are the facts you’d gathered from Rebecca - the more lessons she had with him, the more she'd tell you that he is a 'real pervy son of a bitch', but you didn’t listen and resort to the option of 'she's just overreacting and I'm sure he's sweet' - it definitely doesn’t stop you from observing him shyly from your locker because you never saw him anywhere else.

That is until you see him during a practice for the pep rally that Rebecca had been talking about nonstop - he is in the sports hall playing basketball with the rest of the team, but a majority of the time it is him and Steve that has the ball, as if it were just a one on one game against each other. It’s like two lions fighting for the place of leader of the pack and Steve is struggling to keep up with Billy.

You find it extremely difficult to dance with Billy in the same room, he is shirtless and looks so good - and the passion, how much he clearly wants to be captain, he loves basketball just as much as you do. You continue to stare, your mouth agape... you were desperate to talk to him, but he hadn't even looked at you once since his first day at Hawkins High.

Rebecca's voice is muffled until she starts tapping your shoulder, "little miss, will you focus?"

Her voice seems to grab Billy's attention immediately - he looks straight at her, allowing Steve to swoop in and get the ball, dribbling it away.

Coach Morrison,who watches over both the Basketball team and the cheerleaders, notices that Rebecca is whispering to you, even though she was just shaking you out of your 'Billy Hargrove spell’, "Rebecca - little miss - is whatever you're whispering about more important than the rally coming up?"

The coach's voice now grabs Billy's attention and he is looking Rebecca's way again... then at you - he smirks, the first bit of attention you’d received since you crossed paths and it sends your stomach soaring with butterflies. It took a lot for you to look away from him, to look at the coach, your mouth is open and unable to speak.

Rebecca takes matters into her own hands and saves us, "No - nothing could be more important than the rally, coach."

He nods, "That's what I thought. Back to it, girls!"

You roll your eyes and Chrissy, who is stood on the other side of you, giggles - she'd never changed in all the time you knew her and it made you smile, obliged to focus on the cheer routine, though you do still manage to steal a few glances of Billy in the process.

⎈ 🦇 ⎈

Tonight is the first high school party you ever attended and it’s on Halloween - you’d been begging for Rebecca to let you go with her after you received an invite and finally, after days of nagging, Rebecca caved, agreeing to let you tag along.

You dress up as a cat, wearing a headband with pointed ears, mostly black with some showstopper black and white striped tights - you were already shaking with nerves at the thought of your mom's reaction.

You left at about 9:30pm after your mom begrudgingly called out for you to be back home by midnight and insisted on you being with Rebecca at all times.

There are Halloween decorations everywhere, fake spiderwebs on the hedges leading to Tina's front door. Music is blasting, sounding muffled from outside. Sudden nerves, but also adrenaline ran through you - Rebecca knocks on the door before fiddling with her skeleton costume, "Stay by my side, if things get too much then tell me - I'll walk you home."

"Okay," you hum, pulling at the seams of the black jacket you’re wearing.

Tina opens the door, dressed as a vampire - fangs showing when she smiles at the sight of Rebecca at her door, she wore a long cape with fishnet tights peeking through a slit in the cape. A slurred giggle escapes her lips when she looks at you, "Aren't you guys gonna say trick or treat?"

You glance at Rebecca before nervously giggling, "Trick or treat!" You both say in unison.

"If I'd have known you were actually coming, little miss - I would've stocked up on candy. I'm afraid the only treats in here are in the form of liquid," She explains, smirking at you, "Come in, if you're bold enough," she ushers you and Rebecca in, everyone you walk past looks at you, including Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler - who are dressed as Joel and Lana from Risky Business, a film you’d watched with Rebecca to feed her Tom Cruise obsession, "There's drink here there and everywhere really but the real stuff is on the counter, keg is out back - have yourself a ghoul, guys!"

The place is cramped with seniors - no one a junior like you, a lot of faces you recognise are either from cheerleading, or because of Rebecca as she knew them from class. Theoretically, as a repeat senior, she is the eldest at the party and is still trying desperately to fit in.

Billy made it - you’d already made that assumption, it was the main reason why you wanted to come, the possibility of him being here. You pour yourself a concoction of drink that is in what looks like a big fish bowl, Rebecca's head peeks over your shoulder before she pours herself a larger cup. The drink has fog looming over it and the smell is intoxicating in itself - you quickly needed fresh air, and that is where you spot him.

He is outside, upside down, drinking from the keg stand.

Rebecca follows you outside, she crosses her arms, refusing to look at him - you couldn't keep my eyes off of him, even when he spat the drink out and up into the air like a whale, stumbling over his feet as he walks towards the back door that you’d just used to come out here.

He looks at you first, then at Rebecca, who is still refusing to give him attention - you figure that they'd interacted before, and not positively - not on your sister's part anyway. A smirk fixes itself on his lips when he realises that she isn’t falling under the spell of his hypnotising eyes.

You blush, giving him the most timid smile as he turns his attention back to you, still smirking. Even as he is being wrapped with toilet paper as he walks inside you felt my heart pound, flutters everywhere.

"Stay right here, little miss - 'm gonna get another drink, okay?" Rebecca smiles sweetly, uncrossing her arms when Billy is out of sight.

"Sure thing," You shrug and stay put, sitting yourself down on a spare seat. You wonder why Rebecca hates Billy so much, then shrug again - it probably doesn't mean anything.

The drink sinks into your brain as you sit watching teens dancing, laughing, playing beer pong. For minutes, longer than it should've taken for Rebecca to come back, you stayed exactly where she told you to... you didn't want to ruin her fun so you just continued to sip on your drink until it is finished.

Billy strides out of the house like a shot, determination on his face and he was walking towards you with that same damn smile that he'd given you at the lockers. Rebecca's name flew out of your mind and you are back to mush as he holds his hand out for you to take. You look up at him shyly, but take his hand anyway, both yours and his hands are clammy with sweat or alcohol, sticking together, "T-to what - do I owe this - pleasure?"

"You know, you and your sister have got the same goddamn tongue underneath the princess exterior," he drawls as he pulls you onto your feet. The drink you had reduced the amount of sarcasm and wit you usually did have when sober, especially since you hadn't had alcohol before. All you can do is laugh, gently shoving his shoulder with your spare hand - he smiles smugly, "It's cute, I admit."

A few shaky breaths came out instead of words. Does he always have to smile like that?

"How about you try the keg, princess?" The nickname alone mixed with the drink, you still couldn't speak. You look at the free keg behind him, "You could join keg royalty - be my queen."

His queen? How can I say no to that?

He stands closer, lifting you up, his head is level with your hip. The side of his face is pressed against your bare skin because your jacket and t-shirt had ridden up above your stomach, "You're a natural," he squeezes, arms wrapped completely around you, "hold onto - the keg, doll," his voice is slightly strained, his muscles flexing impressively, "I've got you."

You hear him laughing while you drank from the keg. Other teens, a mix of ghouls, ghosts, vampires, Michael Myers', cats, clowns and Ace Frehley from Kiss start to gather around you and Billy, lifting their glasses and spilling alcohol everywhere. They all cheer you on, chanting 'Chug! Chug! Chug!' It made you feel good that not only are you impressing Billy, you were impressing everyone.

"Put her down you asshole - she's never been to a party like this before!" You hear Rebecca shout, she must've heard the 'chug!' commotion from inside.

"And she's still more fun than you, Becky," Billy responds, winking at her before carefully putting you down - you continue to hold onto him even though both your feet are on the ground, you didn’t want to let go. He holds onto your hand tightly and lifts it up into the air in victory, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you - the keg queen!"

A wide grin finds its way onto your face as you look at everyone, then up at Billy, who is grinning down at you.

Everyone cheers again, but not your sister.

Rebecca grabs your hand, "It's time to go home," she mumbles and pulls you out of Billy's grasp, his eyes are on Rebecca as you stumble away, out of the side exit of Tina's home.

You rant at Rebecca all the way home while she gives you the silent treatment, "I'm just fitting in, Becky - isn't that what you wanted and now? Now that I'm in the cheer team, I'm friends - with your friends, I like a b-boy - that's in the basketball team - so much and - I'm his keg queen!" You laugh before quickly getting angry again, "You don't like it! And I'm happy - it's what you wanted before and now this is what I want too - I like being popular and - I want it to be - like this for me until I leave a - first time senior!"

Your words are evidently annoying Rebecca, I knew it - your drunk state assumed it was jealousy about everything going well for you and she couldn't be happy because she wasn't having the best end to her high school experience. She just stares ahead, "Just - pull yourself together. Mom cannot see you acting like this, she'll kill me and then she'll kill you."

You know that she is right about that - so you decide to be silent for the rest of the night.

⇝ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐 ⎈ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

𝑬𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝑴𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts

⎈

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: Chapter three is finally here! Many thanks to my lovely boyfriend @mantorokk-writes for test reading and making the header, I'm forever in love with you <3 This series is gonna be a slow work in progress, but thank you for reading so far! Really excited to see where it's gonna go, and how we're gonna get these two out of this pickle. Enjoy!

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

A congealed lump of what was apparently mac and cheese, boiled to death vegetables and bitter orange juice. Eddie had become used to shit food long ago, thanks to a lifetime of only buying the cheapest non-brand groceries to try and save costs. But this… This was something else. Fuck, he was surprised it even passed the mark for being fit for human consumption. It reminded him of the stories his old man used to tell about prison food, about how the trick was to eat it without thinking too much, barely savouring the taste before you swallowed. The similarity getting stuck in his throat.

But at least he wasn’t eating his meals in silence anymore. With you sitting opposite him, filling any dead air with talking about the hospital gossip, though he’d given up on trying to follow along after the first apparent affair taking place. But the content didn’t matter. For the first time in so long, maybe even longer than he realised, you had offered him a seat to get out of trouble with no motive behind the action. Had given him his own pack of cigarettes after swindling one from an orderly just before lunch started, the one that seemed to stare at your chest more than your eyes, putting yourself at risk for no gain of your own. It was exceedingly rare to find people that would do something out of the goodness of their hearts, and the question was rattling around his head with such a velocity that it tumbled from his lips before he even realised. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Even he internally winced at the lack of warmth in his tone, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. But if it offended you, you didn’t act as if it bothered you. Instead, the corners of your lips twitched upwards, eyes drifting from your tray to his own as you tilted your head. 

“What’dya mean?”

Giving himself a few needed seconds to reframe the words in his head with taking a sip of his drink, he swirled the contents of the paper cup, deciding to stare down into it rather than look up. “I mean, why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” 

From the very quick glance upwards he chanced, there seemed to be something there that was bittersweet. Eyes slightly widened, mouth downturned, yet an ever so slight huff of a laugh as you balled up a serviette in your hands. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be the new guy on the wing. The way the others look at you like you’re a fuckin’ chew toy?” 

He’d noticed the way the other patients stared, when the steel door behind him slammed shut. Some didn’t even look over, too caught up in their own internal world. But there’s a certain feeling that can overcome a person when they’re accustomed to having to be on high alert at all times. A certain flash of the eyes that makes your stomach churn, blood pooling to your feet and your mind telling you to run. You studied his face for a moment, a sympathetic smile briefly twitching at your lips. 

“I had someone look out for me too, when I first got here,” you explained, the paper in your hand now being twisted and toyed with as you spoke. “She uh… Her name was Patty. She was this take no shit kinda woman. Taught me the best way to curb the hunger was smoking cigarettes, which orderlies would give pretty girls special treatment, which patients to never go near. That sorta useful shit.” 

Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your downcast eyes. “She got sick last year. Didn’t say much about it, but it took a toll on her. It finally got her a couple of months back. And you know what the worst thing was about it?” 

Plenty of what you were saying was ‘the worst thing’. Being caught on the wrong side of a power dynamic, having to go hungry because nobody cared, patients having to be caregivers because God forbid those that actually got paid to do it actually did their fucking jobs for once. All of those answers dying on his tongue, replaced with a slow shake of his head.

“Nobody came to see her in the end,” you muttered, brows furrowing as your voice cracked. “She told me she had a son, told me the doctors called him and told him, but he never came. I get it, I mean, not many of us have the luxury of seeing people from the outside… But she was on her fucking deathbed, y’know?” 

When your eyes finally met his, glossy with unshed tears that you seemed so determined to never let overspill, there was a look to you that made all the pieces click together. Made the parts of him that he’d kept buried away for self preservation start to rise back to the surface. Taking a firm grasp of his heart and squeezing for good measure. 

The look of pure fear. 

The fear that one day, both of you would end up like Patty. Untethered to the world outside, cast adrift with the other lost souls. Taking the last few rattled breaths with nobody around to hear them, looking up to the sky and the view still blocked with bars. Nobody with spare change for the ferryman, forever stuck. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say, no other words seeming quite right. The tone as hollow as he felt, as shaky as the tremors in his hands that never quite seemed to go away. All he could think to say, but the truth. He was sorry you were here, if your proclaimed innocence was to be believed. He was sorry for himself too, deep down. 

“It’s whatever,” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried and failed to staple the look of nonchalance back on your face with a half decent result. “Anyway, don’t worry about your first therapy session, alright? I got it covered.” 

He shot you a small look of incredulity, head tilted to the side as he followed your lead in piling used napkins and cutlery onto his meal tray. “What’dya mean?” 

The smile you gave him next was finally a genuine one, a glimmer in your eye that could only mean mischief. 

“You’ll see.” 

~

You could see the stress levels that you tried so desperately to lower over lunch to begin raising as you and Eddie filed into the day room for group therapy. How his jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break enamel, a shortening fuse near a naked flame as he took his seat next to you. Leg bouncing with beats akin to a hummingbird’s heart, chewing at the skin around his ruined nails with eyesight dancing around the room to end up on the tile right in front of him. You couldn’t blame him; he was walking into the unknown, with no idea where the hell he would end up. You remembered the feeling well. 

Others clad in the same off white uniform as you took their respective seats around you, the energy in the room a palpable, frantic buzz. Nerves, apathy, distaste and mocking. You could feel it all, see it in the faces around you that you’d come to know in the years that you’d been imprisoned. Small naked flames, that could be as harmless as a match or as intense as thermite. The day could go either way. And it would depend on the questions posed to them.

Dr. Madden made his way through the doors, adjusting the thick horned rimmed glasses that permanently perched on his beak-like nose as he took his seat. You’d never liked him; he was nosy, even for a psychiatrist, always putting two and two together to end up with an equation that made no fucking sense. Nothing could ever be simple, in his eyes. Someone’s violent outburst had some convoluted reasoning to do with Daddy issues and not being hugged enough as a child, rather than someone just needing a fucking cigarette and not being given one. It took everything within you not to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as he cleared his throat to begin. 

“Good afternoon everyone,” he began, eyes settling over each patient for a brief second before focusing on Eddie. “We’re welcoming a new person into the wing today. Have you had any sort of therapy like this before, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s reply was a brief shake of his head, glance not leaving the cracks of the floor as he fiddled with the split ends of his hair. Madden’s bushy eyebrow raised a fraction as he sat himself slightly forward. “Well, we start with a brief check in. How we’re feeling, what we’d like to talk about in today’s session. Perhaps you could start us off? You seem nervous today.” 

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, the psychiatrist’s beady eyes narrowing on you as you fished through your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. The look on his face evident that he wasn’t amused at your perceived insolence to his ‘therapeutic process’. He could shove that process where the sun didn’t shine, as far as you were concerned. 

“He’s a newbie, of course he’s gonna be nervous,” you shrugged, waving over an orderly with a lighter, who seemed to be watching you with ever so slight trepidation as he ignited the flame that you used to puff life into your cigarette. Huffing out an exhale of smoke that was aimed in his direction. “Bit of a redundant question, isn’t it?” 

Madden was a tough nut to crack, but you’d managed to get the veins in his neck bulging a couple of times. You just needed to know which buttons to press, and it seemed you hit one with a jab to his reasoning. “I don’t find it redundant at all,” he answered with a smile slightly too smug for your liking. “But if you think that an example of a check in could help, maybe you could go first instead?” 

You took a sharp inhale as you gave a grimace of indifference, face scrunched up as you jerked your head towards an older lady that seemed on the edge of her seat to talk. “Why don’t you get Miriam to do it? From what I remember, she was just starting to open up about her fucker of an ex husband.”

Was using another patient’s anger, something you knew got them started into an hour long tangent until they were red in the face unethical? Maybe. But it was every man for himself out here, and you didn’t have anything akin to backup in the process. As expected, the woman launched into a tirade, screechings which contained the words “useless bastard” and “should have divorced him before he did it to me!” melding into the background as you shot a smug smirk in Madden’s direction. To his credit, he was hiding his distaste well, his only giveaway the slight flush creeping above his collar.

For most of the session, you managed to evade the heat from coming towards you and Eddie. A few more prods to Miriam, staying silent when the psychiatrist asked if anyone else had anything to add. A question to old man Hardy about the house he got kicked out from before being transferred, each person being used like a shield to hide from the questions you knew Madden had for you. You knew you were fucked from the moment he put his hand up to cut off Duane about his teenage trauma prematurely, eyes fixed on you as he sat back in his chair. 

“Does Duane’s story resonate with you?” he asked with a heightened pitch of voice, head slightly tilted as his lips twitched upwards. It caused your back to straighten, knowing full well where he was going with this. Somewhere you swore never to go back to, ever since the nightmares ever so slightly decreased and the flashing images weren’t permanently burned into the back of your eyelids. 

“No.” 

The words reverberated around clenched teeth, knuckles turned white as you gripped the cracked pleather of the cushion you sat on. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Eddie staring at you with a slight questioning to his glance, and it made your gut twist even more. You hated how suddenly the tentative power dynamic had switched. How your already lacking control was going to spiral even further, if Madden willed it. 

“I think it might, though,” the good doctor continued, the slight smirk being poorly hidden as his head tilted to the side. “You had a lot happen when you were eighteen, didn’t you? When you made the choice to-”

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you snapped back, folding your arms as a poorly constructed buffer between you and the man opposite. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a slight ease of tension as you realised the time. “Not with only five minutes left of the session.” 

“But you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he countered, daring to look slightly sympathetic as he regarded you. “You’ve been here two years, and you’ve never talked about that night. It doesn’t show much progress, now does it?” 

You wanted to stand up, pick up your chair, and crash it over the top of his head. How the fuck would he know what ‘progress’ you’d been making? How much work you’d had to put into yourself, rationalising and justifying everything about the night that changed the path of your life, so much that you probably could never step foot on the original trail if you tried. How you still tortured yourself with what you could have done differently, the actions that you did take haunting you like spectres? Madden knew nothing of how often you’d dragged yourself off the precipice time and time again, nothing but bloody fingernails and a quickly ebbing will to live, as you weighed up the decisions of falling asleep to never wake up again against staying alive to do everything in your power to clear the stain on your name.

To Madden’s credit, he didn’t push further. Letting the silence hang in the air, perhaps a non-verbal push that might get you talking. It might have worked, once upon a time. When you had no secrets to hide, too worried about what others thought, wanting to please people so much that it deprived you of happiness. But that was before you were branded a psycho, tossed into this place with the key thrown away. Now, you couldn’t give a shit about what others thought. 

Except, there was a way your stomach dropped when you looked over to see the way Eddie looked at you. Not with disgust or horror, which you were used to by now. There was slight concern in his eyes, mixed with empathy, the combination making you want to squirm in your seat. You didn’t even know each other, yet his humanity seemed to still be intact for now, seeing another person clearly struggling and not being able to do anything about it. 

You decided to stare at the clock on the wall for the rest of the session, filtering out all other noises and focusing on watching the minute hand strike closer and closer until time was up. 

As you put away chairs, you expected Eddie to ask you about it. Maybe try to pry, or get answers for questions that could be in his own mind. But he didn’t. He stayed silent as you both wandered back to the table you met at, sitting down with him wordlessly reaching for the deck of cards in the middle and starting to shuffle. And silent you stayed. Going through the motions of a routine you knew too well; free time, ‘music’ therapy - as if listening to the same vinyl of Bach twice a week for two years would do anything other than make you want to smash your head against the chipped white walls. Dinner consisting of a brick of so-called ‘meatloaf’ that you knew well enough to avoid even attempting to eat, settling for tasteless vegetables and vaguely lime flavoured Jell-o instead. 

Even silent when the orderly Nguyen told you to haul ass to the laundry room for work placement, and to take your new ‘friend’ with you. You were brought out of the routine of folding sheets when you heard Eddie clear his throat, looking up to see him slightly rattled as he sorted various clothing into separate piles. 

“Hey uh… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna, but… Thanks. For today.” You saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, a ghost of a smile as his eyeline landed on the messy stack of undershirts. “Didn’t have to stick your neck out of me, but you did. Appreciate it.”

You mustered the leftover social energy you had to lift your shoulders into a slight shrug, rubbing the back of your head whilst the other hand took your weight as you leaned slightly on the table. “It’s nothing. Sorry for not being so talkative I just… Still don’t wanna talk about why I’m here, y’know?” 

A curt nod was his reply at first, lips a narrow line and eyes darting around as if he was thinking hard about something. Finally glancing towards the door, then around the room, as if to make double sure that what he was about to say wouldn’t be overheard. He looked panicked; either a deer in the headlights or a lion ready to defend itself, you weren’t sure. 

“They said I killed people.” 

It was so quiet you barely picked up on it, and you had to admit, it took you aback. There was an initial flight or flight reaction that doused your autonomic system, as if his words set off a red light in your head and you had to start looking for an improvised weapon. However, that was pure instinct, only for a second before logic took over. For someone who was apparently a killer, he certainly did look hollow about it all. Besides. Those in glass houses…

“Did you do it?” you mumbled back, eyes leaving his to take the pressure of both of you, hands busying themselves with folding the now grey sheet in front of you, toying with the frayed corner to try and conceal it in the fold somehow. 

“No.”

You found yourself at a precipice. He had stuck his neck out to tell you his charge, not knowing if you’d stick around or bolt and leave him on his own again. It was a sign of trust; an olive branch, that you could either accept or leave hanging between you. You had only known Eddie a day. Less than that, maybe seven hours, tops. But so far, he seemed to have his wits about him. He didn’t strike you as the judgemental type. He didn’t pry, and he tried to distract you when you were at your lowest, instead of offering useless advice or forcing you to open up. When you looked up at him, there was no hint of deceit that you could tell. He was staring at you with those intense eyes of his, an expression reading both ‘I’m telling the truth’ and ‘dear God, I hope you fucking believe me’. 

For so long, you had wanted reinforcements in this place so badly. To not fight alone, to have backup. In the outside world, no way would you trust someone this fast. But this was Pennhearst. A place with different rule sets. You needed to take the help wherever it came from, and hope it didn’t blow back in your face later. 

You needed to give him something in return. 

You didn’t falter with eye contact as you said the words you thought you’d never say. The words that made your stomach churn, made you want to flinch as you said them. “They said I killed people, too.” 

You saw the look on his face to be one of bewilderment, eyes scanning you up and down as if he’d never seen you before. You wondered if that’s what you’d looked like not five seconds ago, mirroring each other as you confessed your sins. “Did you do it?” 

“No.”

The crease between his eyebrows seemed to smooth, after what felt like hours of staring at each other, the only other sounds the rhythmic knocking of the decrepit industrial dryers. It was you who finally broke the silence, busying yourself again with grabbing the pile of undershirts near you by the bottom and pulling it towards you to begin folding. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And if you don’t want me to know about what happened, I’m not gonna push it.” You shook your head as you frowned at the fabric in your hands.

“Why do you believe me? When I say I didn’t do it?” 

You glanced back up at him to find a worried expression on his face, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you. As if it was too good to be true, to finally be believed. You wracked your brain for an answer, only to shrug and say the first thing on your mind. “Because guilty people don’t look so frightened of their consequences. I suppose on a subconscious level, they know they deserve the hell they created for themselves.”

You heard a sound which you figured to be a sharp exhale of air through his nose, most likely an attempt at a wry laugh. “You don’t look frightened.”

Your lips turned downward as you frowned again. “You get good at hiding it after a while, I guess.”

You heard your name being called, so softly that your heart nearly shattered. Not your last name being barked out with disdain, or in a patronising tone like a shrink would. It was said like somebody actually gave a shit. You looked up to be met with a look that was one of genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was wondering what to say. 

It was getting too intense for your liking. 

Shaking your head as you cleared your throat, you flashed a tight smile as your folding became hurried. “Finish that pile quick, yeah? Orderlies hit the roof when you don’t finish your chores on time.” 

To his credit, Eddie didn’t push it. The rest of the time being filled with small talk and comfortable silences, until your names were called to be taken back to your room for the night. The motions of getting ready to bed had become mechanical a long time ago, on autopilot as you brushed your teeth and changed clothes. Hearing the call for lights out, and getting plunged into darkness against your will. You knew that first checks were in an hour. 

You had sixty minutes to cry to yourself about finally being seen, about not being treated like a criminal that deserved the way you were being treated. Hugging the pillow to your face and willing yourself not to be making a sound, clutching the cheap cotton between your fingers as if your life depended on it. Sixty minutes until you needed to shove the emotions back down, and face tomorrow, same as you always did. 

Same as you always did, but at least you had someone on your side. 

[ettawritesnstudies]

WIP Intro

[Image ID: A digital painting of a crossroads with various road signs indicating route 1 south and milemarker 0, exit 0. It's night and there are dandelion puffs growing on the grass around the signs, with pine trees in the background. A ghost girl sits on top of the exit sign and blows a wish on one of the dandelion puffs. End Image ID]

The End of the Road

Category/Genre: New Adult Coming of Age / Paranormal, slow-burn friendship-> romance

Themes: road trips, leaving behind your hometown, the friends you know are transitory but you can't help but get attached to anyhow and the friends you make out of necessity that you can't help but feel you've outgrown, hauntings, ghosts and ghost towns, liminal spaces, the echos of grief, mental illness

Warnings: Death, mention of suicide, alcohol/drunk driving, smoking

POV: Dual 3rd person past tense

Status: Outlining, drafting through summer - autumn 2023

Synopsis:

Winnifred Armstrong barely eked out her degree from the community college while working retail at the local Walmart with the annoying people from her high school. Armed with a diploma and four summers worth of savings, she's determined to get away from her crazy family and this dead end town where everyone knows her name and everyone's asking what she's making of her life. She doesn't know the answer yet but she'll figure it out somewhere that's not here.

Henry Priceton recently graduated from a well known private school. He's trying to live up to all the expectations of his family and his community who see him as "the smart one who made it" but he's saddled with way too much student debt for a degree he kind of hates. Hey, it makes good money in a boring 9-5. He can figure out what he's doing with his life off the work clock once he gets out from under the thumb of his micromanaging parents.

When these old high school classmates both find jobs in a faraway city, their meddling parents decide it would be a great idea for them to share the cost of a moving van and drive their things out together. They get along, but they're not friends, and both hope to take turns driving and spend their breaks sleeping and listening to music through headphones. But as both the conversation and the road roll on underneath them, Winnie and Henry realize they both have ghosts they're trying to outrun. Will they be able to ditch what's haunting them before they reach the end of the road?

Ask if you want to be added to a taglist! Thank you @siarven for helping me develop this <3

[lithium80writer]

The Fence (A Billy Hargrove Short Story)

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Chapter four: Your Billy

⚠���This is a darker story. ⚠️ Billy Hargrove short story. This story will focus a lot on Billy's abuse from his father and Josephine's mental and sexual abuse from her stepfather. Can these two lost souls find sanctuary in each other? Trigger warnings ⚠️: Descriptions of sexual assault in first person and domestic abuse. Language. Thoughts of self harm and suicide. Disturbing topics. Smut. ⚠️ This story is not for everyone but more an emotional release for me. Thank you for reading. 🖤 Upside down doesn't exist. Max is not Billy's sister. It's just him and Neil.

*********

Billy's POV

I walk outside and I see a little envelope sticking through the fence. My heart speeds up and I walk a little faster. I quickly tear it open and see her delicate handwriting. Cursive. Shit.

Too fancy for me but I slide down my back against the fence and squint to read her small handwriting.

**** Dear Billy,

I was happy to get your letter. I'm sorry for disappearing. I am okay. Is your eye better? I hope so. Your letter caught me by surprise. It made me feel happy. I don't feel that a lot. So, thank you. Write back soon.

Your friend from the other side of the fence,

Josephine.

**** Josephine. It's even prettier. I made her feel happy. Billy Hargrove made someone happy. And someone made Billy Hargrove feel happy. What the fuck is going on?

There's that care again. Jo, asking about my eye. Maybe I'm not delusional.

I stand quickly and dust the dirt off of my jeans. I head inside and straight to my room trying to avoid him at all costs. I light a cigarette as I put pen to paper. And there it began. Our friendship.  My first real friendship. Little by little we learned about each other.

She asked me questions about me. My favorite things. How I was doing. My life in general. And for some reason, I told her. I was honest. But it started to feel fake. I wasn't being fake but it didn't sound like Billy Hargrove.

Not everyone's preconceived notions about me anyways. She wouldn't like the real me.

The hardest letter I ever wrote to Jo:

**** I need you to know, Josephine. I'm not a good person. I'm angry. I fight a lot. I drink a lot. I cuss too much and I smoke a pack a day.. at least. I'm so fucking angry. But I don't feel that way when I write to you. I feel calm. I feel at peace. But I don't want you to have some fake image of me built up in your head. I'm not good, Jo. I'm not a good person.

Billy

**** I waited for her reply anxiously. I thought maybe she wasn't going to reply. Every day I checked the spot. It was empty. I fucked up. I pushed her away. I was too honest.

Then finally, I saw it. Placed in between the wooden posts. I lit a cigarette and prepared for the worst. I held the envelope in my hand for what felt like hours. Fucking open it, Billy.

**** My dear Billy,

Anger doesn't make you a bad person. You have every right to be angry. You make me feel good. You make me feel happy. You brighten my life more than anyone ever has. Could a bad person do that? I don't believe so. Everybody has their faults. Please don't be so hard on yourself. I like you. Even the rough parts. I have bad parts too.

Your Jo (I hope that's okay.) ****

I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief. She didn't hate me. I didn't push her away. And I was completely honest with her.

My Jo. It's more than okay, baby.

I began to open up to Josephine. All the crazy thoughts I have, I let them pour out to her. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I can't see her. It's not face to face. Normally I would have been embarrassed. Or thought I was being a pussy. But it felt good. And she wasn't judging me.

Billy the fucking poet. But it felt different when I wrote to her. I was able to slow down my thoughts, not just spit out whatever smartass remark was always on my tongue. I could tell her what I was really feeling. On my bad days, I wrote a little more. Sometimes on my worst days, I didn't write at all.

Her letters were scarce. Only coming twice a week. But her words were always beautiful. Well spoken and kind. Sometimes I'd have three written by the time I got hers.When I asked her why she avoided the question. Come on, Josephine. Let me in.

I opened up to her and she opened up to me, a little at a time. Though I know she's still hiding things.

She doesn't like to talk about her stepdad much. But there was one letter that stood out. Two words. The Monster.

What has he done to my Jo?

*****

Josephine's POV

Letter after letter. Thought after thought. Feeling after feeling. I poured my heart out to the boy on the other side of the fence. I didn't tell him everything but I told him when I was having extra bad days.

He told me when he was feeling down. He told me he wasn't good. I knew that wasn't true. I wanted to help him see that he was good.

Billy became a safe place for me to land. I didn't have to talk to my tree as much, though I still did. I told her all about Billy.

In one letter he called me sweetheart. I felt a flutter in my heart that I'd never experienced. I wanted to be his Jo. And I told him that. He responded in the next letter with "your Billy." I cried reading it.

In one of his letters he mentioned wanting to help me. I want that more than anything but there's nothing he can do. I want to see him. I tell him that regularly even though I know I can't.

Today I sat against my tree and opened Romeo and Juliet. I've read it now three times cover to cover. This time with Billy's letter was a small flower pressed flat in the pages. It was beautiful. I wonder if he thinks I'm beautiful.

I think he is. I didn't get to see him for long but his face is burned into my brain. I picture him sometimes at night when I close my eyes. Lately I've been having other feelings about him. Feelings that make me ashamed. Feelings that make me feel guilty.

I want to ask him if he's ever had sex. If it felt good. It's supposed to, right? I had a dream about Billy. I woke up feeling tingly. I'm confused. And scared. And curious. Maybe one day I'll ask him.

I leave the flower in its place, not wanting to destroy it. I decide I'll keep it forever. He ends up sending more. Little ones here and there. I have quite the collection of them now. They're my favorite thing.

*******

A few weeks later, I got another letter. Billy says he has an idea. It was dangerous. But maybe it could work.

**** You won't be able to see me but you can hear me. And I can hear you. What do you think, Jo?

Your Billy ****

I think yes. I think my heart might explode. I think I'd give anything to see those eyes again but for now.. hearing him will have to suffice.

**** My dear Billy,

Anything to hear your voice.

Love, your Josephine ****

Masterlist 🖤

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. hello! as always thank you for the good work! I’m looking for ‘seraph of the end’ au fics or something that goes like that, specifically wangxian.

~*~

2. Hi! Any recs for arranged marriage fics, of the sort in which lwj marries a fearsome yiling patriarch but once he gets to know him he falls in love? Thank you!!!

Caught Between Sun and Shadows by Alliandra (E, 71k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, grapshic depictions of violence, sunshot campaign, arranged marriage, YLLZ WWX, pining, battle husbands, versatile wangxian, falling in love, resentacles, sex pollen, fuck or die, golden core reveal, politics, hurt/comfort)

💖 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX was never adopted to Jiang, war prize, YLLZ WWX, pining, first kiss, first time, falling in love, angst w/ happy ending)

holding hands with you in this rain-flooded street by puddingcatbeans (M, 12k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, husbands to lovers?, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives)

~*~

3. For the next ITMF, I'm interested in people's favorite fics from the last six months (ish)! There's so much good fic in this fandom that it's hard to keep up with the new stuff. (I hope this kind of request is ok) @ehyde​

💙 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, modern w/ cultivation, getting back together, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, case fic, pining)

all the problems we could solve by Stratisphyre (T, 20k, wangxian, modern, getting together, somewhat non-linear, fluff, humor, violence, meet-cute, identity porn, thieves au)

born under unlucky stars by RoseThorne (M, 1k, JZX & MXY, JZX & QS, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, major character death, canonical character death, ghosts, brotherly love, spells & enchantments, MXY pov, anger, revenge)

Ominous by 3neetee (T, 5k, wangxian, pre-relationship, established relationship, character death, fae & fairies, changelings, dark wangxian, BAMF WWX, graphic depictions, suicide, implied/referenced domestic violence)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern w/ cultivation, academia au, kid fic, music, action/adventure, canon-typical violence, slow burn, fluff & angst, canon-typical JGY behavior, happy ending)

The Sculptor by Eleanor_Fenyx (M, 27k, wangxian, LQY/WQ, LWJ & WQ, SL/XXC, modern, lavender marriage, period typical attituted and terminology, mute SL, queer themes, queer families, slow burn, getting together, intimacy, artist WWX, professor LWJ)

For A Gentleman, Ten Years Is Not Too Long by Cerusee (G, 10k, NHS & WWX, JC & WWX, A murder mystery I guess, canon-typical ambiguity, Ambiguous/Open Ending)

What We Grew in this Forsaken Place by Admiranda (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Shapeshifter LWJ, bottle episode fic, bunny crimes, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, WWX is a genius, unexpected pet owner WWX)

Foxsong by Admiranda (T, 41k, A-Qing & WWX & LWJ, Yi City trio, WangXian, SongXiao, fox a-qing, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Dragon LWJ/Fox WWX, XY causes problems, High Fantasy, mythical beasts in human forms, Found Family, background wangxian, married wangxian)

to explore strange new worlds...! Series by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (G/T, 44k, NieLan, WangXian, Star Trek Fusion, Vulcan LWJ, Vulcan LXC, Vulcan Culture, Child LWJ, Child LXC, Medical Procedures, Lán Family Feels, POV LQR, LXC Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bad Parenting, Chronic Pain, Disability, College/University, POV Alternating, PTSD, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Panic attacks, Vulcan mind meld)

Love Buns by Czeriahx (G, 2k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, fluff, cooking adventures with Jin Zixuan)

your bones don't rust by curiositea (M, 2k, wangxian, modern, established relationship, fluff, light angst, anxiety, panic attacks, kissing, hand-feeding, WIP)

when you love somebody, bite your tongue by sophiahelix (E, 17k, wangxian, cloud recesses study arc, first time, horny teenagers, sharing a bed, fantasizing, size kink)

A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, wangxian, modern, compulsory heterosexuality, masturbation, eventual smut, pining, denial, drunkenness, jealousy, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending)

Fakespeare in the Park by Scrippio (T, 58k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, modern, theatre au, fluff, accidental baby acquisation, light angst, WIP)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, time travel fix-it, kid fic, families of choice, angst, grief/mourning, class issues, past child abuse, politics, moral ambiguity, everyone lives, happy ending)

~*~

4. Heyy! For the next ITMF can you please recommend

A) some fics about wangxian friendly sparring where they are both equals in swordfighting.

B) fics with WWX sparring with Madam Yu (not Jiang friendly if possible). And WWX wins the fight (obviously).

Thanks for your hardwork! @iwhateveryou2331

4A)

somehow, someway, we all get to someday by Stratisphyre (T, 76k, CSSR/LQR/WCZ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Parenthood, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Family Feels, Not JFM Friendly, Not Lan Sect Friendly, past emotional abuse, Demisexual Character, Inclusive discussions of reproductive rights) this one is strong with the ‘wangxian equality’ vibe; there’s a great wangxian sword fight somewhere in there, too

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation) not swordfighting but martial arts however it is well done!

4B)

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Babyconsort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously) can't promise not-Jiang friendly, but there's a great sparring session between WWX and Madam Yu.

~*~

5. Do you know any fics where wwx leaves the wen remnants after they go to the burial mounds to go back to yunmeng for something??

~*~

6. Hello! Hope you're all doing great so far this holiday season! I was hoping to make a request for a future itmf. Do you have any recs for some pokemon AUs?? I found my old copy of pokemon moon right before I bought pokemon violet, and now I'm playing both and have a huge craving for some pokemon crossovers! Preferably wangxian and it'd be great if it's completed but I'll be happy with anything! Thank you so much! @suibian800

This Tumblr post

A Journey in the Making by DawnCloud (G, 6k, wangxian, Pokémon au)

of ghosts and graveyards by DiRoxy (T, 10k, wangxian, Pokémon au, pre-relationship, case fic, ghost WWX, happy ending, LWJ & JC working together, depictions of science experiments on pokemon)

~*~

7. Have you come across any fics with lwj and wwx just. Adventuring and traveling post-canon? Like solving mysteries and maybe some whump and protective lwj when wwx tries to save the day? @shiro-tora3​

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic & VSfic (E, 30k, wangxian, case fic, time loop)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, wangxian, case fic, demons)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, m.. maybe??, its not as intense as a kink, Fluff, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication)

The envy of the world by vulnerable_bead (E, 48k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, LJY & LSZ, post-canon, case fic, smut, fluff, established relationship, wangxian as teachers, wangxian as musicians, spellweaving) poetic fairytale prose; a casefic of unfurling complexity with an intelligent, subtle, and tragic antagonist; mysterious uncharted musical magic; a climactic confrontation that deserves to be animated. And then there’s the famous Windowsill Papapa Scene.

~*~

8. Hi guys! Happy holidays, hope you enjoy them 🤗 I was hoping for the next ITMF post you could recommend some wangxian fics where they’re already sleeping together and WWX thinks it’s just casual and he’s very angsty about it because he’s hopelessly in love with LWJ. Bonus points if LWJ gets to do an epic love confession. 🙏

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering (E, 36k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, lan zhan FUCKS, Fluff and Smut, Experienced LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Spit Kink, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Negotiation, Pride and Prejudice 2005 (dir. Joe Wright), mentions of Wei Ying/others and Lan Zhan/others)

You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)

Introduction to Floating by cupofwater (E, 13k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Pollen, Mildly Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Love Confessions, Modern Cultivation, PWP)

Treat you right by airinshaw (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Work, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Dom/sub, Sexual role play)

↑ these are tagged 'pining while fucking' , I can't promise a big LZ confession tho

~*~

9. Hello, I am in the mood for soft E rated fics! Please no fics where wangxian is not together!

Catharsis by sevenless (E, 3k, WangXian, Incense Burner, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship)

~*~

10. Itmf civilian or rogue cultivator wwx (never part of Jiang or other sects) ends up at qiongqi wen prison post sunshot (Maybe he was minor wen or wen servant/civilian, or had wen friends or wrong place wrong time etc) and ends up escaping

~*~

11. ITMF some Nie Mingjue centric fics. Gen or slash, but no niecest, please!

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NieLan, WangXian, SangNing, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Protective NMJ, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Once Upon A Time in Qinghe by paranoid_fridge (T, 22k, NHS & NMJ, WangXian, NMJ & LXC, Angst, Humor, Spoilers, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sort Of)

The Quiet Room by nirejseki (T, 37k, NieLan, XiYao, Sensory Deprivation, Partner Betrayal, Consent Issues, Manipulation, Medical Trauma, Canon Divergence, not very friendly to LXC, Infidelity, Gaslighting, Mental Health Issues, denial of agency, Willful Blindness)

a *lot* of nirejseki’s stuff is nie mingjue heavy, and their nie bros stuff is familial

The Veil Between by staringatstars (T, 1k, NHS & NMJ, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Canon Divergence, Protective Siblings)

Empathy by clockwork_spider (M, 30k, JGY & NMJ, time travel fix-it, second-hand trauma, empathy, hurt/comfort)

~*~

12. Is there some good junior centric fics there? I’d love to read ones espescially with all four of them!

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, [Podfic] Grow by jellyfishfire)

Time Travel, Obviously by nirejseki (Not Rated, 1k, Time Travel, Crack) short, funny, and very on point characterisation for all four of them

autonomous by captain_apostrophe (E, 34k, LJY & LSZ & OYZZ & JL, LJY/LSZ, scifi au, cyberpunk, polyamory negotiations, complicated relationships, developing relationships, tattoo as self-defense, epilepsy warning for flashing title gif card, on hiatus)

matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match by mowochi (T, 21k, LJY & LSZ & OYZZ & JL, JC/NHS, post-canon, outsider pov, canon compliant, matchmaking, fluff, junior quartet dynamics, family bonding, JL pov, getting together)

~*~

13. Could you please recommend some angst fics? I want the most heart wrenching angst that will make me sob :)

We do actually have a Heavy Angst Comp that you can also look at ^^

~*~

14. IITMF request: A) are there any fics where WWX is not the son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze ?

B) fics similar to 'To the Heavens and the Earth'

Thanks so much!!

~*~

15. Hello! Thank you for your hard work getting fics for all of us deprived souls. I would like to ask for a few fics because I'm in the mood for fics where weiying got all the love he deserved, especially while growing up. I'd like for his childhood to be happy and loved by the family who get him out of the streets (either the jiangs or it can be anyone). Once again, thank you and have a nice day.

❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne  (G, 43k, wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect) sort of

somehow, someway, we all get to someday by Stratisphyre (T, 76k, CSSR/LQR/WCZ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Parenthood, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Family Feels, Not JFM Friendly, Not Lan Sect Friendly, past emotional abuse, Demisexual Character, Inclusive discussions of reproductive rights) (link in 4A) canon divergent fic in which he gets all the love from his actual mom and dad (they don’t die)

Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up)

~*~

16. Hi! For the next ITMF, can you recommend fics about wwx' genius? Like everybody realize and are in awe because of it? I mean, he invented a lot of things. Preferably post canon, but i'm open to anything. Thanks for your hard work♥

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 508k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Instead by apathyinreverie (T, 12k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It, like self-indulgently so, by way of dark(er) gusu lan, manipulative elders, but in a good way?, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not really gusu lan friendly either, not particularly friendly towards anyone really, Cultivation World Critical, Sunshot campaign, Fluff, Politics, Courting Rituals, possibly implied mpreg, Genius WWX, Talismans, No demonic cultivation, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Canon Divergence)

The River Runs Forever by Cerusee (T, 136k, WIP, WangXian, SangLi, Badass WWX, Inventor WWX, Jiang/Nie sibling power quartet, Dead JC, Jiang Sect Leader WWX)

finding you always, all ways by BlueFrogs (T, 31k, WangXian, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Romance, Memory Loss, Age Difference, due to reincarnation)

~*~

17. Hello! I can't decide wether i should be proud or embarrassed of myself, i just finished your whole jiang bashing comp list and i crave some more. Can you please share some more? Thank you!!!

sukob by Anonymous (M, 7k, wangxian, JC/LXC, royalty au, revenge, banishment, forced seclusion, amanesia, running away, mpreg, miscarriage, concubines, not JC friendly, not LXC friendly, not gusu lan friendly, dark LWJ, happy ending for wangxian)

Lie for Love by sether1n3 (E, 65k, wangxian, LWJ/MXY, modern, secret (2013) au, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, mpreg, hit & run, WWX goes to prison, hurt WWX, depressed WWX, panic attacks, grief/mourning, not JC friendly, enemies to lovers, WIP)

Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 49k, hualian, wangxian, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, not JFM friendly, WWX adopted by hualian, no golden core transfer, WIP)

One more time with feeling by Hauntcats (Not rated, 19k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, time travel fix-it, not JC friendly, not Jiang friendly (aside from JYL), angst w/ happy ending, no golden core transfer, WIP)

Attack a Bear In Its Den by Hauntcats (T, 6k, JC & WWX, wangxian, major character death, time travel, not JC friendly, no golden core transfer, angst w/ happy ending)

The Debts of a Child by Hauntcats (M, 115k, WWX & Jiangs, wangxian, not Jiang friendly, angst w/ happy ending, dark)

The Wei of family by HikariNoHimeWriter (E, 46k, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, ABO, rogue cultivator WWX, everyone lives au, omega WWX, alpha LWJ, genius WWX, WWX & CSSR has ADHD, falling in love, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly)

Ad Oblivione by Baph & HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 71k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, temporary character death, canon-typical violence, multiple pov, hurt/comfort, identity reveal, golden core reveal, cultivation world critical, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly, angst w/ happy ending)

Turnabout by miixz (T, 32k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, post sunshot, fluff, not everyone dies au, outsider pov on time travel, parent wangxian, wen remnants live, misunderstandings, getting together, not JC friendly)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[l832]

hanif abqurraqib // full text under cut

(tw suicide)

Brief Notes On Staying // No One Is Making Their Best Work When They Want To Die

I don't mean sadness as much as I mean the obsession with it. Once, on the wrong edge of a bridge, a boy I knew who played songs let his feet slip off. I found a tape of his after he was gone, and the music sounded sweeter, or at least I told myself it did. What I really want to do is say that life is impossible, and the lie we tell ourselves is that it is too short. Life, if anything, is too long. We accumulate too much along the way. Too many heartbreaks, too many funerals, too many physical setbacks. It's a miracle any of us survive at all. I know that I stopped thinking about extreme grief as the sole vehicle for great art when the grief started to take people with it.

And I get it. The tortured artist is the artist that gets remembered for all time, particularly if they either perish or overcome. But the truth is that so many of us are stuck in the middle. So many of us begin tortured and end tortured, with only brief bursts of light in between, and I'd rather have average art and survival than miracles that come at the cost of someone's life. There will always be something great and tragic to celebrate and I am wondering, now, if I've had enough. I am, of course, in favor of letting all grief work through the body and manifest itself creatively. But what I'm less in favor of is the celebration of pain that might encourage someone to mine deeper into that unforgiving darkness, until it is impossible for them to climb out. I'm less in favor of anything that hurts and then becomes theater, if that theater isn't also working to heal the person experiencing pain. I, too, am somewhat obsessed with watching creations that feel like work. I am less drawn to the artist who at least appears to make it look easy. But our best work is the work of ourselves, our bodies and the people who want us to keep pushing, even if the days are long and miserable and even if there are moments when the wrong side of the bridge beckons you close. All things do not pass. Sometimes, that which does not kill you sits heavy over you until all of the things that did not kill you turn into a single counterforce that might. No matter what comes out of a person in these times, the work that we make when we feel like we no longer want to be alive is not the best work if it is also not work that, little by little, is pushing us back toward perhaps staying, even if just for a moment.

What I'm mostly saying, friends, is that I've lost too much. And everything sounds good when you know it was the last thing a person would ever make. All of the words sit more perfect on the page when they are the last words. What I'm mostly saying, friends, is that I am sad today. I am sad today, and I may be sad tomorrow. But I watched a video where rappers hung out of the roof of a car and threw money in slow motion, and it made me briefly consider another type of freedom. I am sad today, but I held, in my hands, a picture of me on a day where I was not sad. In it, the sunlight leaked over my face in a city I love, and my eyes were wide and eager. I am sad yesterday, and I might be sad tomorrow, and even the day after. But I will be here, looking for a way out, every time.

Staying is not always a choice, and I have lived and lost enough to know that. But the way I think about grief is that it is the great tug-of-war, and sometimes the flag is on the side you don't want it to be on. And sometimes, the game has exhausted all of its joy, and all that's left is you on your knees. But, today, even though I am sad, my hands are still on the rope. I am making my best work when my hands are on the rope, even if I'm not pulling back. Life is too long, despite the cliché. Too long, and sometimes too painful. But I imagine I have made it too far. I imagine, somewhere around some corner, the best part is still coming.

(from They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us)

[radskull-69]

explaining a oc thing I made for undertale (or any fandom really)

I’ve made some videos about them on my tiktok if u wanna see them! Kinda wanna make this a ARG or smth

silly guy named [REDACTED] is not from anywhere, technically their outside it all. Their only limit to existence is technology, not able to leave devices but can travel within it.

[REDACTED] is an entity really, and entities can go into fandoms and insert themselves into it as a character. But it acts more as a vessel for them, they do this for many reasons.

Food (different entities feed off of different things, emotions, attention, etc.)

For their or the viewers entertainment (they are aware they’re being watched)

they need a home and a fandom or place, it helps them exist.

they get a attachment or infatuated with the fandom or character(s)

some entity’s can take a liking to a character so much they insert themselves into the characters body, altering them depending how good they are at possessing someone:

if they’re sloppy it’s fairy obvious since the character will have some features the entity had.

if they a expert you wouldn’t notice any changes aside from small habits that can be brushed off.

all entities have a ‘human’ form, or at least a form that fits into the world’s aesthetic they’re currently in. So they can’t change Willy nilly into whatever they want, it’s either their true form or their human form.

[REDACTED] didn’t have a home to settle in for a while, hopping between several that none caught their eye. But eventually found UNDERTALE, the one world they became infatuated with.

[REDACTED] forcefully inserted themselves into that timeline, altering the memories of the characters into believing they’ve been friends for years even though they just met.

But of course eventually thanks to sans natural awareness he was able realise [REDACTED] wasn’t the friendly human they made themselves seem thanks to the slip ups they constantly made.

he couldn’t remember how they met, when they moved in with sans and his brother. Whenever he calls their ‘name’ (rad) they are often slow to respond, as if it’s not their real name.

when [REDACTED] see’s he’s catching on they immediately ‘reset’ the world, how they do this is by killing all the characters and then rebuild them from the pieces. altering the world and the characters slightly each time so they only remember what they want them to remember

it’s basically this video here

Y/n is a entity that lives in undertale before [REDACTED] had came along, though y/n did not know they weren’t originally from this world and also a entity, this whole time they thought themselves human.

[REDACTED] Watches from the sidelines when y/n’s vessel dies of old age due to being so convinced their human their body follows along with the role. A entities mindset affects their life gradually.

[REDACTED] re-inserts themselves into sans life to ‘bring y/n back to life’ despite not particularly liking them, only doing it to bring out the vulnerable feelings of sans desperately trying to get his lover back, At the cost of [REDACTED] possessing his body slowly over time.

ofc [REDACTED] isn’t really gonna bring y/n back, making sans have false hope and a reason he can’t leave [REDACTED] or else there’s no chance to bring back y/n

During this phase whenever sans messes up or tries to stop [REDACTED] will kill him before resetting and trying to start again, each time the universe is a bit more different than the original. And each time sans remember’s the resets and what [REDACTED] did to him bit by bit

whenever sans dies he briefly meets y/n in limbo, and always forgets about it when he’s brought back.

eventually sans remembers too much and actually snaps from the intense feelings and having a part of what [REDACTED] in him, sans was tipped over the edge and killed [REDACTED] by pushing them off the bridge, making it look like a suicide.

traumatised with awareness of the resets, how he’ll never get y/n back, just killing someone AND having a piece of that person still inside you sans slowly started to succumb to the urges [REDACTED] still had over him through the unfinished possessing thingy.

sans is unfortunately able to see visions and hallucinations of [REDACTED] so commonly he’s only annoyed by it at this point, kinda like dust sans and papyrus.

sans doesn’t tell anyone about this and keeps it to himself while [REDACTED] slowly takes over him.

!uoy teem ot eciN

[tragically-atlas]

Tell me where to put the anger.

It fills my veins fierce and swift, overwhelming all else in the moment. How do others find the audacity to be cruel or wicked in a world that needs love? Where do they get off when it comes to hurting those around them?

Tell me where to put the anger.

I feel my nails break skin where my shaking hands form clenched fists. In a world that desperately needs good, honest truth, we're consistently faced with lies, half-truths, and secrets. Where do we go for the truth when the media has been pulled into the political game and they no longer care about the welfare of the general people? How can they bear having a hand in all the chaos that's crushing our country from within?

Tell me where to put the anger.

I grind my teeth in frustration and I can taste iron on my tongue. It seems like those with power only have it because they're rich enough to line the pockets of those who value money more. And the rich get richer and everyone else gets poorer. I can't help but think of the homeless in the streets, and kids stuck in broken homes, and how the cost of living gets more expensive and how we're all working until we die. I wear exhaustion like a second skin, world weary. I'm twenty-six and I'm so mad at the state of things and how we're leaving things worse off for the younger generations.

Tell me where to put the anger.

I'm terrified for the world we're growing up in and even more so for the world the younger generations will grow to see. I know there is a lot of good in the world too; things that tamper down the bad and kindle the hope in our hearts. It's just that there's so much wrong and broken everywhere we look and those who have the power to effect change are too busy with a foot in political games and a hand in how the media tells it's story. And I can feel the fury building with every shooting, amber alert, death by violence/overdose/suicide, and every other injustice in and out of the media. It's just that there are so many things that need fixing and it's like we're stuck staring at the problem with no solution in sight. Where is the justice? Where is the care?

And so I grip my anger tight. I let it burn my hands and scar. And when I reach out, I soften it; molding it into something less sharp. I can still feel the fury filling me up, but I refuse to put it back out into the world. I began the slow untangling of the hurt and anger and fill the spaces in between with kindness, hope, and compassion. I plant my roots in grace and mercy and love, healing the hurt as best I can. It may not be enough to effect visible change, but I take the role anyway and pray and pray and pray that something sticks and spreads. I leave the justice up to God and focus on what good I can put out into the world.

I take my anger and leave it in God's hands where it belongs.

KM

[creepywrites]

Relationships

Warning: mentions of manipulation, sexual abuse, suicide, emotional abuse and self harm.                                   

            Johnathan and Emra

They aren't in a relationship anymore, but the two used to be your typical loving couple, however as time went on they slowing started drifting apart, not as many meetups and barely any texts or calls.

Johnathan suffered from depression for a big portion of his life, and he started doing better, however close to the 2 year mark of their relationship, he suddenly felt even worse, he could barely leave his dorm. He stopped taking care of himself and even though he felt guilty, he couldn't manage getting out of bed to meet up with Emra.

Emra would sometimes go visit him and check up on him now and again to see how he's holding up, though going weeks to months with no contact she wasn't sure if they were even dating anymore, and moved away to a university that will ensure her future.

Now that he was alone and had nothing else, he committed suicide later the next day, leaving a note about how he still loved Emra dearly.

They knew each other long before dating, and eventually Johnathan asked her out, Emra was so happy because she was to shy, afraid he'd reject her.

They loved to cuddle on the couch together in one of each other's dorm.

when Jonathan could afford it, he'd buy Emras favourite flowers. Meanwhile, Emra would try out her new nail polishes on him. She also would make some hot cocoa or tea when he's sad.

They'd go on walks through a park walking trail a lot to try and improve Johnathan's mental health, Emra loved it going jogging and long walks and thought it'd help him, too.

They both loved going to theatres or musicals together, they did it rarely, usually for a celebration because of the cost, it made going there more special.

Emra taught Johnathan how to dance.

             Wilson the basher and rouge

They met before Wilson was a Proxy, Rouge attacked him and his friends, completely butchering one of them. 1 year later Rouge completely forgot about him and Wilson wasn't paying attention on what she looked like, Wilson became infected and she stalked him, noticing his mark, and they eventually got to know each other.

They were in this weird phase where no one asked each other out, it kind of just happened until Rouge made it official and asked him out.

They're quite protective of each other, even though they can both take care of themselves, they still want to look after one another.

They don't really show much affection for each other, it's mainly so it doesn't get in the way of their work, but in general they aren't the most affectionate people.

They have each other's names tattooed on their wrist so if they'll remember the other in case they forget.

They alway kill together, in the beginning Rouge would finish the job as quick but efficient as she can, because she stresses not knowing if Wilson is okay.

Rouge helps him with his if she's done hers because he's very messy and careless, unlike her who is a lot more stealthy and careful.

Rouge has to constantly keep Wilson out of trouble.

They like going for jogs in the forest.

Once a week they try and make time to have a drink together, it's a special occasion for them.

They sleep together most of the time, whether it's in a cabin or out in the woods. Wilson likes resting on her chest.

Rouge sometimes lets Wilson draw on her self harm scars. He mainly draws spirals, references from his favourite comics, or stars.

Wilson is the only one who knows of Rouges actual name, Heather. He only uses it in private.

                         Keith and Randy

They met in middle school, and started hanging out after being paired together and becoming friends.

They started dating at 15 and 16.

During the first months they were dating in secret until Keith's parents found out and kicked him out,

than they were open to friends.

Bridgette didn't like them dating, however she trusted him to make his own decisions.

The relationship was at its worst when Randy was acting different and acting disgusted towards his advances, especially when others were around, only to later be interested again and back to disgust, Keith didn't know why.

There wasn't much communication between the two.

He assumed Randy was cheating because of occasional visible hickeys.

That's when he felt forced to tell Keith about his coworker, Lilith, he tried being caring but never really understood.

Keith waited for him when he was sent to prison.

Randy pierced Keith's ears, two on his lobe and his eyebrow, but that one rejected.

Randy tried teaching him Spanish, but he only managed to pick up a few sentences.

They help each other with their mental health and understand if one needs space and tries to be patient.

They encouraged each other's bad habits.

Randy calls him babe.

Keith calls him babe, and darling.

                

         Clockwork and Toby

Toby met Clockwork after she wandered into one of Slenderman's territories and unwittingly set up her camp there.

The camp was spotted by Toby whilst he was doing a nightly patrol and went to investigate and silently poke around the campsite, where he was then promptly ambushed by Clockwork from behind as soon as he went to check the tent.

They didn't kill each other because they was trying to quit and didn't seem dangerous.They were hesitant at first, but after being around each other and taking into account that he didn't kill her, Clockwork asked him out and they started dating.

Toby would always try and do his best in the relationship, because he didn't want to be like his dad and although it wasn't always perfect, they did their best with what they had.

Toby sometimes forgot about her because of his sickness, he carved Clocky into his stomach to remember.

They were really open with each other and always tried communicating to one another.

They could be always be their normal selves around each other without any judgement.

They were always together, they'd help each other when they'd have nightmares, flashbacks or when Toby was having a schizophrenia episode.

Clockwork would always worry when Toby went out, so she'd always go with him from afar because she never knew if he would come back or not and it'd always make her anxious.

Toby always reassured her, and Clockwork tries to have trust in him.

Toby never told her, but found it annoying when she kept following him when he told Clockwork not to worry.

After he killed himself, Clockwork never found out and assumed someone got to him, dreaming of him being tortured and in agony.

After she hadn't seen him for a few weeks and refused to believe she couldn't find him, she couldn't accept his death.

She had such mixed emotions, Clockwork was so mad, yet so sad, she trusted him and just left her. He left her wondering why she wasn't enough.

It took her years to come to terms that he died.

Clockwork wears his jacket all the time now to remember him.

Clockwork wanted to do cnc, but Toby was uncomfortable with the idea of it and him being asexual.

Clockwork was irritated because she assumed it was because of past sexual trauma and Toby was infantilising her.

He is the only one who knows her actual name, Natalie. Though Toby never calls her it because he was worried she'd get upset.

Toby supported her when she was thinking about not killing anymore, and was going to go through it with her.

Sometimes they'd just go for a long walk in a pine wood forest together and not talk.

They'd always sleep together, Clockwork was usually the big spoon.

Her nicknames for him are babe, sweetheart and handsome.

He'd call her sweetheart, Clocky, babe and honey.

       Roadwalker and Sadie

They met while they were both trying to steal the same house and they decided to compromise and be roommates.

They became friends very quickly and Sadie asked her out in a few months.

They're very open with each other and don't keep many secrets from each other, although Sadie only started being more honest with how she's feeling a few years into the relationship, not wanting to be annoying.

Sadie gets intrusive thoughts about the relationship, she used to always second guess herself.

They like snuggling together, they usually talk about what's on their mind and watch their favourite movies.

They've always wanted kids, they are very good with them and always look after some dead kids. They've even adopted some, these being Sam, Milo, Iris, Lily and Lacy.

They have karaoke night once a month.

Sadie is very protective of Roadwalker and rarely leaves her side.

Roadwalker loves animals, and she likes dragging Sadie along to feed just about any animal they come across, Sadie likes feeding the ducks the most.

They help each other with their mental health and emotional needs, especially Roadwalker when Sadie goes into a deep depressive state.

Roadwalker can be very impulsive and Sadie is making sure she doesn't do anything to crazy.

They have matching feather earrings.

                     Hannah and Victoria

They met when they were 10 and 11, Victoria had gotten her hand stuck in a vending machine and Hannah had gotten her unstuck.

Hannah was hesitant to become friends with her but they became best friends afterwards ever since.

Later dating in high school until after Hannah's incident when she runs away, assumed dead.

Hannah had a crush on Victoria before everything happened, in middle school. She gave her a ring pop, and said they were gonna get married.

They aren't dating anymore, after being years away from each other the feelings died down over time, but are still very close friends and help her with Johnny and Haley.

They did each other each other's makeup, they loved it because they had vastly different makeup styles.

Hannah taught Vicky how to swear in German.

Hannah influenced one of Victoria's styles.

Hannah didn't think she could find someone to date before Victoria.

    Victoria and Randy

They met in middle school, but the crush didn't start until Victoria saw him sitting on a bench late after school, he had gotten in an argument with Bridgette's boyfriend at the time and wanted to stay out of the house for awhile. Victoria sat with him and gave him advice and much needed encouragement.

He developed a crush and to make her notice he'd occasionally bully her, because it's what he saw at home. Eventually he realised it doesn't work like that, apologised and they continued being acquaintances.

The crush didn't last but he still cares about her, and hopes one day Vicky can get her life back together and be like her old self again.

         

        

Jeff and Jane Arkensaw

They met at middle school, they were in the same class.

Jane and Jeff had a crush on each other after finishing middle school, neither of them asked each other out because they were to shy. They hanged out a lot when her dad was out working, he was one of the only one that treated Jane like her age.

They were both were starting to take an innocent crush to an obsession, Jane eventually realises and after Victoria gently mentions how unhealthy it's starting to be, Jane backs off and keeps contact at a minimum.

Jeff had no idea why she didn't want to see him as much and thought he messed up the relationship; this made him want her more.

Jeff gave her a shark plushie when he found out it was her favourite animal.

Jane now has very complicated feelings about him, she doesn't like him anymore, only who he once was, and believes she can bring him back to his old self.

Jane the killer and Mary Vaughn

They met in high school, Mary was getting bullied, and Jane protected her. They very quickly became friends afterwards, they fell for each other around the same time, 1 year later, Mary was the one to ask her out.

Jane said yes, and they dated for 10 years before l getting engaged and then married.

They like to cuddle together on the couch watching their respective favourite shows.

They used to go on dates a lot, however as they got older and the longer they were together, they stopped caring as much about dates.

They used to go on picnics together.

They adopted Alex not long after marrying each other.

They take Alex, their son, to a park a lot and have alone time there.

                           David and Vailly

They met while Vailly was looking after his dog.

David was infatuated by her looks and loved how kind she was, he completely thought they were soulmates.

Every weekend she came over for his dog, he would wait for her in the lounge to start chatting, each session getting more intense, trying to give tips, getting mad when she continuously refused, giving gifts and buying her food, ect.

Vailly found it odd but didn't want to judge.

He tailed Vailly to her house numerous times, David escorted Vailly to her place at night once and memorised her address.

After he sent a bunch of old letters to her address, she stopped showing up to his place and had gotten a restraining order.

David thought she was finally taking notice of him, and went to her house while she was at work to surprise her with a birthday gift.

When she freaked out and rejected him, he killed her and gouged her eye as a keepsake.

                           Sully and Vailly

They met when Sully and his friends were was looking for Jane, Sully wanted to talk to her as she was one of the only other ghost he met, Vailly was hesitant but was willing to talk because he was also dead felt he could be more trusted.

They were friends for 5 years before they started dating, vailly asked him out first.

Vailly guides Sully when in unfamiliar places.

It didn't take long for Sully to realise how insecure Vailly is, he does basic things with her hair to try and make her feel better.

She's more confident and outspoken around him.

They help each other with their depressive episodes, being patient and understanding as much as they can.

Early on they had to learn to communicate with each other and set boundaries.

They found it difficult at first, both reacting out of instinct and fear when a misunderstanding or argument happened.

When Liu distanced himself, it caused Sully to become distant from her, Vailly was worried for him and the relationship until he found the courage to talk about it.

She calls him sweetheart.

He calls her babe.

Nightmare Ally and Weeping Forest

Ally met Weeping Forest at her original hometown, she went in thinking it was another forest Ally could reside in for a while, only to realise it was a town and encountering Weeping Forest.

Ally was overwhelmed by weeping forest's emotions, turning herself into the nightmare form, but this made her become hostile towards Ally.

She left but kept coming back to see her.

Weeping Forest took notice of this, and though she was extremely lonely and wanted nothing more to have at least 1 friend, she didn't want to completely let down her guard; even if Ally was shy. That is until Ally started opening up more did she start to become friends with it.

Ally even eventually convinced Weeping Forest to leave her home, something she hasn't done since she killed everyone.

Weeping Forest had a crush on it first, but refused to confess and even buried her feelings because of what happened to her.

Ally confessed 5 years into the relationship, and Weeping Forest accepted with little thought.

Ally is the only one who knows of her real name, Jenifer.

Forest often helps Ally with her delusions, she's very familiar with them from helping Oliver.

Forest made 2 pair of rings out of twigs with a flower on top for the both of them.

She even made Ally a flower crown, she loves it and wears the crown most of the time.

They are always together and very protective of each other, especially when Ally is "recharging".

She knew about its "charging", but didn't necessarily know how long it would take, so when Ally was still unresponsive for weeks Weeping Forest started to stress something went wrong.

Weeping Forest likes to cuddle up with Ally when she's like this, she puts an arm around and her head on top of Ally.

Ally is very clingy and loves cuddling and holding hands with Weeping Forest, she can also get jealous when Forest is hanging out with others without it.

Weeping Forest calls her love and dear.

Ally calls her sweetheart, baby and gorgeous.

Gas mask maid and Red death

They met in high school but were only acquaintances, until they reunited years later when they were working together, though Sifreid was very distant from her because he didn't want to hurt her with the creature inside him.

Gas mask was working with him but he ran off, she tried looking for him believing that if they could become friends they'd be able to perform better.

She however saw him wounded, and rushed to his side to give him medical attention, this was not only when he thought she looked familiar, but she also started to realise why he was distancing himself after he started attacking her.

Gas mask maid completely butchered his right eye, unknowingly removing the ghost inside.

She fixes him up to the best of her abilities, and they quickly became friends, 10 months later they started dating and got married 2 years later. Sifreid was the one to propose.

They had 1 kid and pair of twins, Arik, Leila and Emilia.

They all live a fairly peaceful life after having the kids, living in a house at California.

Marion loves them, but does wish they had them later in life.

They love going on dates and cuddling on the couch watching movies together.

They learned how to make sushi together.

Gas mask maid lets him borrow her manga.

Sifreid calls her darling.

Gas mask maid calls him sweetheart and babe.

Jessica and Taylor

They met when Jessica was running away from The Slenderman and ran into Taylor.

She was very worried about Jessica and insisted she help.

Jessica was worried about getting another person involved again, but was thankful for the help and decided completely isolating herself from people isn't going to help, and became friends.

They started dating 7 years later.

Taylor always reminds Jessica to take her meds and fills in the blanks.

Jessica tried to hide The Operator from her as long as possible because she was afraid it'd scare Taylor off or she'd think Jessica was crazy.

Taylor has been pushing her to go hiking again, something she loved doing.

After being hounded by Slenderman they decided to scrounge up some money and move far away to at least get away from bad memories.

They visited  Amy, Seth, Brian and Alex's grave for one last time.

Jessica loves doing new things with Taylor's hair.

Jessica calls her babe.

Taylor calls her darling.

Moth boy and Starved Angel

The Starved Angel, and the Moth Boy met by coincidence when Lyet was searching for a meal to eat, only to be disappointed with Moth Boy's state of decay. Despite being frightened by the other's appearance, Moth Boy decided to try to talk to the angel in order to get to know them.

They ve been inseperable ever since, trying their best to give each other comfort in these dark times.

Moth boy and Lyet having similar personalities and situation is what made them get a long so fast.

Moth boy is his guide, always bringing him along to new, safe, places, unless Lyet smells food, then he usually knows where to go.

The ghost, Angel, intimidates Moth boy slightly, but tries to stay on good terms.

Moth boy tries to help him with the ghost, talking down Angel, ignoring it, ect. But knows little about it.

He doesn't like it when Lyet is always doing drugs to avoid it and tries to find an alternative.

He patched Lyets head to try and ease the pain.

They are always trying to make each other's life slightly easier and improve their mental health.

Moth boy calls him babe.

Lyet calls him mothy.

Hunter and Rosie

They met once Hunter became a proxy, he was an enforcer but always treated Rosie better than everyone else, she did what she was told because he intimidated her from size alone.

They got to know each other quickly because Hunter always wanted to go with her, see how she works.

Rosie asked him out first, after 6 years knowing each other.

After she found out he was mute, she started learning more sign language.

She didn't tell him about her other life until they started dating for a while.

He often helps her with her kids and cooking, she lets him stay in Bill's old study room.

Rosie really wants to marry him one day and share last names.

They have photos of each other to not forget about each other.

Hunter eventually introduced her to the pills to help with the slender sickness.

He likes to look at cars and talk non stop about them to Rosie.

Rosie told him her real name, Dorothy. Hunter couldn't as he doesn't remember.

They often watch bad romcoms together.

Liu and Susan

They met when Liu was a patient in psych after Jeff attacked him and was deemed a danger to himself.

They started dating in secret 2 days after getting to know each other.

Liu felt like she understood him like no one else could, he put her on a very high pedestal.

Susan would always protect him against other patients and staff, even the smallest threats, she was there to save him and he appreciated it a lot.

Susan visited him at night during check ins, she cuddled with him when asleep, when awake they'd often make out or occasionally have sex.

Liu was out in 6 months and they kept in contact until he disappeared because his life became a lot more complicated and he didn't want to involve her, not knowing she was pregnant.

She assumed he fell out of love and moved on with her life.

Susan debated on whether to keep the baby or not, but ultimately decided to keep it assuming she'd only get 1, not triplets.

She died 10 years later because of epilepsy.

Liu had no idea until he was contacted about his kids.