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theglassesgirl · 1 day ago

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The Ithaca Saga: What IS a Monster, how it’s presented, and when fictional S.A is integral to the plot.

So -

This was originally a response to @ / anniflamma which you can still find on my page unedited. But with the new discourse surrounding the suitors, I figured I could retool it as a standalone essay to express a topic I’ve been trying to pin down for a while now; What exactly does the mean when they call a character a monster? What do they do, do the reasons matter, and how does the subject of rape affect how the fandom consider some monsters more unforgivable than others? When IS rape in fiction “necessary” and why such questions defeat the purpose of exploratory creative works.

In this post we will discuss all the major antagonists of the Epic Musical, Penelope’s agency, the label of Monster and the types of moralizing one might do when faced with uncomfortable subjects in fiction and how to prevent these feelings from blinding is about what a story is trying to say.

For those who read my original response; there’s new content to read here and posts that will be referred to, if you’d like to give it another gander!

Thank you,

Let’s begin;

I think making the threat of rape explicit was very much needed, actually.

It’s come to my attention that there are people here and on tiktok who are so uncomfortable with the subject matter in this CENTURIES old tale that they’re both refusing to accept that it plays an important part in the original poem and musical, AND are bizarrely insisting that Jorge should have magically done away with it to make more palatable.

This is beyond juvenile - it’s a clear sign of media illiteracy.

What, if I may ask, do you think it means when you say that the suitors are going to force Penelope to choose one of them to marry.

You may respond that they want to take over Ithaca. That they want to be king. But take a moment to consider what forcing a woman to marry one of them will entail. I wonder if you think that one can divorce the idea of sexual violence in this plot.

It would be…unfathomably difficult to do so. Because you CANT. There is an implicit threat of Penelope’s will breaking and having to have unwilling and reluctant sex with any one of them in the event she just gave up and picked one.

This isn’t a storyline that depicts Penelope of being willing to marry any of the suitors. She is WAITING for her husband’s return. Even if he doesn’t, she doesn’t WANT to marry someone else. Her consent is being violated by the very merit of them being in her palace, eating her food, and threatening her son.

They’re doing ALL OF THIS in order to bend her will in the HOPES of raping her as a bonus to becoming king of Ithaca.

My contention is the use of “unnecessary” when it comes to this trope in media - though themes of rape can be uncomfortable, to call them unnecessary HAVE to meet certain criteria. Which this specific instance doesn’t.

By observing various responses, it’s clear that the threat of rape went completely over many’s head in this instance of the story. So I very must appreciate Jorge making it SO clear that it’s upsetting.

This part of the odyssey, and the musical, is very much about Penelope suffering under the threat of assault for YEARS. In the same way Odysseus was (a thing I touched upon in my calypso essay, in terms of his ambiguous situation in the musical) - it’s a parallel that works as both Antinous and Calypso were introduced (regardless on your personal interpretation of what Calypso did or did not do, but that’s neither here nor there).

It has taken an emotional and psychological toll of either spouse. And the kicker is that neither of them are freed of this situation on their own - they are both rescued by outside forces. Athena/Hermes helps free Odysseus; Athena/Odysseus will help free Penelope.

The looming threat of rape is SO necessary that it helps the catharsis factor we feel toward PENELOPE’s story - it’s nothing to do w Odysseus who by now is a force of nature as big as Poseidon, his actions happen TO her, and it’s up to her to decide (per “would you love me” ) what she feels about that. She can very well reject him! She’s suffered under male violence for YEARS. Odysseus’s violence and those of the suitors toward her are basis enough for the comparison.

Do all men, including her husband, become violent? Does she want to put up with that? We know from her song snippets that she is NOT a woman that simply succumbs to the Rape Rescue trope as suggested by ignorant consumers of media - and I call it ignorance and consumerism because there’s a clear lack of engaging with the material in an intuitive way. It’s just blind consumption - as if one bites into a burger and find a pickle, which you personally don’t like, and having it removed - you can’t treat ART that way .

Penelope is a very intuitive and emotionally intelligent queen. Stop infantilizing her. Her own husband suggests that like the suitors, his actions make him just as bad as they are and presents his hope as being understanding if she rejects him on those grounds. But those ARENT her grounds. She has full autonomy and can make a distinction FOR HERSELF whether she considers her husband equal to the monsters who have harmed her.

So let’s talk about the “Monster” label as it is presented on the entire musical.

Some have erroneously suggested that Odysseus has been given an out to commit cruel and ruthless deeds with out “good justification” - he does it for his family,, after all!

Which is a misunderstanding of everything every antagonist of each saga has done.

Let’s start with the Troy Saga: Odysseus has killed a BABY. He made the choice to put his family over this child. Everything he has done and lost would be for literally NOTHING if he hadn’t, as even if he had killed the suitors and regained everything - the GODS themselves would make sure that child would come to an aged Odysseus and slaughter him, Penelope, Telemachus and his entire kingdom when he came of age.

Odysseus STARTS as a monster. We have been rooting for the man who laid Troy and its children asunder. As such, the label of a monster is NOT so much a morally subjective label - it simply a thing that IS. Or rather. It is what ALL the antagonists ARE, but it’s hardly a condemnation of any of them.

(Peep that one of the first lines Ody says refers back to in the Vengeance Saga is what he did to Troy - he STILL views his actions over there as unforgivable, so not even HE will ever see himself otherwise, the problem was that he felt so guilty over it that he became a detriment (a different kind of monster) to his friends and family when they were all guilty of the same thing and trying to get home.)

ALL of the antagonists have a “good reason” to kill ALL the soldiers (who again, have looted and slaughtered the Trojans) Odysseus and his close friends included. Whether your AGREE is almost irrelevant…because the story itself proposes that it’s irrelevant.

The next saga introduces the cyclops: his motivation is primarily that his FRIENDS the sheep have been slaughtered. You can argue in the scope of things, you can’t empathize with this but it’s his good reason. He’s the son of a god, and these sheep are all he has. His friends, who matter to him as much as Polites does to Ody, are being taken and slain, he is being drugged, attacked and maimed. VERY much was Ody goes through in the final saga. And even so.

The Cyclops is antagonistic to the party, he’s a monster who feels justified killing to avenge his killed sheep. A monster is a thing he IS.

As Poseidon’s son, he asks his father to kill the 600 men who have ransacked his home and beat on him. He doesn’t view his father as being wrong for this. In the same ways Ody and Telemachus don’t waste any time addressing the slain suitors later on. Poseidon is a monster of a god - it’s just a thing he is. Not even being stabbed 100 times is enough to repay the harm he’s done - to most everyone, not just Ody, but we are not asked to quantify that. Just live with it.

Circe has killed NUMEROUS men over the years. HER “good reason” is that something bad happened to her nymphs when she let a stranger in her islands. She doesn’t even promise that she WONT kill in the future - her song ends w the suggestion that the world may continue to need her to puppeteer! Because she does not exist to be “redeemed” - she is somewhat more reasonable and capable of empathy than even the likes Athena, who being a greater and more powerful god, does not have the one on one affection to her follows as Circe does. She’s a monster! It’s a label, a thing she IS.

So here we begin to ask; is it LOVE that gives people the capacity to do monstrous things? Because the cyclops loved his sheep friends, Poseidon loves his son, Circe loves her nymphs.

And by now you’re saying now wait a minute didn’t the Underworld Saga go over this? Why yes it did! And Odysseus decides to “become the monster” - he already IS one by the standards of the cyclops, Poseidon, Troy - they all see him as a monstrous being. But he accepts that, after being one in Troy, he held back and ruined the lives of his men, making him a monster to THEM. His “good reason” for being so!

He attempts very hard to be the General he was in Troy and prioritize them going home, sparing no sympathy towards his enemies - but in the Thunder Saga we see the gods further push him to be completely self-serving like they are. The sun gods cows are harmed, he sends Zeus in relation - his “good reason” being his friend were personally harmed.

Odysseus’s “good reason” is ultimately decided to be the same good reason he had to slaughter the Trojans - to get back home to his wife and son.

Like with the Cyclops sheep, Circe’s nymphs, The Sun gods cows, and Poseidons son, WE are shocked and made to feel some type of way about Odyseuss’s reasoning. Surely HIS personal suffering shouldn’t cost the lives of “innocent” men…but it does! It surely does.

He is a monster. It’s just a thing he IS.

Now, Odysseus spends the next seven years under the thumb of ANOTHER monster. And through calypso own reasoning, despite her tragic backstory, her “good reason” she IS a monster. She’s incapable of understanding why she wasn’t reciprocated. Incapable of empathizing with a human because as a god who has spent eternity alone, it stands to reason she, like all the other monsters mentioned before, prioritizes HER personal suffering over everyone else’s. In some versions she either kills herself or does spend the rest of eternity alone. She’s a monster. This is a thing she IS.

Now what the HELL does all this have to do with the suitors?

Odysseus started the musical a MONSTER. He’s worn different hats, but it is what he IS. It’s a label, not a moral critique.

ALL of the antagonists of every saga have a “good reason” NONE of them are ruthless for ruthlessness sake! It’s immaterial whether you agree with them or not, but to understand them for what they are.

Odysseus is the antagonist of the ithica saga, md while the suitors are the antagonist to him and his family, we see their fate form THEIR POV

The suitors could not have been depicted as “rude youthful men” like Telemachus. That Odysseus killing them should be shocking - a frightening condemnation of everything he’s done and became. But I ask once again - in what world are the suitors not implicitly set up as monsters?

Because again. They aren’t being rude for rudeness’s sake! They aren’t JUST eating Penelope’s food and sleeping in HER house. Them threatening Telemachus, as you propose, isn’t “enough” of a reason because they didn’t wake up one day beefing w this boy. Everything they do is for the express purpose of sexual violence towards the Queen of Ithaca, who upon assaulting, will make it so any one of them will be King.

You can’t separate the one from the other. You get a nonsense scenario. The whole REASON they’re there in the first place.

Even if you create a fanfic where 108 men wake up one day and raid the palace to slaughter the royal family with no intent of sexually assaulting either (because remember Telemachus is also the subject of Hold Em Down) and then fight amongst themselves to be the next king, but then isn’t that STILL a “good reason” for Odysseus to slaughter them?

Now I hear what you may be asking: but if all the monsters of the sagas, Odysseus included, have a “good reason” even though we might not agree with it, what kind of monsters does that make the suitors? Surely and clearly THEY aren’t doing what they’re doing for noble reasons.

I consider them akin to the 600 men who died under their captains command.

Because, as stated before. Odysseus views his actions in a Troy as his start of monstrosity. He did all that to finish the war and do back home. He ruined the lives of all Trojans.

So did his soldiers.

The only moment in time (even in the deleted songs) that the bulk of them repent about the war is in terms that it left them without food.

But glasses! They were just following orders!

Which is what one of the suitors suggest in song 38. Their serpents head is dead, THEY were just going with Antinous’ flow, they are innocent.

Like the 600 soldiers, the 108 suitors sacked a home that wasn’t theirs and harmed a wife and child - does them being the queen and prince pale in comparison to the hundreds of wives and children slain in Troy? Homer is a genius to ask us to see these parallels for what it is.

The suitors ARE monsters. That is simply what all 108 of them are. In the context of the story itself, their intent is to break Penelope’s will, commit martial rape, and become king of Ithaca. They aren’t there for kicks, they aren’t ignorant boys, they’re socially accepted adults abusing the hospitality rule with an express purpose.

So a GROUP of monsters are slaughtered by ANOTHER monster, and though in this instance we can argue it’s morally justifiable, it doesn’t take away from Odysseus’s fear of being rejected by his family. He has ruined the lives of the Trojans, his men, AND multiple gods! To get to this point. He IS a monster. And the story asks US, through Penelope, if he is still worth loving.

Seeing Penelope as merely his reward is so backwards and bizarre. It’s very clear that bad faith interpretations of her are based on objectifying her erroneously, when the narrative presents her as a fully developed character.

In the story both in the poem and the musical that the suitors ARE NOT her guests. She is being sequestered against her will.

In what world could the suitors be “just” murderers and not….very clearly rapists? It’s BUILT into their motivation. You would have to change the very FOUNDATION of the Ithaca plot line and Penelope herself??? To say nothing of Telemachus’s role!

What’s the proposal here? That Penelope invited these suitors? That’s she’s actively looking for a replacement husband? Okay, again, that changes literally SO MUCH of the story, but wouldn’t that put Telemachus in a position where he too has to change? Does he resent his mother for doing this? Is he helping his dad out of spite or because he wants him back? How are we meant to view Penelope in this radically new and hip Epic the Musical? Is she savvy and in her right to choose a new boo? Okay…okay, so then….you want Odysseus to be the only one unchanged and go axe crazy because….hes jealous? He kills these upstanding men….curtain call. That’s all folks!

Absurdity at its finest. You throw Penelope’s agency out the window. Her weaving and unweaving her loom is meaningless or simply doesn’t happen. Or maybe it’s that she wakes up one day and goes hey yknow what I WILL consider marrying one of these guys with no sense of dread and fear. Oh wait Oddy has killed then all! Never mind me feeling unsafe a week ago, he’s done a Bad.

Crazy.

It’s just…not going to end up making Penelope look like a well written female character if Jorge has done what you wanted! THAT would make her a mindless prop. You seem to think she is one, and that’s not the case. Historically, in fact!

She is a whole person in the poem and musical whether you understand it or not. You would have to argue so thoroughly why she sucks and let me assure you - there are entire DISSERTATIONs on why you’d be incorrect.

So, no.

No, you CANT take away the rape in Penelope’s storyline. It matters ALOT. It’s the ROOT of the matter! Could old school vegetales make something up that’s more to your sensibilities? Maybe at its peak but god, I couldn’t possibly come up with a draft that could reflect that. I won’t even try.

The rape aspect of the Ithica Saga isn’t unnecessary - it’s INTEGRAL to the plot. It can make you uncomfortable, but it’s BUILT into the royal family’s suffering whether it’s explicit or not! And it SHOULD be explicit! Because you seem to think because it usually isn’t, that the rape aspect isn’t there!

I cannot imagine coming to this kind of conclusion.

They are not random men going on a siege of the palace one day - you cannot “sanitize” the SUITORS because by the very merit of them calling each other THE SUITORS there is an implicit threat of sexual violence. Because Penelope doesn’t WANT suitors. She rejects them. They’re already violating her consent.

How the FUCK to do you censor the rape when it’s in every action they take? And I know what you’re saying: but didn’t Jorge censor the rape aspect that both Circe and Calypso commit towards him?

Further reading: suggests that ALLUDING to it is not the same as censoring, that it still FITS the PURPOSE of these characters in regards to Odysseus’s suffering under them. That after ambiguity, it is NECESSARY to make the rape aspect CLEAR in order to create both catharsis and MEANING at the end of the narrative. The THEME is still respected and present, it is not REMOVED. Please consider reading the linked follow up that answers this question.

In short.

It’s truly a matter of using one’s goddamn head when it comes to view fictional depictions of rape as “necessary” - because though some depictions can be presented BADLY, to suggest they should not EXISTS lends itself to rape culture. It silences the voices of victims. Its representation denied. Don’t talk about it, don’t even suggest it, because rape is bad.

It’s an action that happens to people. It’s a crime in civilized society. It’s a physical and psychological trauma that has always been. It happens daily, in fact. Though epic the musical is a source of entertainment for you, it doesnt exist solely for that purpose.

When Homer included it within his original oral story, he did so as a storyteller trying to get his audience to philosophize, not simply have fun.

I think we’ve come to some abysmal conclusion that men can’t write about these topics when we have historical evidence of at least one man knowing what the hell he’s talking about. And Jorge has done a phenomenal job even when he hadn’t depicted blatantly.

If you’re uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to see it at all, that is entirely on you, art and creative works allow us to explore these topics safely. Whether it��s from the POV of the assailant or one of the victims commenting on it, fiction is one of the only places we can talk about it and learn about ourselves in a way it doesn’t harm real people.

I don’t even want to BEGIN discussing all the losers who are still harassing Antinous fans or people who genuinely enjoy his song despite/BECAUSE of the subject matter. Its purpose in the story matters more than you policing how it’s presented and how it’s consumed. No amount of people enjoying themselves will take away the foundational POINT of the character and song. It’s perfect the way it is.

Like with the chaos that calypso discourse wrought, you cannot control how people treat a NOT REAL CHARACTER or the songs they sing - if it bothers you that one type of fictional villian is treated one way or another, it is on you to find likeminded people instead of going into others faces and pretending to be a self-righteous prick. You can throw whatever buzzwords you want, the CONTEXT these characters live in has nothing to do with how others want to play with them. If you don’t understand the difference between the two instances, fandom is certainly not for you and will not be changed to suit your sensibilities.

To end this post, I want to thank those who further asked me questions and bounced ideas off with me, and wow, what a phenomenal ending to a grandiose musical. I hope I can see it live, animated, streamed, developed into a game etc whatever form it takes now that the concept albums are published

Thank you all for engaging w my work💖

#epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga #epic penelope #epic odysseus #epic antinous #epic telemachus #epic calypso #epic the vengeance saga

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gracemisconduct · 1 day ago

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This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie

#notes on grief #poetry #words #grief #lotr #bilbo baggins #bg3 #fanfic #coping #writing #tolkien #j r r tolkien #ao3 #dealing with grief #grieving #chimamanda ngozi adichie

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lvnchh · 2 days ago

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Burnt Edges

Abby Anderson x f!reader (with PTSD) 👉🏻original version 👈🏻 Wanted to make another version for my Abby girls so y'all can feel represented too 🫶🏻

I'm a minor and if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don't interact🙏🏻. It's my life, and I'm free to write whatever I want as long as I'm not bothering anyone. Also, please don't judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I'm sorry if the whole story isn't that good.

TW: I have PTSD (DIAGNOSED), and what you're about to read is based on my personal experiences. Writing about it is a form of therapy for me. If you are sensitive to topics like violence and domestic violence, please do not continue reading. Thank you🙏🏻

Btw I need more Abby x PTSD reader stories because I want to feel less alone and represented

story below the cut

The WLF base was bustling as usual, soldiers moving in every direction with purpose. It was organized chaos, but the rhythm of it kept your mind just busy enough to not wander too far. You had been here for weeks now, a stray who Abby had somehow decided was worth keeping around. She didn’t talk much about why—just said you seemed “useful” and left it at that.

But tonight, after the day’s drills and patrols, you needed air. The weight in your chest had been building all day, the familiar tightness creeping in. The base was too loud, too crowded, too much like the chaos you used to live in. You found yourself climbing to the roof, the one place no one ever seemed to go.

When the door creaked open behind you, you sighed. So much for solitude.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Abby said, her voice steady but not unkind.

You turned, finding her leaning casually against the doorway. Her braid hung over her shoulder, and her broad frame filled the space effortlessly. Abby was intimidating at first glance—hell, even second and third glance—but there was something about her that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“What gave me away?” you asked, forcing a weak smile as you lit your cigarette.

Abby stepped onto the roof and shrugged. “You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her bluntness was typical, but it wasn’t cruel. If anything, it was grounding. She moved to sit beside you, her heavy boots thudding against the concrete as she stretched her legs out.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the distant hum of the base fading into the background. Abby wasn’t much for small talk, and you appreciated that.

“You smoke a lot for someone who can barely keep up on a run,” she teased eventually, smirking as she glanced at you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, well… cardio’s overrated.”

“Not when you’re being chased by infected.”

“Fair point.”

Another silence settled, and you found yourself exhaling a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. You could feel Abby’s eyes on you, her curiosity barely masked. She wasn’t the kind to pry, but she wasn’t one to let something slide if she thought it mattered.

“You’ve been… off today,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter than usual.

You stiffened, gripping the cigarette between your fingers. “What do you mean?”

Abby shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “You didn’t even flinch when Manny cracked a joke at you earlier. Usually, you’d at least roll your eyes. Something’s eating at you.”

You hesitated, the weight in your chest growing heavier. Abby wasn’t wrong, but the idea of saying it out loud felt suffocating. Still, the look she gave you—patient, steady—made you feel like maybe you could.

“It’s… nothing,” you muttered at first, then winced at her unimpressed scoff. “Okay, fine. It’s not nothing. It’s just—this place. The noise, the shouting, the slamming doors. It reminds me of… home.”

Abby tilted her head, her brows knitting slightly. “Home?”

You took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke burning your throat. “My dad. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Yelling was the least of it.”

You didn’t elaborate, but Abby’s sharp eyes softened, her expression shifting from curiosity to something that looked like understanding.

“Shit,” she muttered, leaning forward. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, flicking the ash off your cigarette, “it’s not exactly something I put on my résumé.”

Abby huffed a laugh at that, but it was soft, almost careful. She leaned back again, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “That why you’re always so jumpy?”

You nodded, not bothering to deny it. “PTSD’s a hell of a ride.”

She was quiet for a moment, the tension between you settling into something heavier but not unwelcome. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said finally, her voice low. “But… I get the needing space part. I didn’t grow up with that kind of shit, but since… since everything with my dad and the Fireflies, sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe when things get too loud.”

Her admission caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her. For all her strength, Abby carried a weight too. It was different from yours, but it was still there, etched into the set of her jaw and the faint lines around her eyes.

“Well,” you said, smirking despite the heaviness in your chest, “guess we’re both a little screwed up.”

“Guess so,” Abby agreed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out against the concrete. Then, without thinking, you added, “What can I say? My PTSD made me hotter.”

Abby blinked, staring at you for a moment before bursting into a laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed into the night. It was rare to hear her laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling a little lighter just from the sound.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, leaning back on your hands with a smug smile.

Abby rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression betrayed her. “Don’t push your luck, rookie.”

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koshkamartell · 3 days ago

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Hello my loves.

This is it. The final chapter of No One But Me. I'm sorry it took so long to write; there was so much emotion and energy involved in this final part that it took longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you to my little group of faithful readers who have showed their support and love throughout this journey. I have appreciated all your comments and reblogs so much. It gives me alot of joy to hear that my story has been a source of joy and entertainment for someone.

I haven't added a warning list to this part in order to avoid spoilers. Please leave me your thoughts after you read.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt.

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale.

Was it Joel who fired the shot? He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess.

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands. But Joel is not there.

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin.

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead. "What happened? Oscar, what is it?"

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth. "I...I gotta lay down."

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?"

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot. You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is.

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound. When had he been shot?

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him.

Why don't you remember?

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here."

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes.

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus.

Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community.

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson. But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him.

You.

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window.

Estrada, the mother fucking prick. Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step. You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius.

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness. He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles.

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more.

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls. He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes.

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!"

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it.

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core.

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms. But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson."

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you. He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily.

"It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it."

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation.

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery. "Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..."

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild. Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside."

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us."

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him.

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed."

"No!" You argue. Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical.

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping.

Dogs barking.

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding.

"Joel!"

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by.

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look.

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips.

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form. "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar."

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him."

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help."

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly. "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?"

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you."

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering.

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected.

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright. You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you.

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!"

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too."

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow.

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead.

His skin feels so cold.

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him.

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest. "I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay."

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly.

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for.

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence.

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament.

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie? You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips.

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..."

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body.

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes.

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately. "Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence.

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes

Your grief reflects his own.

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life.

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen.

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you.

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!"

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster. Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks.

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him.

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken.

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!"

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point.

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you.

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---"

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close.

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs. "Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some."

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?"

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?"

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you."

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying.

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you."

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love."

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on.

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words.

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here."

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you."

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me."

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late."

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy."

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his.

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?"

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life.

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving.

I can't stop her.

She has to go.

She hates me.

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack.

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joelmiller #dddne #dark! joel miller x reader

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dailynnt · 5 hours ago

Text

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ Number of part: 16/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻From the author: Hello everyone. This part turned out to be so long, I hope you enjoy reading it. Please leave your feedback, it's so important for me to know 🥹🙏🏻 I don't know if I'll have time to write something else before the end of the year, but if anything, there will be a continuation in the new year for sure. Thank you all so much for loving my story 😭 Enjoy ❤️‍🔥💜💜

⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj , @lovelyyylunaa222 (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 16. Read my love.

A cup of tea cooling on the table is the only thing you can look at. You feel Jungkook's eyes on you all the time. You are nervous. Your palms are sweaty and cold. You hear your mom bombarding Jungkook with compliments and questions. She doesn't notice that you still haven't said anything to Jungkook other than a brief 'hello'.

Jungkook shyly answers all the questions. He's also happy to see omony Hyewon. But the main reason he's here is because of you, so he keeps looking at you. He sees how you avoid his gaze. He's looking at you when omonny Hyewon is distracted by a phone call from your father. She apologizes and moves away from the couch where you are sitting.

You feel even more tense. You look up. Jungkook is smiling at you and it's not an apologetic smile. It's his typical Jungkook smile, playful and provocative. You feel your cheeks flush red. Jungkook makes you feel uncomfortable. He have the confidence after all he's done to come to your house, sit and look at you with such a smile?

"How are you, baby?" - He finally breaks the silence between you. You bite your lip and lower your eyes, returning them to your cup of tea. Jungkook is attracted to this gesture and wants to touch his favorite lips.

"Fine." - You say and finally take a sip of tea to hide your embarrassment. It seems too obvious because your hands are shaking.

"I missed you." - Jungkook suddenly says. You can hear his hushed voice, filled with sadness and tenderness. His words penetrate your heart like a warm ray on a cold day. Your breathing becomes heavier, and your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest, almost painfully. The feeling is like hundreds of butterflies rising in your stomach.

Again, he was making you feel this way. You feel warm in your chest, but at the same time two parts of you are fighting: one part wants to push him away because it knows his world is too complicated and dangerous, and the other part wants to throw itself into his arms and stay there forever.

You lifted your eyes. You missed him too. You've missed him more than ever, but now it feels like he's off limits to you. It feels like you will never be able to be with him again. You don't know why, but instead of telling him that you missed him too, you ask him something else.

"Why did you come here?" - Your voice sounds cold. You fidget nervously on the couch. You don't want to be so cold, but you can't seem to do it any other way.

"I came to see you." - Jungkook answers as if it were obvious. "Also, it's okay to explain everything to you." - You hide your face behind your cup of tea again. You don't say anything because your mom approaches you. She smiles broadly, but when she sees that you are silent and you don't even look at Jungkook, she realizes that something is wrong.

"You're not talking much. It seems like you had a fight." - Your mom speculated.

"Yes, we did omony." - Jungkook admits. He's been calling your mom "omony" since he was a kid. She was his second mom because Jungkook spent a lot of time at your house. When you were kids, your mom was your babysitter. Jungkook's parents were busy at work, so Jungkook was with you every day until almost high school. In high school, he started coming only to visit. But he still has the habit of calling your mom "omony". "Y/N is offended by me." - You look at him. Why is he saying this to your mom?

"Daughter, what's wrong? Why are you mad at Jungkook?" - Mom asked with concern. You silently look at Jungkook with an annoyed look. He told you to come up with an answer. "I noticed right away that you didn't hug your best friend."

"It's because of my job. We celebrated Christmas together, you know. I had to leave Y/N on Christmas Eve." - Jungkook lies. Your eyebrows fly up. What a lie! The to mention the mafia and his kiss with ex, forgot?

"Honey, he probably couldn't do it any other way. Why are you so offended? But Jungkook-ah, boy, you should get more rest. Your mom recently complained to me that she rarely sees you. She must have been so happy that you came." - Your mom said. Jungkook smiled with a shadow of guilt.

"Actually, I haven't been home yet. I came straight to your place after arriving in Suwon." - You're shocked. He didn't even stop by his parents, whom he hadn't seen in almost a year? Was he that eager to see you?

"Son, the first thing you should’ve do is go to your parents. They are so missed." - Your mom gasps.

"I'll go right after I talk to Y/N. I still haven't give her a Christmas present yet." - Jungkook says in his defense. Your mom smiles slightly with curiosity.

"Then I think you two need to talk." - Your mom stands up and picks up the cups of tea. Jungkook smiles gratefully. "I want Eunok to see you as soon as possible. But wouldn't you like to stay for dinner? I'm did pickled crabs. It was your favorite dish I used to cook for you." - Your mother offers gently. You want to protest. Jungkook doesn't have to stay for dinner to eat your mom's pickled crabs. She can give him some to go. Jungkook answers before you do.

"Omony, really? You did pickled crabs? I'm so happy! I’m in time came to visit you." - Jungkook is overjoyed. "I am very happy to stay. I'm here for a few days, so my mom will have time to spend time with me." - Your mom is happy too. She is already excited to start cooking dinner.

"Mom, I promised you I would help you make dinner...." - You get up from the couch and walk towards your mom. She gently stops you.

"Honey, you need to talk to Jungkook. I'll start cooking by myself. When you're done, you can join me." - Your mom says and leaves you two alone.

You look after your mom, who has already gone to the kitchen. You hear Jungkook coming up behind you. He doesn't approaches to closer. You would like him to do this, but he respects your space.

"Can we go to your room? I don't think we can talk properly here." - Jungkook suggests. You think it's a good idea. Without answering, you walk towards the stairs.

"Mom, we'll be in my room." - You warn your mom and hear her shout "okay".

You enter the room first, leaving the door open for Jungkook to follow. Once inside, he closes the door behind him. He stands at the door looking at your room.

It hasn't changed and looks exactly the same as the last time he saw it. A small bed in the middle of the room. A bedside table next to it and your desk. The shelves around the desk are filled with sports books, comics, and sports awards. Several of them belong to Jungkook. He gave you cups, secretly dedicate these victories to you. Apart from his mom, you were his most ardent fan. To the right of the door is a wardrobe and large mirror in height. At window are delicate cream curtains. The room is cozy and you'd never say that a girl lived here.

There is a laptop on the bed, which you are already putting on the table. Jungkook walks over to your bed and sits down. You look at your friend carefully while remaining near table.

"Want to sit next to me?" - Jungkook asks, patting the bed next to him. He wants you to come closer.

"I'll stand. I've been lying on the bed all day." - You say calmly. Jungkook shakes his head and looks around your room in silence. You wait for him to speak. A light laugh leaves his lips.

"When we were at school, I used to come to this place so often. I feel like this is my room. The smell reminds me of those days." - Jungkook says. Your heart aches, that time was the best time of your life. Jungkook was there with all the time and was not involved in crime. Only sports, friendship, and precious memories. "Do you remember the time you hid me drunk from your parents? That morning I was running away through the window. Gosh, my mom gave me such a beating for not spending the night at home."

You remember that incident very well. Something happened between you that night that Jungkook doesn't remember because of the amount of alcohol he drank. It seems like that night you realized that you liked him.

𓏧𓏧𓏧Flashback𓏧𓏧𓏧

Jungkook got drunk at a party the night before his graduation. You remember when a classmate of his called you and asked you to take Jungkook out of the house drunk because he was almost unconscious. It was around 2 a.m. You were reading comics and so you were awake. You sneaked out of the house and followed Jungkook.

At first, the plan was to take him home. But Jungkook turned out to be having, he could barely stand on his feet, and your house was closer to yours, so you decided to take him to yours. You had to take him quietly to your room so that your parents wouldn't wake up, and then send him home in the morning.

You remember texting Doohoon, hoping that he would answer and come to the rescue to take Jungkook home, but he didn't answer. You knew they were supposed to be together. Did Doohoon leave early because he had something to do?

Jungkook clung tightly to your body. It was spring, but the night was cold. But your friend was wearing only a T-shirt, a warm sweatshirt with a zipper, and cargo pants.

His body heat kept you warm. But the longer you walked, you sweated as you struggled to pull your muscular friend. He was bigger and taller than you. Your hardened body tired quickly because Jungkook was relaxed and leaning on you.

His arm was around your neck. His palm was at a dangerous distance from your chest. You took his hand so that he wouldn't accidentally touch them. He leaned his head against the crook of your neck. His hot breath burned the skin of your neck. Jungkook smelled of alcohol and perfume.

It wasn't far to your home, but the distance seemed too long. You stopped to catch your breath. Just a couple of minutes to regain your strength and cover the last meters to your house. When you stopped, you felt Jungkook move his head, which was resting on your shoulder. He buried his head in your hair and touched your warm skin with his nose. You instantly got goosebumps.

"Baby, you smell so good." - Jungkook murmured into your neck. You froze. He had never been this close before. You panicked.

"Shut up, Jeon. I swear I'm going to kill you first thing in the morning." - You snapped, desperately ignoring the way Jungkook's nose was touching your neck. He suddenly deviated and stood in front of you, hugging you. He was holding onto your waist and so wobbling. You looked at your friend angrily with raised eyebrows.

Jungkook looked at you with drunken, half-open eyes that glittered. He looked at your face from the height of his height for a few seconds, and then awkwardly put his hand on your jaw. He grabbed you a little painfully, squeezing your hair. You clicked your tongue nervously.

"Damn it, what are you doing?" - You said, unhappy.

"What do they see in you?" - He suddenly says. You're confused, you don't understand what he's talking about. "Let's see: nice eyes, small face, and plump lips." - He says, describing your face. He touches your lips with his finger. Your heart is beating like crazy. You look at your friend and feel embarrassed. Jungkook looks up at your hair and examines it. "Your hair is an interesting color, maybe that's why they find you attractive?" - He asks no one in particular. You don't understand who he's talking about.

"Who are you talking about? And why did you decide that now is the time to discuss my appearance? Let's go home, it's hard for me to hold you!" - You protested, throwing his hands off your face. But the thought of someone liking you made you happy. His arms fell around your waist and with a quick movement, he pushed you against his body. A soft cry escaped your throat. Jungkook was so close that you forgot how to breathe. He was looking at your lips, and you were dizzy. You were screaming in your head, what was happening?

"Do you think they can take you away from me? I don't think so. You're my friend and they won't touch you with their fucking fingers." - You could smell the alcohol as Jungkook spoke almost to your lips. You listened dumbfounded to what he was saying. Something inexplicable clogged your chest. Emotions you had never felt before. A little excitement mixed with admiration. What is he saying? He has no right to speak so possessively. If someone likes you, he shouldn't get in the way.

"Jungkook, don't be silly!" - You say, trying to distance yourself from your friend. You shouldn't be standing in the middle of the road at 2 in the morning like that. Jungkook squeezed you tighter, not letting you move away at all. You expected him to be much stronger than you. You thought that if he didn't let go, you would be forced to hit him.

"Would you like to kiss me?" - Jungkook suddenly asks. He caught you off guard once again. Your eyes got big and you forgot to breathe again. You asked yourself if you really wanted to do this. You were afraid that, looking at your best friend now, you did want it. He was so handsome, even though he had been drinking. His lips were a magnet. But he's your friend! It's Jungkook! He's probably just messing with you. You recovered and covered his face with your hand, pulling him away.

"Jeon, I'm going to kick you in your bells. You're crazy! I would never want to kiss you. You're my friend. Oh no you're just an asshole I'm friends with." - You said rudely, holding his face with your hand. He laughed into your hand. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Why does this idiot have to come out on you like this?

Jungkook loosened his grip on your waist and you instantly pulled away from him.

"Gosh, I think I'm going to throw up." - Jungkook said in a tortured voice when you let go of him. You were scared. Jungkook swayed and went to the bushes and you heard him vomit. You almost threw up yourself. You waited for him to finish.

Jungkook straightened up and turned to you. He smiled and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. You grimaced. God, why did this happen with you?

Walking into the house with Jungkook, who was drunk wasted, was a challenge. He was unsteady on his feet and telling loud. You took him to your room and sat him down on the bed. You locked the door and turned to Jungkook. His eyes were almost closed. But he had a stupid smile on his face. You walked over to him in frustration and kicked him. He cried out.

"For what?" - He hissed, folding in half and rubbing his leg where you kicked him.

"For being a pain in the ass." - You said harshly. You had to do it because he had given you so much trouble.

"I haven't been in your ass yet." - Your friend says, and you gasp at the insinuation.

"Shut your dirty mouth, idiot!" - You growl. "Take off your shirt, I'm going to wash it." - Jungkook straightens up and slowly tries to take it off. But he fails. Losing patience, you come over and help him take off his shirt. You try not to look at Jungkook, who is just staring at you. After taking off his shirt, you throw it over your arm.

"Come with me to the bathroom. I'll give you a toothbrush and toothpaste, brush your teeth and wash your bad mouth. If I hear a single squeak from you, I'll drown you in the tub." - You threaten. Jungkook barely gets out of bed and laughs cheekily.

"Will you help me take a shower?" - He asks leaning on you again.

"Do you want to die?" - You are angry, but Jungkook just laughs.

You make your way to the bathroom as quietly as you can. You pushed Jungkook and close the door. You lead him to the sink and hand him a new toothbrush and toothpaste. While he brushes his teeth, you throw his sweatshirt into the washing machine and set it on the fast cycle. It should be washed in 15 minutes.

Jungkook brushed his teeth while trying to stand on his feet. When he was done, he took off his T-shirt. When you saw this, you gave a soft yelp of surprise. Jungkook smiled slyly.

"I'm going to take a shower." - He said loudly, as it seemed to you. At that moment, you heard footsteps in the hallway and your heart sank. You ran to Jungkook and put your hand over his mouth. You turned on the water and told him to be quiet. You stood there for who knows how long. You turned off the water to hear if the footsteps had stopped. There seemed to be silence. Suddenly there was a light knock on the door.

"Daughter, why are you in the bathroom at this hour?" - You heard your mother's voice through the door. Your blood ran cold in your veins. Holly shit, if she found out that Jungkook was standing there shirtless and drunk in your bathroom at almost 3 a.m., you would be in trouble. Jungkook didn't seem to care. He didn't react in any way.

"Oh, mom..." - You say loudly. "I was reading comics. I forgot to take a bath. I'll take a quick wash and go to bed." - You lied.

"Okay, but don't stay up so late anymore. You'll look like a ghost during the day." - Your mother complained. "Good night." - She said.

"Good night, mom." - You answered and heard her leave. After a while you heard her go into the bedroom. You let go of Jungkook and walked away from him.

"Hurry up." - You order him. Jungkook takes off his pants and you turn away. How did you even get into a situation like this? "Wait, what are you going to sleep in?" - You suddenly thought. He's not going to sleep on the floor in his boxers, is he? Should you give him your robe? Will he fit in it?

"I can sleep naked." - Jungkook says. You forget that he is naked and turn to him. His almost naked body makes you blush. Because even for the split second you saw his body, you noticed how beautiful it was. You turn away from him.

"You're not sleeping naked in my room, Jeon." - You were angry. "Come on, get cleaned up quickly. I'll get you daddy's clothes."

Jungkook couldn't wash quickly enough. You waited for him for what seemed like forever. You were nervous. Mom might come back again because you were here too long. Jungkook was washing behind the curtain and you were embarrassed that he was naked. You had to make an effort not to think about him like that.

Less than an hour later, you ended up in your room. Fortunately, no one caught you. You left the room again to find your father's clothes to dress Jungkook. His shirt was fortunately washed and you took it to your room to dry.

You gave Jungkook Daddy's shirt and shorts. They fit your friend almost perfectly. At 18 years old, he was the same size as your dad. When Jungkook got changed, he climbed on your bed and made himself comfortable while you found the perfect spot for him on the floor. When you saw him lying on your bed, you were outraged. You walked over to him and pushed your friend to the side.

"Hey, you're not sleeping here!" - You said. Jungkook looked at you in surprise, as if he had just noticed you were in the room.

"Do you really think I'm going to sleep on the floor? No way." - Jungkook said and turned away from you. You started to get mad. What kind of asshole is he? You brought him to your house, drunk, provided everything for his comfort, put your blankets on the floor, and he's so insolent!

"Listen, Jungkook, you're not going to sleep in my bed. You better get on the floor or I'll throw you off!" - You threatened. But in a moment you were on the bed. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and threw you over in one deft movement. You stared at your friend hovering over you in fright. He smiled slyly when he saw you frozen in terror.

"It's no problem if we sleep together on the bed." - Jungkook said still smiling.

"No. We won't!" - You protested.

"I'll sleep here. But if you don't want to sleep next to me, then go to the floor by yourself." - Jungkook said still hovering over you. You blushed. For the second time today, Jungkook was too close to you.

"This is my room and I decide who sleeps where." - You said without giving up. Your friend stared at you for a moment, and then you saw him start to approach. You closed your eyes, afraid of what might happen.

"Make me lie down somewhere else, baby." - Jungkook whispered in your ear. You felt his hot breath leave a mark on your ear. Your heart beat faster. Was this a glitch in the matrix or another reality? How did you end up in this situation with your friend? He always liked to tease you, but like this? What are you supposed to do? Lie still? Or throw him to the floor? You almost choke when he kisses you on the neck. You instantly feel everything inside you shrink. A pleasant sensation is felt in your lower abdomen. You're excited to the max.

"Jungkook!" - You call out, trying to push him away. You try not to think about how much you like it. Jungkook holds you close, leaving you with almost weightless kisses. You start to panic. You can't do this because Jungkook is drunk. You imagine when he wakes up in the morning and sees you next to him. He'll be upset that it's you and not some hottie. And it will also ruin your friendship. Jungkook almost reaches your lips and you put your hand out and he kisses your palm. When he realizes that it's not your lips, he looks at you dumbfounded.

"What are you doing?" - He asks.

"And what are you doing?" - You ask back. Your eyes are frightened.

"I'm trying to kiss you." - Jungkook replies. Your lips are still covered by your hand.

"I'm trying to stop you from kissing me." - You replies too. Jungkook raises his eyebrows.

"Are you serious?" - He asks you in disbelief that you're refusing. "Every girl in town wants to kiss me. Don't you want to?" - You can hear the sincere surprise in his voice.

"Come down to earth, Jeon. Not all the girls want to kiss you." - You say irritated. "First of all, I'm not all of them, and I'm your friend, you dumbass. And secondly, you're drunk, how are you going to look me in the eye in the morning?" - Jungkook touches the inside of his cheek with his tongue and finally lets go of you. He falls onto your pillow and closes his eyes. You think you'd better get out of bed.

You run away and lie down on the blanket you made for Jungkook. You will have to sleep on the floor. You lay down straight and froze as if in anticipation. Did Jungkook really want to kiss you? Oh my God, he kissed your neck. You couldn't believe that this had happened between you.

You laid on the floor, not moving, listening to his breathing and your heartbeat. You lay there for a while and heard Jungkook snoring.

In the morning you were woken up by a knock on the door. You woke up too suddenly.

"Wake up, daughter!" - You heard your father's voice. At that moment you thought you were going to die. The doorknob was coming down. Dad was trying to get into the room. Did didn’t remember if you to close the door yesterday when you came with your father's things for Jungkook? You jumped up from the floor, taking blanket and ran to the bed. It was just a matter of seconds. You throw the blanket you were sleeping on at Jungkook and fly under the covers, almost falling on top of your friend. He wakes up but can't understand what's happening. You cover him with two blankets. The door opens and your dad looks through the door. Shit, you didn't close the door.

"Flower, are you waking up? It's almost 12 o'clock. Mommy is worried you missed breakfast." - Your father says gently. And you just think that if Jungkook moves, or your father comes into the room and walks over to your bed, you're dead.

"Oh yeah, daddy. Just give me 15 minutes to get cleaned up." - You say, pretending to be asleep. You feel Jungkook under the covers, leaning his head against your side. God, he better not move or you'll kill that asshole if your father catches you both.

"Okay." - Your dad says, and wants to leave. But after a moment, he turns his head back. "Were you cold to sleep?" - He asks looking at the two blankets on your bed. They look bulky and this provides the perfect opportunity to hide Jungkook under them.

"Yes." - You say quickly. "It's so cold tonight I decided to sleep under two blankets." - You lie. You hear Jungkook laughing in your direction. You can already imagine yourself strangling him.

"But the temperature was above freezing this night." - Your father says. That's right, it's May. You freeze.

"But you know me, Daddy ! I'm always cold." - You make up an excuse on the fly and mentally beg your father to leave.

"You are?" - He asks. You are nervous again.

"Yes, dad! I'll be there in 15 minutes, give me time to get ready for lunch." - You say, a little irritated. Your dad apologizes and walks away. You immediately run to the door and lock it. You lean your head against the door and breathe a sigh of relief.

Jungkook crawled out from under the covers. His hair stuck out in all directions. His eyes and lips were slightly puffy. He smiled at you cheerfully. You stared at your friend in awe. He looked so attractive in the morning and his appearance made you forget how angry you were with him.

"I thought I was done for." - He said with a laugh. "If your father found me in your bed, I'd be dead, wouldn't I?" - You step away from the door and grab the pillow you were sleeping on. It flies at Jungkook. He covers himself with his hands.

"Jeon, get out of my room! Otherwise, I will be your death!" - You screamed, but quietly so your parents wouldn't hear you. You were so angry, he had caused you so much trouble.

He crawled out of bed to get away from you.

"How can I go? Your parents are downstairs." - Jungkook complained.

"I don't care. Teleport out. Climb out the window. Anything, but get out now." - You shouted finally, throwing a pillow at him. Jungkook skillfully caught it. You sat down on the bed and breathed heavily. God, you were so stressed. Jungkook carefully walked over to the bed and put the pillow down. You glared at him angrily, and he flinched, afraid of your gaze.

"I need to change my clothes." - He said carefully. You got up and went to get his things. They flew at Jungkook just like your pillow. He grabbed them and smiled.

You went to the closet and pulled out your terrycloth robe. Wrapping yourself in it, you watched Jungkook get dressed. You didn't admire his perfect body, just pierced him with an angry look. He did it quickly. Jungkook tried to style his hair, which was sticking out in different directions.

"How did I end up here?" - He suddenly asks. Your eyebrows fly up. Does he not remember anything?

"What do you mean?" - You snap back. "I brought you here because you were drunk. Don't you remember?"

"No. My head is so pounding." - Jungkook scrunches his face in pain, putting his hand to his head. "The last thing I remember is losing a bet and drinking a glass soju and after followed by a glass of beer." - You stared at Jungkook. What a rare douchebag!

"I knew you were out of your mind, but by how much..." - You complain. Jungkook is indignant.

"Oh, come on. It was a party. Everyone drinks there, you know..." - He says as if it's a good argument. You shake your head in disapproval, and walk over to him, pushing him toward the window to get out. Jungkook doesn't resist. It's a good thing he's climbed through your window many times and knows how to get down safely. He freezes at the window. You let him go.

"Baby. I at least not hit on you?" - Your friend is worried. You can see the anxiety in his eyes.

"What if you did, what will you do?" - You ask with excitement. You wonder how he'll get out of it, because he did hit on you. The memory of his lips on your neck makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"What do you mean? I couldn't be!" - Jungkook immediately denies. You raise your eyebrows. Of course he could! He did exactly that this night.

"Why couldn't you? Am I so ugly that you don't find me attractive even when you drunk?" - You say. Jungkook laughs, your sarcasm is his favorite thing.

"Yeah and you're not my type." - Jungkook replies, his voice serious. "I would never hit on you. Especially since you're my best friend. It's like picking on your sister." - You froze at his words. You're not his type? Of course I'm not. But what about that he say about your appearance? What a bustard!

"You're an idiot! You told me this night that I was beautiful and that many people liked me!" - You shouted nervously. But you kept silent about the fact that he said he wouldn't give you to anyone.

"Did I say that?" - Jungkook is genuinely surprised. "I guess I drank too much last night." - For these words, his side immediately suffers from your fist. Jungkook laughs and shuts his eyes.

"Get out of my sight, you jerk, and I don't want to see you for a week." - You say, shoving Jungkook out the window.

"How can you live without me for a week, baby? I'm your air breathe." - Jungkook teases you. You are almost trembling with anger.

"God knows I wanted to keep you alive, but your tongue is your enemy!" - You threaten and run to get the dumbbell that was lying in your room. When you get back to the window, Jungkook has already reached the ground and is running away with a cheerful smile. He waves goodbye, and you give him the middle finger.

You lie down on the bed face down and smell the subtle scent of Jungkook's perfume. You feel a tremor inside. What happened between you tonight has made you look at Jungkook differently. Now the mere sight of him makes you feel admiring and elated. What did he do with you?

𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧

This memory will remain in your mind forever. Because it was after that night that everything between you changed. Could you have imagined then that you would have sex with Jungkook? And that it would give you immense pleasure? Could you have imagined that you could feel some crashing or even fall in love with him and you wouldn't know what to do with it?

Jungkook smiles a sweet smile, probably remembering the morning you beat him. But you are hurt by the sight of him. Because he's not the Jungkook you knew anymore.

"You wanted to talk." - You remind your friend why you're in your room, and it's not because of happy memories from your youth.

"Yes." - Jungkook confirms and his cheerful, beautiful smile is gone. He runs his eyes over your face and finally says. "She did it on purpose. I didn't want to kiss her." - You look at Jungkook and hear your pulse pounding in your ears. So he decide to start with this?

"You didn't mean to, but you kissed." - You say.

"I didn't kiss her back. That hooker did it at Dohoon's request." - Jungkook says seriously.

"Meaning?" - You don't understand.

"That moron brought her to Japan specifically to distract me from you while he told you what I've become. He found out that we went to Japan to get the devices he stole, so he followed us. He's a fucking bone in my throat." - You realize that the trip to Japan was a cover for a job. You suspected it right away.

You ask Jungkook what the devices are, and he tells you.

Jungkook was supposed to guard the transportation of expensive medicines devices. Hoseok entrusted him with this job because he was so busy. But Doohoon, who had recently arrived in Korea, decided to remembering to Jungkook about himself.

He forged documents and substituted spoiled devices. Because of this, his company had problems with the customer. Jungkook said that he tried to resolve the issue so that Namjoon would not find out about the lost deal. Jungkook even mentioned the amount of the deal, which left you speechless. He said that Doohoon went straight to the hard methods. If Namjoon found out about the devices, your friend would be charged with another $50 million debt.

Jungkook also told how he got working on Namjoon. That the super fight was invented by Doohoon and offered Namjoon to make a lot of money on Jungkook. He say that he fought so often because they paid a lot of money for him, and that Doohoon only made a couple of appearances to make it look like he were fighting too.

In fact, Dohun lost a lot of money in casinos and betting in Namjoon’s club. A lot of money. And to pay off his debt, he brought Jungkook to Namjoon to make a lot of money. And everything was working until that idiot invited their classmate (who turned out to be the son of a policeman who hunted on Namjoon) to join them and fight in illegal fights. The policeman's son got all the important information. He even came with them to the club before the "super fight". That's how the police showed up that night.

Namjoon lost a lot of money and made Jungkook look bad. Doohoon did his best to make it happen. To save his own ass, he put the blame on Jungkook, saying that he told their classmate, even though he knew that he was the son of a policeman.

Jungkook said that he tried to escape from Namjoon three times. But the last time he was caught, Jungkook was severely beaten. They threatened that they would kill his parents and brother, and then finally kill him. He was told that either he brings all the money and is free (it was obvious that this option would not work, because Jungkook did not have that kind of money), or he works for Namjoon. He fulfills all his orders, working off his debt, and then he is free. Otherwise, if he doesn't agree to any of these conditions, his family and himself will suffer.

You listened to all this and just couldn't believe it. Doohoon is such a dickhead. Why did he do this to Jungkook? The three of you had such a great friendship. There had to be some reason for Doohoon to hate Jungkook so much, and it definitely wasn't simple envy. It had to be something significant, something that made your former friend go crazy.

Jungkook must have known the reason for this hatred. It was you. Right from the start. Because Doohoon had liked you since you started hanging out together, and Jungkook was greedy for you. Doohoon told Jungkook that he liked you, and then something clicked in Jungkook. He didn't want the two of you to start dating, which is probably why Jungkook started spending a lot of time with you then. He really hardly ever left you and Doohoon alone. Later on, when his classmate and the guys at the sports school started paying attention to you, Jungkook became jealous. But how could he confess to you? You were friends and you never fell for Jungkook's flirtations.

Later, when Doohoon started to show you a lot of attention, Jungkook got drunk and told his friend that he wanted to fuck you. He didn't say it on purpose, but he was just releasing his true desires under the influence of alcohol. That's when everything started to fall apart.

You started to cry, you imagined what Jungkook had to go through. And you were sure that these stories were the tip of the iceberg.

It hurt Jungkook to see you crying. He came to you and hugged you. You felt awe when his scent hit your nose. You leaned your cheek against his chest and cried hard. You realized that you had missed his closeness so much. Only in that embrace did you feel alive. Back at the hotel, when you saw him covered in blood, you were scared and afraid. But now, being in Jungkook's arms, you mentally scolded yourself. How could you think that he could hurt you?

You hugged him tightly, clutching his sweatshirt in your fists. Jungkook buried his head in your shoulder. He can finally touch you. To be close to you. When he arrived today and saw you looking at him standing by the stairs. He realized that he would never let you go again.

Jungkook picked you up and carried you to the bed. He sat down, putting you on his lap, listening patiently as you cried. When you had cried out all the regret that had accumulated inside you, you finally stopped crying.

"Are you okay, baby?" - Jungkook whispered. He was so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheek. He touched your cheek lightly with his lips.

"I’m terrible." - You admitted. Jungkook hummed.

"That's why I didn't tell you anything." - He complained softly. "I knew you'd cry. But I promised you I would only tell you the truth..." - He says, and your eyes fill with hot tears again. That's how he promised to tell the truth in day before the Christmas party. Jungkook wipes your tears away with his thumb as he looks at you. His heart is breaking, he doesn't want you to cry for him.

"Jungkook, you didn't kill anyone, did you?" - You suddenly ask, calming down a bit. This question was probably the one that worried you the most.

You met Jungkook's big eyes, which were darting between yours. It scared you that he hadn't said anything for so long. Could he have done something like that?

"No." - He finally said. You were relieved. "I didn't kill people. But the methods I use are not the most humane." - Jungkook admitted.

"What are your duties?" - You ask, even though you already know. Your Sunbaenim helped you find out. Jungkook hesitates. He doesn't think you should know.

"Baby, I don't want to tell you this. These are dangerous things. It's better if you don't know." - Your friend says. You sit on his lap and feel the warmth of his body. You feel so good around Jungkook. Maybe he's right. Besides you know something. Eliminating unnecessary people isn't necessarily murder, is it? You want to ask, but you can't expose yourself.

"Okay." - You agree quietly. "But what about everyone else? All your friends you introduced me to, they all work for Namjoon?"

"Yes. We all work for him." - Jungkook confirms.

"Do you trust them?" - You ask. Jungkook tries to understand what your question means.

"Yes, I trust them. Why do you ask?"

"They all know me. It scares me a little bit." - Jungkook stares at you.

"You don't have to be afraid of them, baby. I know these guys very well. They won't lay a finger on you because they know they're will dealing with me." - He sounded serious. You smiled. Everyone was afraid to deal with Jungkook since high school. But now it's a whole another level.

"What about Namjoon?" - You ask. Jungkook fixes the hair that's falling over your face.

"You are completely my responsibility. And if Namjoon tries to do anything to you, he'll have to deal with me, too." - You smile in pain. He is so confident. What you'd expect from Jungkook. You stare at each other and Jungkook breaks first.

He gently takes your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. When your lips touch, you are cold. His lips are so desirable. You return the kiss with insistence. Jungkook plunges his tongue into your mouth. You intertwine your tongue with his and deepen the kiss. Jungkook strokes your back as if to calm you down. He kisses you as if to say: "Here I am, and I won't leave you anymore."

Your eager kiss is interrupted by a knock on the door. You quickly jump off Jungkook's lap and run back to the window. Your mom appears in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, daughter..." - Your mom apologizes. She sees that you are distracted. But you need to turn to your mother to know the reason for her coming. When you return, your mother sees your teary eyes, but she skillfully hides her embarrassment.

"It's okay, mom, we're done now. I'll help you with dinner..." - You are about to leave. Jungkook gets up to go with you, but your mom stops you both.

"I don't need any help. I have everything almost ready. I put the yukkejang on to cook, because it will be perfect for tonight's frosty evening. But I just got a call from Ajuma Jihee, asking me to help her finish the soybean paste. I gave her the recipe and I think she did something wrong." - Says your mom. "I'm just going to go out for 40 minutes, and when I come back, the yukkejang will be ready. Daughter, just stir it from time to time so that it cooks well. Dad will be back soon, so don't be sad." - Your mom left, closing the door.

You looked at Jungkook, who was standing behind you. You smiled weakly, you almost got caught. You're about to go downstairs to watch the soup when Jungkook grabs your arm. He pulls you toward him, his arms around your waist. You stare at your friend in awe.

"Forty whole minutes..." - He says, leaning down and capturing your lips. You mumble, resisting just a little, but otherwise giving in to his skillful lips. You move your lips against his and get a little nervous. What if mom comes in again? But when Jungkook kisses you and leads you to the bed, you realize what he meant earlier. You protest again by mooing into Jungkook's mouth. He stops when your feet hit the bed.

"Kook, we can't have sex in my room. Mom hasn't left yet, and Dad should be home soon..." - You warn him. In a moment, you find yourself on your back, pressed against the mattress by your friend. He smiles slyly and doesn't seem to care that your mom is somewhere nearby. You feel your heart beating against your chest. It's like an electric charge is running through your body. You forget about caution when Jungkook starts kissing you. He grabs your jaw with his hand, squeezing it a little harder, and shoves his tongue deep into your mouth. He kisses you so passionately that the heat rushes through you like lightning.

Your brain is working at high speed, and your body is freezing in anticipation. It's both impatience and sweet intrigue at the same time.

"Shall we finish what we started in this room?" - Jungkook asks as he pulls away from your lips, his hand already hidden under your sweater. He slides his hand under your bra and squeezes your breast. You hold back a moan, biting your lip.

"What do you mean?" - Instead of answering, you ask your own question, breathing heavily.

"What we started the night before my graduation." - Jungkook answers. You round your eyes in shock. Is he talking about the night he almost kissed you for the first time?

"You didn't remember anything the next morning!" - You remind him indignantly. Jungkook smiles seductively. He lifts up your orange warm sweatshirt, lowers your bra, and kisses your nipple. You feel Jungkook's wet tongue on your nipple and it makes you wet your underwear already. He grabbed your breast with his hand, squeezing it with a little force and sucking on the burgundy bud. He plays with the most sensitive part with his tongue and it makes you want to more.

"It's time to confess to you." - Jungkook says when he stops kissing your breasts. Your breathing is labored because of your excitement. You feel Jungkook pressing his half-erect cock against your pussy. It's not hard enough yet. But it won't be for long. "I was going to fuck you then." - He says with a sly smile on his lips, and you just can't believe it.

"What?" - You ask again. He couldn't want to fuck you when you were 17 years old.

"Yeah, baby, we could have been together a long time ago. But I still win, your virginity is mine." - He says and takes off your sweater. He also frees you from your bra with his skillful hands.

"Really? You've been dreaming of fucking me for so long?" - You ask with irony. Although you are just shocked that your friend has been trying to get you into bed for so long.

"Absolutely. But you were so scared at the time, you didn't even let me kiss you. I am one hundred percent sure that if you had let me kiss you, you would have become a woman that night." - Jungkook assures you. He kisses you eagerly, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You answer him with the same greed, as if you were living only for this moment. This kiss ignited a fire between you, your mutual need for each other was too obvious.

Your body silently begged for more, and more, and more as he moved from your lips to your neck. He kissed millimeter by millimeter, as if he were trying to cover every part of your tender skin. You moaned softly, which fueled Jungkook's arousal. He rubbed his cock against you, which became harder with each movement. He wants to fuck you, so you should hurry up while you're the only two at home.

Jungkook pulls himself off your neck and hangs over you. Your faces are separated by a quality of centimeters. You open your eyes and see Jungkook's seductive smile. Your cheeks burn from your closeness.

"Do you want me to fuck you now, or shall we have dinner and I'll take you to the park and fuck you in the car?" - Jungkook gives you a choice. The fact that he's going to fuck you tonight is not even up for discussion. You can only choose the place.

You feel his cock presses into your pussy. Your underwear is soaked with moisture. And you like the position you're in. You can wait for the evening. It's risky to have sex in your room, knowing that your parents could come back at any time. But somehow this makes you even more needy.

"Can you wait after dinner time?" - You ask Jungkook to get his opinion. You don't want him to think that you want him that badly. So you ask him if he can wait.

"Fuck, no. I want to fuck you right now." - You smile at the note of intolerance in his voice.

"Then we better hurry, darling." - You say, agreeing.

"I don't want to hurry. I want to enjoy you." - Jungkook confesses.

"But we really don't have much time." - You say with desperation. Jungkook smiles at you and gets out of bed. You notice his hard cock resting against his fly. You lift up on your elbows to follow his actions and see Jungkook walk to the door and lock it. On his way to you, he takes off his clothes, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

He comes to the bed and you admire his perfect body. His pumped-up chest and biceps move in time with his hands undoing the waistband of his pants. He looks too sexy. He looks at you with a lustful gaze. Jungkook takes off his pants while studying your face, his eyes moving down to your bare tits and finally settling on your crotch.

Jungkook doesn't like that you're still wearing your pants. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed with a sharp movement. A scream sticks in your throat. Jungkook slowly pulls off your pants. Only your underwear remains. After a moment, Jungkook grabs the edge of the cotton fabric and pulls it down. There is something so intimate about this action. That moment when he undresses you makes you feel adoration for him. You love it when he takes off your clothes with his own hands. You like it when he is in complete control of you. You want to worship him like a king who owns the whole world.

Jungkook sees your naked body and goes a little crazy. He doesn't understand why every time you have sex, his desire to have you grows stronger, and now he almost on the verge of obsession.

Jungkook spreads your legs and sighs in anticipation. He's finally going to taste your sweet pussy. And then he's going to fuck it so well that you'll remember it for a long time.

He gets down on his knees and places his face right in front of your wet cunt. He can hear you breathing heavily. Jungkook takes your ass with his hands to have the best angle. He kisses your inner thigh and you just tremble. His lips are beautiful on any part of your body. He kisses your thighs slowly, even though your wet cunt, which is in his field of vision, is terribly attractive to him.

You clutch the blanket in your hands. The pain in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable, and you desperately need Jungkook's touch. Jungkook kisses your other thigh, moving closer to your most desired spot.

When his tongue finally touches your clit, an uncontrollable moan escapes your lips. Jungkook licks your clit three times with his tongue, pressing it pleasantly. Your legs tremble with pleasure.

"It's sweet." - He says directly into your cunt, and then bursts in with his lips. His tongue sucks on your clit and you just go crazy with pleasure. You moan loudly, trying to ease the sweet torture of Jungkook's tongue. Your back arches to relieve your condition. When he pushes his tongue into your passage, you go crazy. He pushes it in and out, and his finger caresses your clit. You can feel your orgasm coming.

"Kook..." - You whisper to warn him, but he doesn't let go. He fucks your hole with his tongue, while simultaneously tormenting you with his fingers. After a moment, he sticks his tongue out and presses his lips to your clit. He kisses you gently a few times and then sucks you as hard as he can. The blanket is clenched in your fists so tightly that your fingers go numb. A moment later, you come on Jungkook's tongue. A pleasant pleasure spreads through your body.

Jungkook pulls away from your cunt, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. Jungkook smiles. He gets to his feet. He can't get enough of your excited face.

You open your eyes and stare at Jungkook in awe. He really a king, or no, he is a Greek god created to give pleasure. Your lips stretch into a blissful smile.

"I don't think I can ever get enough of this sweet pussy." - Jungkook says as he takes off his boxers. His cock is excited. It jumps up, bumping against his thighs as your friend frees him from the captivity of his underwear. Semen drips from the tip, and you think you want to taste it and feel its salty flavor.

Jungkook holds out his hands to you, and you place your palm in his. He asks you to get out of bed. You get to your feet and they tremble slightly. The sensations from your orgasm are still present between your legs.

Your best friend, or should say lover, sits on the edge of the bed. He invites you to sit on top and ride his cock. You don't hesitate for a second to get on top.

When your bodies touch, you feel how hot Jungkook is. You sit on his lap, holding onto his back. He gently supports you by the waist. He puts two fingers in your passage to stretch you. You close your eyes against the pleasant sensation of his fingers in your middle, and you hear him smile. You seem to get even wetter as you wait for the grand prize.

"My good girl. So wet for me. That tight pussy will swallow my cock perfectly." - You moan and smile at Jungkook's praise. You open your eyes and see your friend's handsome face. His eyes shine with a devilish light, and his seductive smile makes you more excited than ever, even though there's no to where. He licks your lips, plunging his long, knotted fingers deep into you. "Come on, baby, have a good ride." - Jungkook urges you to sit on his cock.

You rise up on your knees, leaning on the bed and Jungkook puts the head of his cock against your entrance. You lower yourself carefully. He holds your ass, squeezing your meat. When you're completely down on Jungkook's cock, you both let out a moan of pleasure.

Your gaze falls to Jungkook's lips and you just drink in them greedily. You kiss Jungkook with your tongue. He laughs into your lips. He is delighted that you are kissing him so passionately. You've finally shown him how much you need him.

You start to move on his lap. Jungkook fills you to the brim with his cock. He hits you deeply every time you jump on top to create the right friction. Jungkook is fucking you so perfectly. You moan. Your breasts bounce in time with your movements. Why does it feel so good? Why so passionate? You close your eyes and surrender completely to your needs.

"Fuck!" - Jungkook swears. "Your pussy is the tightest in the world. I just want to fuck it forever." - You scratch the skin on Jungkook's shoulders. You want to be fucked only by Jungkook, too. He squeezes your buttocks to help you move. The sound of your bodies slamming into each other fills the space around you. Your head spins around.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you. He thinks you're so small in his arms. He drives his cock into you sharply and deeply, enjoying the friction of your sensitive parts.

Suddenly he stands up, supporting your body with his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist. You try to figure out what he wants to do. Jungkook carries you to the wall. He leans you against it, and you can see your reflection in the mirror. You see his bare buttocks and your legs wrapped around his waist. He is fucking you, thrusting your swollen pussy.

You look at yourself in the mirror and can't get enough of the sight. You dip your nails into his hair and pull lightly. Jungkook pushes you down to the ground and gets out of you. His cock is glistening with your wetness. He kisses you, grabbing your cheeks again with one hand. His tongue is deep in your mouth. Your lips are swollen from the constant kissing.

"This mirror." - Jungkook says in a low voice that penetrates every cell in your body. "Every time I looked at it, I imagined myself fucking you in front of it." - You are shocked. Your friend is so depraved in his thoughts. Why would he want to fuck you in front of a mirror? "I finally have the opportunity." - Jungkook smiles.

He moves closer to your neck. His lips kiss your skin, giving you goosebumps. You feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. His kiss on your neck excites you to the limit.

"Jungkook..." - You call out to him. You want him to shove his cock back inside you and give you a good fuck. The thought of him doing it in front of the mirror is exciting.

"Yes, baby." - He responds to the call of his name.

"Take me." - You ask. You want Jungkook too much. You need him too much. Jungkook holds you close. You feel his strong body. His chest is pressed firmly against yours. His big hand squeezes your asshole, digging his nails into the skin. His erect cock is pressing against your pubes. It's so sexy between you.

Jungkook leads you to the mirror. He settles down behind you. Jungkook's cock presses against your ass. He kisses your neck and squeezes your breasts with his hands, massaging them. You moan. It feels good. You want more. You close your eyes and Jungkook looks at you in the mirror.

"Open your eyes and look straight ahead." - He orders you somewhat imperiously, while pushing your folds apart. His gentle, unhurried finger movements on your clit ignite your entire insides. You think today he is caressing you such many times, more than usual.

You listen to his orders. You look at yourself naked in the mirror and your excitement grows exponentially. "Now you can see what you look like when I fuck you. This is your best look." - He whispers in your ear.

He plunges his fingers into your passage, smears moisture over your folds. You breathe heavily. Light moans leave your mouth. Jungkook bends you over, and you grab the frame of the mirror that shows you in full view. Jungkook puts his cock against your hole. You feel Jungkook plunging into your passage. As he fills you with his thick cock, you cheer.

Jungkook looks at you through the mirror. Your face looks pained. Your eyebrows are drawn together, your mouth is slightly open and your eyes are closed. You must see what you look like when he gives you divine pleasure.

"I told you to open your eyes." - Jungkook leans down. His body presses against your back. He puts his hand on your throat and lifts you up. He bites your ear and growls. "Don't make me punish you." - You struggle to remember how to breathe. If it weren't for the fluid stroke of his cock, you wouldn't even do it.

Jungkook bends you back, releasing your throat. Now he can get better access to your cunt. He starts to move while fucking you. He holds your hips with his hands to better control the thrusts. Your moans and the sounds of your bodies intertwine in a perfect symphony.

You look at yourself in the mirror and see that you are not yourself. But your appearance in it makes you look depraved. You meet Jungkook's gaze in the mirror. Absolutely dark, focused only on you.

He slows down, driving his cock lazily and deeply into you. You want more friction.

"Kook... faster..." - You ask.

"Faster?" - Jungkook asks you again, continuing to thrust his cock ruthlessly into your vagina.

"Yes..." - You exhale.

"Do you want me to fuck you fast like a whore?" - He asks. You moan blissfully. You want to.

"Yes. Fuck me like a whore." - You ask. Jungkook stops and you hear his heavy breathing. He doesn't mind at all. But for some reason today, Jungkook doesn't want to rush. He wants to enjoy every moment with you.

But he knows that time is short. That’s why he'll try some other time. When you're in your apartment together and he makes you scream all night.

Jungkook picks up the pace. His cock works wonders. Sex with Jungkook is like a short-term nirvana. You moan from his fast hip movements. He pushes his cock into you to the maximum and freezes. Your orgasm is coming.

You look at yourself in the mirror and think that the picture can't get any better. It's like you're watching a fucking porno with Jungkook and yourself in the lead role. He's fucking your hole. One hand caresses your clit. Fuck, it feels so good.

"I'll... I'll come over, Kook." - You say between thrusts.

"No, baby. I'm not done with you." - Jungkook doesn't let you. He pulls out of you almost at the exact moment you're about to cum. You breathe heavily leaning against the mirror. You can feel your cunt burning. You are disappointed because you could have already felt the most desirable sensation, and Jungkook didn't finish the job.

Before you can properly recover, Jungkook wraps his big arm around your waist and leads you back to the bed. You look at his tattoos with a blurry gaze. He lays you down gently on the bed and climbs on top of you, but he doesn't go inside you right away. You breathe heavily in sync.

He looks at your face and can't get enough of it. During sex, you are the most beautiful person in the world. You drive him crazy. You excite his every cell. Jungkook kisses you, gently, almost lovingly. He pulls away when he has enjoyed your lips enough. He lifts up and turns you over onto your stomach. His hands are on your hips and he lifts your ass to enter you.

You are wet. Despite the fact that he ate you, you release so much moisture that your tight cunt swallows his cock with ease. He plunges into your passage and moans. You know you'll never get enough of this. You grab the sheet with your hand. Jungkook pounds you with his cock, finding your G-spot almost instantly. You can't hold back the screams that come out of your throat. Your mind is so blinded by the lust and pleasure of your friend's thick cock that you forget where you are. But you're home, in your room, and your parents should be home soon. You don’t care, you scream because it feels so damn good.

"Come on, baby, now come on my cock." - Jungkook orders you, feeling your walls begin to clench around his cock. His strokes are fast, deep, and almost ruthless. Your orgasm comes just as he asks you to. You lean your head against the mattress, feeling euphoric, high, ecstatic. Why the fuck is sex with Jungkook so good?

Jungkook is chasing his own orgasm. In just a few quick thrusts, he fills you with his hot cum. You feel Jungkook's cock twitching inside you, filling your passage to the brim.

He slowly stops moving. He stops when his cock softens. Jungkook pulls out of you and falls to the spot next to you. You both breathe as if you've been running a long marathon.

You feel a little cum spilling out of your passage. Your sheets are soiled and you'll have to change them.

Jungkook crawls over to you, kisses your lips, and when he pulls away, he smiles cheerfully.

"Did you like it?" - He asks you. "Because I loved it." - Jungkook confesses.

"It was fucking good." - You admit the same thing. Sex with Jungkook is exactly the kind of thing that gives you maximum physical pleasure. Jungkook pecking on your lips. "You came in me again." - You complain gently.

"I have emergency contraception in the car." - Jungkook reassures you. You smile ironically, raising your eyebrows.

"You knew what you were doing." - You say, hinting that he was going to come inside you from the beginning. Jungkook strokes your face with his hand.

"It's crazy, but I want my cum to fill you every time I fuck you. It's like I'm signing you by myself." - He emphasizes the last word and you feel excited. If you're his, he cannot to kiss his ex anymore.

"If you think I'm yours, then you're mine." - You say, lowering your voice. You sound so serious that Jungkook is surprised. He has never heard you sound so powerful. "If I ever see your ex again, or see you flirting with other people, you'll know what the fire inside me really is." - Jungkook laughs out loud and can't wait to kiss you.

"Your jealousy makes me hot." - Jungkook says as he pulls away from your lips.

"I find my jealousy annoying, so you better not test my nerves." - You say. "Let me go, I have to take a quick shower. I think the yukkejang is burnt. My mom will kill me." - You complain. Before you leave the room, you turn to Jungkook, who is lying completely naked on your bed, looking at you. "Move your ass, Jeon, and get me a pill, or you'll be a father in nine months." - You finally get out. Jungkook lies there like a stone. Your words about fatherhood seem to have hit him over the head.

For a moment, he imagined how beautiful you would be pregnant, carrying his child under your heart. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away. He can't think about that. Because you are already his Achilles' heel.

He is strictly forbidden to think about a normal life, a family, or a child while he is working for Namjoon. Jungkook doesn't know if he'll ever be able to plan for that. Being in a relationship with you is already a lot of pressure for him, because he is responsible for your life, which could be in danger at any moment.

He really fell in love with you because you are all he can think about lately. He can't admit it to you because he doesn't want you to get attached to him, but he wants you to be able to see his love. It has been present in his actions, in his behavior for a long time.

Jungkook tries to be reserved, but his heart betrays him in every little thing. His love is his silent presence, his desire to make your day better, even when he's fighting his own demons.

“Read my love." - He repeats in his mind every time he touches you with his eyes. He can't say it out loud, but he’ll show you. Again and again, until you realize that you are his only reason to breathe.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au

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zepskies · 21 hours ago

Text

Ahaha I had a feeling all Dean girls would connect with that part. 😘

She had to get caught, right? For the ✨drama.✨ 😝 And of course Dean didn't take it well. He's over here trying to make sure she doesn't find about more about him, and more specifically about the supernatural, and she's over here uncovering ALL the secrets (not just invading his privacy). 😅

Yes I had to make sure you guys knew I didn't actually write those excerpts, but thank you so much for saying they were woven in well into the fabric of the story. I really appreciate that! 🥹🥹 Honestly I thinks it's amazing that you teared up a bit at that part! A lot of that is just the weight of John's words. Kudos to whoever wrote that "merch" lol. Because reading them gave me those same feels, so I tried my best to make sure they had weight here with how the reader reacted to them. 💕

I had a feeling those quiet moments wouldn’t last before the drama kicked in, but that moment felt so pivotal, like a real turning point in them opening up to each other even more. Brilliant chapter! 💕

Ooh yeah, the quiet couldn't last forever. 😅 I'm so glad it felt like a pivotal moment though!! This really is a turning point for them in their relationship moving forward, and you'll see how that unveils itself in Part 3. Thank you so much, friend!! 🥹💓💓

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @suckitands33

@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak

@megara0224 @yoongi-holland @illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala

@jessjad @impala-dreamer @k4marina @atenea585 @king-of-milf-lovers

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @daisychaingirl @star-yawnznn @number1whorehome

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @everything-is-all-clear

#lovely review! 💓💓#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #against the wind feedback

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alannacouture · 10 hours ago

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Guys…I wrote something new. For the first time since February! I’m not going to pretend this is the best fic I’ve ever written, but it was really nice to feel like I actually accomplished something creative again. I’ve never written a New Year’s Eve story before and I got to play around with Clarke and Bellamy’s idiots in love dynamic/figuring out a changing relationship while on Sanctum. (No Anomaly, no B/echo, Primes are gone, building new lives, etc, etc) Since this is my first new story in almost a year, I’m begging for feedback (comments, kudos, both, anything that let’s me know the fandom still wants new stories). Also, please enjoy two moodboards because I couldn’t decide which one I liked best.

I want to give a very special thank you to @kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp for always, always, always leaving the most supportive, wonderful comments. They mean the absolute world. I’d also like to thank @okmcintyre , @bellamygifs , @bellamyblake , @b4bethsstuff, @kizo2703 , @togetherkru , @carrieeve , @honestlydarkprincess , @dark-scape , @pendragaryen , @natassakar , @astridandoddsandends , & probably so many other people I’ve forgotten (I’m sorry 😞) for being so unbelievably supportive, for liking and sharing my work, and just keeping this fandom alive. You are all amazing & I appreciate each one of you so much ❤️❤️❤️ Wishing everyone the happiest of New Year’s & thank you again to every single person who has taken the time to read, comment, leave kudos, or just enjoy my work. You are the best 🥂🎆

#the 100 #t100 #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fic #t100 fanfic #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke edit #moodboard #eliza taylor #bob morley #beliza #new years eve #new years eve fanfiction #whatspastisprologue #ouat.t100.adow.sab.etc #alannacouture

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cheshireliam · 21 hours ago

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"A Christmas Devoted To Greed" Collection Event

Liam Evans

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Liam: Look at this, Kate!

It was the night of December 1st. Liam handed me a box with the numbers 1 to 24 written on it.

Liam: It’s called an Advent Calendar. You get a little gift every day until Christmas.

When Liam opened the section marked “1”, a cookie appeared.

The box was divided into 24 sections, each one seemingly containing a treat.

Kate: Wow…! How wonderful it is to enjoy not only Christmas day itself, but every day of December leading up to it too.

Liam: Right? From now on, I want to enjoy this with you little by little every day.

And so, we looked forward to opening the advent calendar together every day.

However, one day, something unexpected happened.

…

Roger: … Sorry. You guys were really looking forward to it.

In Roger’s hands was the advent calendar, now in a pitiful state.

Apparently, Ale happened to be visiting the castle and tore up the advent calendar when he smelled the sweets.

Liam: It's on me for not keeping it out of Ale’s reach, so don't worry about it.

Roger searched all over town to find a replacement, but wasn't successful because advent calendars were rare in England…

In the end, Roger offered to treat us to drinks as an apology.

(Liam was really looking forward to opening the advent calendar. I wonder if there's anything I can do…)

(... I have an idea!)

…

Three days before Christmas.

Liam: A present for me?

Kate: Yes! Go ahead and open it.

From the bag I held out to him, Liam pulled out a small box.

Liam: This is… an advent calendar?

Kate: It’s handmade, so it might not be as beautiful and only has dates from the 21st to the 23rd…

Liam: You specially made this for me because I was looking forward to opening one?

Liam: Thanks… this makes me incredibly happy.

As though handling a precious gemstone, Liam reverently and carefully took the handmade advent calendar into his hands.

Liam: … You know, when I was a child, Jacob* gave me an advent calendar.

*Jacob is the butler of the Evans’ Family. He was mentioned in Liam’s main story.

= Flashback to Liam’s Childhood =

Jacob: Would you accept this, Young Master?

Liam: What’s that?

Jacob: It’s called an Advent Calendar. Do you see the dates written on it?

Jacob: You get a small present every day until Christmas.

Liam: But I haven't done anything to deserve presents…

Jacob: That’s not true. Serving you has made my days more enjoyable, Young Master.

Jacob: So please accept this as a gift to thank you for every passing day!

= Flashback End =

Liam: And… when I happened to see an advent calendar at a store, I thought of wanting to enjoy it with you.

Liam: Being together with you makes every day shine brighter… and I’m grateful for that, Kate.

Liam: That’s why it makes me so happy that you handmade an advent calendar while thinking of me.

Liam: Can I open up the section for today’s date right now?

I nodded, and when Liam opened the calendar— his eyes sparkled.

…

On Christmas day.

After enjoying ourselves at Crown’s Christmas party, we returned to our room.

Liam: Kate, can I use these?

The three coulons he held out were the ones I included in the advent calendar.

Each one of them read things like “X-minute hug coupon”, “X kisses coupon”, or “X minutes of doing XX”.

The blanks were for Liam to fill in with numbers and words as he pleased.

Naturally, even without those coupons, I’d hug and kiss Liam however much he wanted.

Or do even more than that…

Liam sometimes held himself back around me, so I included those coupons hoping he’d feel better about touching me however he wanted.

(Although I kind of regretted it because it was a little too bold…)

(But seeing Liam so happy every time he opened the advent calendar made me happy too.)

Kate: Of course. I gave them to you precisely so you could use them.

Liam: Yay! Then I’ll start with the hug coupon.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked down at the coupon he handed me.

Kate: Hug for… 1000 minutes?

Liam: Yeah, that’s 16 hours and 40 minutes.

Repeating the number in a more straightforward manner, Liam pulled me into a tight hug.

Liam: … Until 3.40pm tomorrow, we’ll stay like this. After that, I’ll use the kiss coupon.

Kate: Kiss… 1000 times.

Liam: I figured it wouldn't be nice to be too hesitant, so I wrote down as many kisses I wanted. … Does it bother you?

Kate: Not at all… it makes me happy that you want to touch m—...mmph

My words were cut off with a kiss.

Liam: … Sorry, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That was one kiss. Can I go for the second?

Kate: … Yes.

It wasn’t a simple kiss this time. Liam’s tongue slipped past my lips and into my mouth.

Kate: Nn…mm…

The deep kiss made my head numb.

Liam: … That makes two kisses.

Kate: T-two? Even though it was that intense…?

Liam: A kiss is from when our lips touch to when they part, right? Now for the third kiss…

And just like that, Liam held me close and continued kissing me countless times while taking his time with each one.

Kate: Liam… I… can't…

We haven't even hugged for the full 1000 minutes, and we were still far from 1000 kisses.

But my body was already burning and right in my core I could feel an aching need for Liam.

Liam: Mm… I’m at my limit too. I’m going to use the last coupon.

The third coupon read “doing something pleasurable together for 1000 minutes”.

Liam: … Let’s both feel good for 1000 minutes, Kate.

I wholly accepted Liam’s passionate yet greedy love as we went deeper into Christmas night.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikevil translations #otome #ikevil collection event #liam evans

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604to647 · 16 hours ago

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Holidays in the 604

Hope everyone has been having a good holidays so far, however that looks for you or best suits your sensibilities 🥹🥰🫂🎄🎄

I started to write write some HCs for what the holidays might look like for the couples in a few of my series (Safest with You, The Rockford Portfolio, etc.) but for reasons below the cut, haven't had much energy or motivation to write (no need to read, it's a bit of a downer and kind of rambly!) - I'm hoping that I can find a little bit of both in the next few days and maybe get some thoughts down to still post.

For those same reasons, I haven't been on here much, to my detriment if I'm being honest - this place is a source of escapism for me and not being able to come on here for more than a few minutes a day has felt a bit offputting. I feel like I've missed a lot of amazing holiday stories that would have likely boosted my spirits a bit - I'll try to go back and find them but if you have or read any that you wish to recommend/share, please do let me know!

Similarly, thank you to everyone for your tags/mentions/asks - I want to get to them and maybe still participate in a few tag games if it's not too late when I muster up some energy. Thank you for thinking of me!! I truly wish that you all continue to have a lovely holiday season and look forward to ringing in the new year! You're all such a welcomed presence in my life and I'm grateful to each and every one of you for being here! Hope to see you soon 🥹 KISS KISS 😘😘

Ok, now as to why Emily has a bit of the holiday blues this year:

I didn't grow up with a lot of hard set Christmas traditions, celebrations around the end of the year didn't go much beyond the commercial and the holiday season was mainly appreciated for being time off (from school, work), a time to rest and relax. There was cheer and joy, but as the kids say these days, it wasn't that deep. I've since married into a family that puts A LOT of pressure on Christmas - with an emphasis on physical togetherness and adhering to traditions/customs, that (to me anyways) can feel at times more performative than enjoyable; I totally understand the comfort in doing things the way they've always been done, but a lot of times it feels like people are just checking things off a list rather than genuinely enjoying (for example) baking the Christmas cookies, you know what I mean? Couple that with my priorities for my kiddos' Christmas, the way we spend Christmas now can feel a lot like a season of obligation. Depending on what the particular plan is for that year, it can also be incredibly hard, draining, and not all that jolly for me.

This was one of those years.

I hosted the big Christmas dinner at my house and also had those from out of town staying with us for a week. I'm a Virgo who thinks of her home as her sanctuary, am a bit fastidious about her things, and sees value in being forthright. It's a lot for me to have people taking over my house, making messes, and pushing/crossing boundaries that I've tried to set due to previous visits, all while maintaining a certain level of holiday cheer and slapping on a facade of "it's fine" when I definitely don't feel that way. I'll admit I wasn't always successful this past week.

Mr. 604 is very supportive and knows his family can be a lot, but at the end of the day a) he's just a man 😂 (and not a miracle worker) and b) they are his family and he himself has had to "grin and bear" a great many things over the course of his life, so he has more practice at it but doesn't necessarily have any advice to impart on how to better cope with the chaos.

It makes me feel like a curmudgeon for not being able to suck it up more and pretend for the sake of the kids, or even to help maintain this performance of "family togetherness" that seems to be the whole point of whatever the heck everyone was doing. So this holiday season has thus far been exhausting, filled with guilt, and left me feeling a bit empty.

I am okay and recovering now, it will just take a few days I think. If you read this far - thank you! I just needed to rant a little bit - I don't feel much like myself these days and that in itself can be depressing, especially at a time when I'm supposed to be experiencing the opposite. Here's to some rest, some quiet, some peace in the last few days of 2024 for myself, Mr. 604, and anyone else who needs it! 🤞🏻🥰

#personal #might delete later idk #happy holidays loves

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 day ago

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Hello! So I searched your blog to see if this was already rec’d and couldn’t find it, but apologies if this is a duplicate.

I need to rec Home is where your heart is by ilse_writes on AO3. It is criminal how few kudos this has. It’s a beautiful story about recovery and friendship and falling in love; it’s Steve and Eddie creeping together with complete devotion to one another. Uncle Wayne is also very present and an absolute saint. I’ve read it twice now and it’s up there with my all time favourite Steddie fics. ❤️

Thank you so much for this blog, I don’t underestimate the work that goes into it and I know the fandom truly appreciates you. ❤️

Home is where your heart is by ilse_writes

Rating: Teen and Up

80,651 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Slow Burn, Slice of Life, Found Family, Bad Parenting, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Hospitalization, Coma, Recovery, Living with disabilities, Finding Yourself, Asexuality, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Munson, Asexual Steve Harrington, Homelessness, Friendship, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Room, Wounds and Scars, Ace!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, digital art included

Summary:

Post-Vecna, Eddie recovers from almost getting killed in the Upside Down and Steve finds himself without a house. They might have to depend on each other more than they think. A story of friendship, taking care of each other and love.

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

#steddie #steddieunderdogfics #fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #rated t

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xxplastic-cubexx · 2 months ago

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waiting for marvel to take you up as their comic artist so that we can have amazing art with cherik official storyline

marvel hire me to draw professor x and magneto making out sloppy style for forty issues straight you will get a BAJILLION dollars i promise

#fave #snap chats #'professor x' what are you a cop. moving on #vjeLKVJEALKV thank you much my friend one can only dream .....#you know whats so funny tho this just reminds me how like. My Number One Cheerleader was my highschool english teacher #she also ran the comic club in case thats relevant. because i was a part of that club OBVIOUSLY #i used to want to be a comic book artist but now i dont but anyway as a part of this club we'd have to draw comics sometimes #and alllll the time my teach would be so happy to get my stuff and she'd always be like #'[Snap] please promise me you'll never give up comics i want to read a comic from you one day' and stuff like that #i think id throw up laughing if i got to email her one day like 'omg hey teach 1.) im not a moody teenager anymore #2.) i got to work for marvel check it out <3' and i have to send her old man yaoi JLVKEJLKAEVJE #FUNNIEST TIMELINE IN THE WORLD I'D ACTUALLY DIE LIKE PLEAAAASSEE THATS ALL I COULD EVER WANT IN LIFE #on the realest note tho i didnt appreciate her enthusiasm enough. i wish i could tell her thank you someday #i think of her a lot whenever im in the dumps about my work she really is one of my biggest motivators #like i guess i COULD just shoot an email. maybe if i actually do something cool with comics or something #i dont even know if she remembers me so it'd just be bizarre wouldnt it #ANYWAYS. sappy story time's over theres a matcha crepe cake with my name on it BYYYYYEEEEE

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stormyoceans · 5 months ago

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(i'm afraid it's me again, the au genre anon. i loved your answer abt the regency we are au so much i had to write a little something based on what you said. it's nothing worth posting on ao3 and i don't think i can write further, but i had to share it since you were so inspiring!! i hope it's not annoying of me.)

//FIRST IMPRESSIONS//

After dodging several eager Mamas throwing their eligible offspring at him, Phum found Fang hiding in the back, pretending to examine some unremarkable painting as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

“Will you tell me finally what is the matter with you?” Phum demanded, doing his best to keep his voice from floating over the happy crowd of assembly-goers. But after watching his brother mingle with the noble and common families, all with a false smile and a tightness around his eyes, Phum had neared the end of his patience. Fang might be able to fool most people with his charm and good looks, but Phum knew something had deeply upset his brother since almost the moment they’d stepped foot in the assembly hall.

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Fang through a smile arranged as perfectly as his cravat. “Aside from me feeling somewhat over-warm. I didn’t expect it to be so crowded in here. Why are you wasting your time here with me? Go, dance! Try to have fun – though I know how loathe you are to do so.”

Phum rolled his eyes. As if this blatant attempt at distraction could work on him so easily! Fang pointedly turned away, going back to the painting he’d been using as a cover for his brooding. Apparently, the assembly hall patrons had had the idea to display artwork throughout the rooms to liven the evening, which Phum thought was an immensely silly contrivance. People didn’t come to these balls and assemblies and gatherings to enjoy art. They came to hunt for spouses, to brag about their houses or carriages or fashionable coats and dresses, and to get away from their families for a night. It was all part of an elaborate game that everyone had been playing for years and where Phum had, as always, stood on the outside looking in.

It was why he felt almost sorry for the artists themselves, who'd been invited to attend tonight's assembly. Almost being key. They were a small group, floating around the assembly, looking uncomfortable and keeping to themselves. Poor fools must be intimidated by the vicious Marriage Mart. Lady Fai, Fang’s fiancee, clearly felt sorry for them. Phum had spotted her chatting with a few of the painters earlier, her bright cheer putting everyone around her at ease. He wished she’d forget about them and pay more attention to Fang, who needed her more right now.

A nudge at his elbow startled Phum, and he realized he’d been glaring at the painting before him. It was Fang, staring at him curiously.

“Rather remarkable piece of art, don’t you think?” Fang asked.

“I don’t want to talk about the damn art,” Phum said crossly. “I’m here to find out why you’ve been upset this whole evening. Did somebody say anything to you? Do I need to second you in another duel at dawn?”

Fang smiled beatifically. “Beautiful brushwork.”

Phum made a harsh noise of frustration. He glanced once again at the painting, which he didn’t think he’d seen properly the whole time he’d been looking at it. It was just a seascape, nothing special, and he refused to examine it further. “Why you waste your time in front of this particular painting, I can’t understand. Do you really expect me to believe you’re so enamored of this trite, dull piece of art that you’ll stay here the whole time? As if anybody put any sort of real thought into this aside from ‘la, I suppose I’ll draw a pretty little sea and get to go to the ball!’ Please, brother!”

Fang’s unimpressed stare changed into a look of utter horror so sharply that Phum became uneasy. When the voice cut in behind him, the shock felt like he’d plunged into the cold waters of the painting.

“I assure you, I didn’t drag your brother in front of my painting.”

Phum whirled around – and came face-to-face with the most handsome man he’d seen in his life. Feline dark eyes set in a fine-boned face glared at him, then cut away. Phum was forced to step aside as the stranger walked past him to address Fang, ignoring Phum with the grace of a knife.

“Ah, it’s Peem, yes?” Fang said hastily, summoning his smoothest smile. “You seem to have come upon me teasing my brother most frightfully. The fault is entirely mine, I’m afraid. Is this your painting? I had heard from… from others that you were most talented. You must tell me more about this particular piece.”

Oh. Oh, no. Phum inhaled sharply and audibly. The strange man – Peem – shot him a disdainful glance, then turned back to Fang with a jagged smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time further, my lord, with my meager thoughts,” said Peem. “You must have heard of me from my friend, Tan. He mentioned to me that you both had a prior acquaintance from town. I must say, from what I heard tell, I believed you to keep more gentlemanly company than present.”

His words dripped like honeyed poison. Without another look in Phum’s direction, as if he’d already gained an estimate of Phum and found him unworthy of further consideration, Peem bowed and marched off.

Fang had gone pale and his hands were trembling slightly. But Phum couldn’t focus on anything besides his own nausea and racing heart. What had he just done?

‘I must go after him and apologize,’ said a small voice inside Phum’s head, quiet and ashamed. Then he felt a rush of anger, the anger of being humiliated, of being so thoroughly misunderstood and cast aside. Cast aside if Phum was nothing.

“Well,” said Phum coldly, hearing himself as if from a distance. “It appears my small misstep has offended that young man. He could have waited for my apology instead of trying to humiliate me in front of this crowd. Don’t be too furious with him, brother. I hope it doesn’t get back to your friend. Who is Tan, anyway? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

There was a beat of silence. And then:

“No one,” said Fang softly. “He’s no one at all.”

SCREAMING AND HOWLING AND YELLING AND SHOUTING AND SHRIEKING AND SCREECHING AND RUNNING LAPS ON THE CEILING WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SPINNING COUNTERCLOCKWISE ON THE FLOOR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND ENGAGING IN FITS OF FEMALE HYSTERIA

I RESPECTFULLY BUT FIRMLY VERY MUCH DISAGREE ON THIS NOT BEING WORTH OF BEING POSTED ON AO3 ANON THIS IS SOSOSOS OSOSSO SOOOOOOOOOOOOO PERFECT OH MY GODDDDDDDSDSJKGSF

im not good with coherent comments and there are SO MANY GOOD PARTS in this that im not quite sure where to start but i love love LOVE your phum's voice, you were able to capture him so well!!!!!! his thoughts about the ball!!!!!! the way he knows that something's off with fang!!!!!! how he ends up being so harsh with his words about peem's painting partly because of the frustration he feels at fang avoiding his questions!!!!!! his first instinct being to apologize to peem right away but then getting angry at being so unfairly treated!!!!!! and then there's peem with his cutting politeness and graceful disapproval!!!!!! and fang with his quiet yearning and pain and regret still trying to shield phum from reproach!!!!!!

Lady Fai, Fang’s fiancee, clearly felt sorry for them. Phum had spotted her chatting with a few of the painters earlier, her bright cheer putting everyone around her at ease. <<< I LOVE THIS DETAIL OF FAI TALKING WITH PEEM AND THE OTHERS!!!!!!!! they're gonna be friends!!!!!!!!!

“Did somebody say anything to you? Do I need to second you in another duel at dawn?” <<< PHUM HAVING TO BE FANG'S SECOND IN A DUEL LITERALLY THE MOST IN-CHARACTER THING EVER

“Is this your painting? I had heard from… from others that you were most talented.” <<< fang not wanting to give away the fact that he knows tan but also FANG NOT BEING ABLE TO EVEN SPEAK TAN'S NAME OUT LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“No one,” said Fang softly. “He’s no one at all.” <<< WHAT IF I WALKED INTO TRAFFIC

........anyway. sorry i kinda got carried away with this ;;;;;;; i know you said you probably can't write further anon, but if you ever feel inspired to do so JUST PLEASE KNOW I WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO GET MORE OF IT!!!!!!!!! AND IN THE MEAN TIME THANK YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS!!!!!!!!!!

#ALSO HAND IN MARRIAGE MAYBE ANON???????#IM SOOOOO IN LOVE WITH THIS I'VE HONESTLY REREAD IT 926483583 TIMES #and you're not annoying at all anon!!!!!!#i may not always be quick to answer messages but please know i appreciate and cherish all of them!!!!!!#thank you so much again for this im gonna read it again as a bed time story!!!!!!!#hope you're having the most wonderful day!!!!!!! 💜💜💜#we are the series #phumpeem #tanfang #m: ask

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

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Hi 👋🏽 I’ll be going on an indefinite break that may (or may not) be for good.

Writing fanfiction was an escape for me these past 2 years. It was a way to express my love for the tannies in how I wrote them as comfort characters, and it was a way for me to make sense of my own experiences and emotions. These fics have always been very personal, with a bit of me in every OC, my pains reflected in their stories, and words I wish someone told me growing up expressed in the dialogues. And I’ll always be so thankful that many of you related with them, found meaning in them, and found comfort in them. That will always be my favorite part 💜💜 stories are so powerful! They’ve allowed me to connect with so many people and make memories in this (mostly) lovely part of the site.

But the process of writing has also been draining, not as cathartic as it used to be, and not as fulfilling. So much as I find myself going back and forth with the numerous stories in my drafts, I can’t bring myself to continue with them. Not anytime soon, at least. Maybe one day the itch to write will be so intense, or JJK1/KTH1 drops and I’ll lose my shit (Untitled and Belong were born out of Indigo and D-day after all), or after rereading my stories, I’ll miss writing so much. The thing is, I’ve never loved BTS as much as I do right now; perhaps I’m content with screaming about that love to myself in the meantime.

I’ll be lurking around here, maybe pop in every once in a while (so plagiarists, keep off my work, pls). My stories will remain here as your comfort 😌 and I’ll do my best to put out the PLM drabbles I promised! Other than that, all the stories are complete for you to enjoy (sorry to those waiting on TLA 😔 I hate that I’m unable to continue). I also have Twitter (jmimi_mi). I’m also just a lurker but say hi if you want! 😊 we can talk bts and fics and whatnot over there (I’ll try, I promise).

Please give love to the authors who are still lovingly putting out work for the community! 🥰

#tl;dr I’ll be on an indefinite break bc the writing just isn’t working for now!#and I love BTS #and thank you so much for appreciating the stories!#PLM drabble will still come some day!#++ I know I’ve had multiple breaks but srsly now my brain is too fried to write like #I have so many ideas that stay in my head and it’s so frustrating that I feel like unless I say I’m taking a break from writing #for a longer period this time then I’ll just keep pressuring myself to write something and it’s winter break and I don’t want pressure #especislly if it’s coming from me! lol also all the stories in my drafts are meant to be LONG and I might not have the energy to finish it #and you guys know I don’t put out anything unfinished so yeah 😔#it also sucks that I haven’t read in SO LONG so yes tumblr u are losing me I’m sry 😢#i also just wanted to say all this if this is for good so yes THANK U and UR ALL WONDERFUL #mimi things #mimi rambles

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viperfizz · 10 months ago

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I can’t stop imagining a scene in your mermaid AU where Xara waves Ellie over. Ellie walks closer and crouches near the water, unsure of what to expect. And Xara proceeds to reach into the murky water in front of her and pull out the silliest little brindled madtom catfish ever and hold it up to Ellie like “look at what I have!”

awww absolutely!! mer!xara likes to show off her prized possessions to ellie. it’s her odd way of showing affection and building trust. and she also just never gets to show people anything she finds bc she never interacts with any humans so it’s very exciting when she meets ellie!

mavis is one of those prized possessions

truth be told if mavis was a catfish in this au xara might just eat her the first time she encounters her. she’s a wild animal after all. she eats fish 🤷 though i do love the idea of her being like “i like this one i’ll let it live”

however i am debating on how i wanna approach the concept of xara being able to transform herself and walk on land. so if i did ever incorporate mavis somehow, she might just be the same lil tortoiseshell cat that she is in the normal xaragaard au. that way she would have a better chance of being spared (again, xara is still a wild animal. she would probably have the temptation to strike, but would hold back cause wait a minute this creature isn’t familiar to my diet and it’s kinda cute)

xara might find a boat nearby with the name “mavis” on it and think you know what this slaps actually

i might just not have mavis involved in this au though cause it breaks my heart thinking about xara seeing her sweet baby as potential prey. maybe she’ll have a cameo appearance instead :)

#damn this au is getting so much love i’m so glad but also don’t know what to say bc it’s not even fully fleshed out lmaooo #i’m so tired i’m probably gonna read this back in the morning and be like wtf am i yapping about #i appreciate you a lot op it warms my heart knowing someone enjoys my content and actively asks questions and gives input!!#i just love you all thank you so so much for the love #the pit of confessions #minecraft story mode #mcsm #xaragaard #mcsm xara #mcsm ellegaard #mcsm fanart #mcsm au

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dragonsdomain · 6 months ago

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Out of Office, chapter 7

AO3

Chapter 6

"Who's gonna be the one to explain to Linda why all three of her guests are now senseless on the couch?" Oliver asked.

He and Joy were now standing as spirits several feet from each of their bodies. While Oliver was glad to see that Luke was okay(ish), and the colors were fun (Joy was a pretty shade of blue, and Oliver was green), things were happening fast, and there were a lot of parts of the situation that still needed to be worried about.

"Please don't tell her the truth about it all," Sean asked, blowing on his fingers after making two extra guardian flowers in a row. "It was hard for her to find closure after I died, and I don't want her having to worry about me still being around."

Joy raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you and Eugene are friends... uh, fine. Okay. We'll come up with a lie of some kind. Eugene might have to be the one to tell her though. Eugene? Do you think you could tell her we had a long day or something and were super tired?"

Eugene was curled up on the couch, half in his body. "Uhuh," he wheezed, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Oliver turned back to Luke. "Okay, so. Evil ghost monster kidnapped a ghost friend and now we have to go save her."

"Because if we don't, Eugene will try to, which in his current state would be really dumb and end badly," Joy added.

Eugene grumbled something from the couch.

"You can't just go after that thing unarmed," Sean said nervously. "Eugene, did you happen to bring any of the Office's ghost artifacts?"

Eugene wordlessly dug in his pockets and pulled out a black fan, a lock of dark hair looped in a knot, and a cloth hat of some kind.

Sean floated over and took them from him. "Thanks, Eugene. We'll be sure to keep them safe. You can sleep now, if you want."

Eugene glared and stubbornly kept sitting upright.

"What are those?" Luke asked, walking over.

"Some ghosts (usually strong ones) have items from their life that gain power after they die. They can do a number of things," Sean explained. "This fan can seal hostile ghosts in it and also be used as a weapon in a pinch. The hair can be used to trap and entangle ghosts, or fling them, if you want. This hat lets you talk to cats. Not sure how useful that'll be, but we have it."

Oliver blinked. "Wait... what about a crucifix? A crucifix with the power to ward ghosts?"

Sean tilted his head. "I mean, I guess that's an example of an artifact somebody could have."

Oliver put his hands out. "You guys. My grandmother's crucifix. She loved that thing. Luke got yeeted out of his body by my grandmother's magic ghost-warding crucifix."

"Oh yeah," Joy said, pressing her lips together. "That, or any number of the other anti-ghost things you brought."

"Oh, uh, oops." Oliver smiled apologetically at Luke.

Luke waved his comment off. "It's fine, you didn't know. Could that crucifix maybe be useful for fighting the monster, though?"

"Er, seems like it would be a problem that we can't get to it in ghost form," Oliver said. "And then in human form we wouldn't be able to see the monster."

"Good point," Joy said.

Luke took the fan. "So the plan is to seal the ghost in here at the end?"

Joy took the lock of hair. "But first we have to weaken it and make sure we get Charlie out of there safely."

Oliver took the hat. "...With cats?"

Sean shrugged. "I guess? Joan's gun probably would've been more useful." Oliver whispered ghost gun under his breath as Sean turned to Eugene and asked, "Eugene? You didn't happen to bring Joan's cane too, did you?"

Eugene blinked, looking barely awake. "Uh... no, it didn't feel right with her in it."

"Oh, okay," Sean said. Why is she in the ghost gun Oliver whispered under his breath, and no one deigned to answer.

The four of them started heading towards the staircase down to the front door. Eugene started to push himself up to follow them, but Sean gently pushed him back down.

The four of them walked to the front door, and Luke tentatively pushed it open. "Oh, huh. Somehow I thought the ghost we're chasing would be easy to see from here?"

"Drat. How are we supposed to find it now?" Joy grimaced.

Oliver grinned, pulling the hat onto his head. "Cats."

...

Charlie's house was old and creaky, full of dust, like no one had lived in it for a long time. Her father's ancestors had lived in this house for generations, and with each of them that died inside of it, more of the house died as well.

Quite a few pieces of Charlie had died here too. She remembered the day her father had torn up her first paper doll because he'd caught her playing with it instead of studying for a test. She remembered the day her cat had gone missing, and the day a week later when she'd found its body rotting in a shallow grave with a gunshot wound in its side. She didn't remember the first day she saw her father hitting her mother, but she remembered the first day he'd hit her.

She vaguely remembered a time when she'd been young and hopeful. When she had rose-tinted dreams for the future. When she'd been happy. But those parts of herself had died, and their unreachable memory haunted the manor along with all the other ghosts.

There were many rooms in the house, but the older Charlie got, the fewer of them she ever went in, until in her last year she only traveled through the few that lead in a direct path from her bedroom, to the kitchen, to the front door.

Now she was in her bedroom again, wondering why she'd killed her father.

She knew why, of course. She'd... resented him for a while. "Hated him", she would've said, but somehow that didn't quite fit, even though she felt like she ought to hate him, deserved to. If she truly hated him, Would she have felt so guilty for having killed him? But now she felt ashamed. Her hands were covered in blood; it wasn’t wet anymore, but she couldn’t wash it off. It would be with her forever.

However long her route through the house usually was, it was now very short. She was grounded, never to leave the house, never to leave her room.

She was so alone, but it was what she deserved.

“Charlie?” a voice called, and she flinched before realizing it wasn’t her father’s voice. Not her mother’s either.

Charlie looked up toward her bedroom window (no light came through it). Mike was there, peeking in at her. “Could you let me in?” he asked, tapping the glass.

Charlie hesitated, not wanting to involve him, but eventually decided to go ahead and listen to him for once. She stood from her bed, then reached up and unlatched the window.

Mike pushed it open and climbed inside the room with her. He grinned. “It’s really you! It’s great to see you again, finally.”

Charlie felt confused for a minute. Somehow she felt like they hadn’t seen each other for years, but he hadn’t aged. He looked exactly the same as when she’d last seen him. Except…

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked, walking around. “Is this your bedroom? From when we were kids?”

“I’m grounded,” Charlie said.

“I thought your dad was… um… not around anymore?”

“He came back to haunt me,” Charlie said blankly, dropping back down onto her bed. “To make me face what I did. To give me what I deserve.”

“What did you do?” Mike said, sitting down beside her.

Charlie’s head sunk. “You know what I did.”

“No, I don’t. Are you talking about this?”

Charlie looked up, and Mike was pointing at the scar over his eye.

She glared at him, tearing up. “Of course, I should’ve known. Are you here to haunt me too?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not. I’m not mad. Well, I might’ve been, a little, when it first happened. But it’s been years. I’ve moved on. You should too.”

Mike was older than Charlie was. He’d kept on growing while she stayed the same. He looked like he might be somewhere in his twenties now, and the gash over his eye was long-scarred over, fully healed. But she was still in her worst year of high school, wearing her rumpled uniform with dotted with unwashed blood.

Charlie let her head drop. “You’re an idiot. I can’t move on. I can’t forget it. I can’t ignore it. I can’t keep it secret. I tried to move on and be better, but I can’t stop messing up and hurting people. Eugene’s ghost friends are all gone ‘cause I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut, ‘cause I couldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. And my past has caught up to me too, ‘cause it knows I don’t deserve to have people around me who don’t know what I did.”

“Oh, come on.” Mike folded his arms. “If running away from it is such a bad idea, then say it out loud. What did you do?”

Charlie snapped at him. “I murdered my father!”

Mike flinched, but he didn’t look surprised. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Charlie sagged. “Why’d you make me say it?”

“Why’d you do it?” Mike countered.

Charlie glared at him, then looked back down. “I was angry. And… scared.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Okay. That checks out. So do you regret it?”

The room was silent for a minute. “I don’t know,” Charlie responded.

“I think you do,” Mike said, “if it’s been a decade, and you’re still beating yourself up over it.”

“So that’s it then,” Charlie said, resigned. “I deserve this. I am a monster.”

“Ugh, no you don’t. That’s not what I was saying.” He gave her shoulder a little shake. “Look up at me, Charlie-Charlie.”

She did.

“Yeah, he did a bad thing. A really bad thing. But you were, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Teens mess up sometimes. I sure know I did, though thankfully not so bad anyone’s dead about it. And also I know you were having a rough home life, and it was kind of obvious you had some mental health issues. Yeah, you messed up, but you wouldn’t do it again. I’ve moved on, your dad’s moved on, so should you.”

Charlie looked up at him incredulously. “My dad hasn’t moved on. Don’t you know where we are?”

“No? Oh wait.” Mike blinked as the gears turned in his head. “Oh, was that big lanky ghost thing your dad? I thought it was you, or, some manifestation of your self-hatred, I guess?” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m honestly a little confused. No one really explained to me what’s going on.”

Charlie stared at him. “Are you the real Mike?”

“Yeah…?”

Charlie dropped her head into her hands, muttering a muffled swear. “I can’t believe I said all that stuff to you. I thought I was just having a heart-to-heart with a dream Mike, from my subconscious or something.”

Mike cackled at her, and she wanted to punch him (affectionately). “That’s so dramatic!”

Charlie glared at him. “Well how did you get here?” she snapped, like she was accusing him of something.

“Well okay, so get this.” Mike splayed his hands out like he was ready to drop a bombshell piece of gossip. “Couple days ago I had this dream where a tall asian-looking dude told me to find ‘Eugene’ at Station 00 and he’d help me talk to you. And I thought, yo, that’s so specific, and I could remember it super clearly when I woke up. So I went and did it, ‘cause I thought it would be funny if something cool actually was there, and also it was a good excuse to go exploring. But there was a guy named Eugene there! Crazy!”

“Ah. Okay then.” Charlie didn’t know how to feel about Boss still messing around near them. Eugene might be happy to hear that? Or not?

“No there’s more. I had another dream today! I mean, it wasn’t really a dream ‘cause it kind of just happened while I was walking along, super weird, I kind of thought I was hallucinating. Maybe I was. I sure hope I’m not crazy. But anyway he told me to go over here, so I did.” Mike stared off into the distance for a second, like he was finally realizing how insane he sounded. “Please believe me.”

“Hey no, I believe you. I know the guy. Weirdo.”

“Okay. Cool.” Mike stood up. “So we’re in your dad’s ghost’s nightmare dimension or something? We should probably get out. Forget what I said about him moving on. Because I still think you should move on. And him too. Talk about holding a grudge. So! Let’s go.”

“I’m grounded,” Charlie said dismally.

“Oh, come on! Now you start listening to your dad?” Mike pumped a fist. “The only one grounding you is yourself!”

Mike grabbed Charlie’s arm and pulled her towards the door. “Come on!”

“Ack! My dad’ll catch us! Can't we just climb out the window?"

“The window actually doesn't lead outside, just to another room of the house, for some reason. We’ll be sneaky! We just need to get out of your house and we’re home free! Probably. I still don’t know how ghost things work.”

Charlie winced. "Okay. We'll try. But if he catches us, you run. I don't want to see you hurt."

...

When they found the ghost monster that'd made off with Charlie, it was hunched over against a wall, like it was meditating. Charlie was not in sight.

"It's sleeping?" Oliver asked. "Do we just suck it up into the fan now?"

Sean waved his hands anxiously. "Wait, no, I don't think that's a good idea. It ran off with Charlie, right? It might have her in its dream."

"Dream?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. Ghosts can go into people's dreams. Or memories. Either way, we can't contain that ghost until we've gotten Charlie safely out." Sean chuckled nervously. "Or, until you guys've gotten her out. I don't know how much help I'd be."

Joy cringed. "We really don't know what we're getting into, and I'm thinking we might need all the help we can get. Plus, the three of us don't know what we're doing. Come with us. Please?"

Sean sagged. "Okay, okay. I'll come."

...

Charlie and Mike rounded another corner, and Charlie felt a growing knot in her stomach tighten. "Something's wrong. I don't remember this many hallways existing before," she whispered.

"Oh, okay. Uhh, maybe we should just keep wandering, hope we find the way out?" Mike whispered back.

"I don't like this," Charlie said. "This is his dream. We'll probably take way longer to find an exit than he'll take to find us."

"Well, if he finds us we run." Mike shrugged. "Simple as that."

"And we'll split up," Charlie said, narrowing her eyes. "So he chases me, not you."

"Sure, sure. I'll run... somewhere. Whatever."

"Ugh, you." Charlie scoffed.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in the dining room. Despite it being next to the kitchen, Charlie hardly ever ate there. The paintings she vaguely remembered being hung on the walls were gone, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"I wonder if there's some kind of clue as to where we should go?" Mike muttered.

Charlie walked around the table, looking at the different doorways they could take. The kitchen she knew was not through any of them. She paused for a second to shake some kind of debris from the carpet off of her foot.

Wait.

Charlie looked down and saw that that debris... was paper. Shreds of colored paper, intricately patterned. She recognized them as being the remains of paper dolls, though couldn't identify which ones. She could see on each shred of paper the clean and deliberate edge where she cut with her scissors, as well as the ragged edges where the dolls were torn apart.

"Mike," she whispered. "Come over here."

Mike came over, and Charlie pointed out the paper. "It's a trail. It leads this way."

"Those remind me of the paper dolls I used to see you making in class. Is that a good sign? Should we follow it?"

Charlie frowned. "It might also be a trail of destruction left by my father's ghost."

"It's our only lead, but... what do you think?"

"I want to follow it," Charlie said with a conviction that surprised her. "Wherever it leads, I want to get there. I want to reach an end."

"Well! That was a really ominous way of saying that. But okay," Mike nodded. "Let's follow the trail."

The two of them headed off, following the trail of shredded paper. Charlie kept her gaze pointing down at the trail as they passed through halls that looked almost the same, rooms that each seemed like several rooms Charlie remembered, yet also neither and none, all missing paintings on the walls, or else housing empty frames, which were equally disconcerting. Charlie started to wonder if the trail had really started in the dining room, or if she'd missed something, and that maybe they were following the trail the wrong way.

The trail came to an end just before a door Charlie knew all too well. The only one besides her bedroom door which she and Mike had found closed. The door to her father's study.

"Why'd we stop?" Mike whispered.

Charlie's hand moved forward, driven by something akin to curiosity, to purpose, laced with dread. She gripped the handle and turned the door. It slowly swung open with a creak that grew louder as it opened wider, before the door finally dropped softly off of its hinges.

The body in the middle of the floor looked old, as did the rest of the room. It was nothing but a skeleton, all its flesh having worn off, with no memory of it but the strange stains weighing down the crusty clothes hanging over that figure. A large splotch of the rug below it was stained a dull brown.

"Charlie?" Mike asked. "What are you looking at?"

Charlie blinked, and the illusion was gone. She was still holding the door handle, unopened.

She let go of the handle and stepped back. "I can't do it."

"I'll get it," Mike said. He took the handle and pulled the door open.

The office was empty. And behind Charlie's father's imposing desk, letting in a stream of cold moonlight, was a large window.

"An escape!" Mike cried, rushing towards the window to undo the latch and pull it open. Cold air puffed into the room. "Charlie-Charlie, come on!"

"Coming, coming," she said, taking one last glance over her shoulder.

Then she froze.

The door had swung closed behind her, and on the back of it was hung a portrait of her father.

"Trying to run away again, Charlie?" the picture said.

Charlie whirled around and vaulted out the window, landing in a run through the snowy ground.

Mike broke into a run beside her. "What's wrong?"

"My father! He's there!"

She took a glance over her shoulder and saw him slowly walking towards her, but gaining on her as though she wasn't moving at all. He looked just as he had been when he was alive, yet as horrible as when he was dead.

Mike slid to a stop and started pitching snowballs at him. "Take that! Ha! Leave her alone!"

Charlie whirled around. "Mike, no!"

Charlie's father came up to Mike, and his hand snapped out, gripping Mike's neck. Mike scrabbled uselessly at the man's hand as he picked him up like he weighed nothing.

"Let him go!" Charlie screamed, swinging a punch at her father's face.

But her scissors were in her hand.

She froze in terror, blade held inches from her father's face, as images of what she'd done to Mike flashed through her head.

Her father chuckled, making no move to stop her. "So you still want to kill me, do you? Well I'll never be dead. I'll haunt you forever. You think you hate me? Imagine how much I hate you. You horrible girl, you ruined everything. Kill me again and see if it makes you feel better! You'll never be free."

Charlie let loose a rage-filled scream and brought her scissors stabbing down on the arm holding onto Mike's neck.

Charlie's father let out a surprised gasp, letting Mike drop to the ground. Mike tried to lunge toward Charlie's father, but Charlie grabbed him and shoved him away. "I told you to RUN!"

Charlie's father slammed into her from the side, shoving her to the ground. Her face was pushed against the snow, and she inhaled it when she tried to breathe and started coughing.

She struggled against her father, but it was like trying to wrestle the sand. She couldn't budge him. He shoved her face down into the snow again and she tried to stay calm and hold her breath. She heard Mike yell and try to shove her father off of her, but she heard him get thrown aside with a deep thud into the snow.

"Got you!" Someone yelled, and Charlie felt the weight on her lift, then be abruptly yanked off of her to the side.

She shoved up off of the ground and gulped in oxygen, then searched around for Mike. He was there, just a few feet away, also pushing up from the snow. He looked dazed, but unhurt.

Charlie looked back towards her saviors and saw Eugene's friends, along with Sean. Joy was roughly slamming Charlie's father up and down onto the snow by the ends of what looked like River's hair. After a minute he lay still on the ground, Luke pulled out Boss' fan, snapped it open, and Charlie's father was sucked in.

Charlie sagged, dropping to the snow in exhaustion, as the cold world faded around her to be replaced with real life. That was it. She was so tired...

...

It was a few days later, and Eugene and Luke, Joy, and Oliver were working together to sweep up broken glass from the office at Station 00. Eugene's station boss had called him out to help with it (Eugene was grateful for any number of work hours after sudden week of unpaid vacation), and his three friends had volunteered to come along and help, to make sure he didn't push himself too hard while still recovering from his ghostly injuries.

Luke picked up a large piece of glass and threw it into a bin. "Did Charlie tell you about how the ghost that kidnapped her was her father, who she'd killed as a teen?"

"Yeah," Eugene said. He was taking a breather at the moment, sitting on a beat-up chair. "Though I already knew beforehand."

"That's messed up," Oliver said, shaking his head as he swept.

"Yeah, it is," Eugene said, resting his chin on his knee. "I'm tired of trying to be hard on people for bad things they've done though. She regrets it, she's doing better. That's enough for me. Turns out a lot of people are less perfect than you'd hope they'd be."

Joy rested her chin on her broom to give Eugene a pointed look. "Does that include not being hard on yourself?"

Eugene sighed. "Yes, I'm sorry. I know I was stupid, I shouldn't have been trying to do everything on my own."

"We can help if you need us," Luke said. "We might not work at the station with you, but now that we're in on your secret, we can help out with ghost stuff."

Eugene frowned. "I'm still kind of peeved you guys went behind my back about that."

Joy put her hands up. "I get it! I'm sorry! I won't do it anymore, I've learned my lesson. Yes. It's my fault, that was invasive and not okay and we should've just talked to you." She rolled her eyes.

Eugene had the feeling she didn't completely regret it, but he was going to let it go. "I appreciate this."

"No problem," said Oliver. "I'm an expert at cleanup stuff."

"I mean..." Eugene looked down sheepishly. "Thanks for. Making sure I didn't get myself killed. For being my friends. And... sticking with me even if it's weird and I wasn't great at being open with you."

Luke walked over and threw a hand around Eugene's shoulders. "Dude, it's cool. Generally speaking, you have a right to your secrets, so long as they're not hurting you. But like you said, nobody's perfect. We still love you."

Eugene smiled, giving Luke a hug back. "Thanks."

...

Charlie stared at the headstone. Her full name was written out on it, her birth date, and the date of her death. A small note about her being a daughter and a friend.

She turned to look at Mike, who was hovering beside her in ghost form. "How did you know I didn't know where my gravestone was?"

Mike chuckled. "I didn't, not really. But I wanted to make sure you knew that you weren't forgotten. I visit it sometimes, like on your birthday. Your mom does too, by the way. She's still around, and she remembers you fondly."

"Wow," Charlie said disbelievingly. "Don't know how she manages that."

Mike punched her in the arm. "C'mon Charlie-Charlie, you gotta stop getting down on yourself."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Easier said than done." She knelt down beside the tombstone. "It's kind of plain... not sure what I really expected. I didn't think too much about what it might be like. I think I kind of assumed there just wasn't one."

"It's been there this whole time," Mike said softly. "Well... at least you know about it now."

Charlie stood up again and looked at Mike. "Uh..." She rubbed her arm awkwardly. She wasn't sure how to end the interaction. "Thanks. I guess. This was cool of you. Sorry everybody was out of office and it was so hard for you to find me."

"It really wasn't that bad," Mike said. "I'm glad I was here to help when, uh... all that stuff went down."

Charlie slapped her forehead. "I'm so embarrassed."

Mike shrugged, looking amused. "Eh. We all have our cringe moments. You make fun of me for tripping on my shoelaces that one time, I can make fun of you for..." Charlie gave him a death glare, "...actually I'll probably just try not to bring this up."

Charlie looked away. "Well. Nice seeing you again. I guess this is goodbye."

"Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be. I only live like thirty minutes away," Mike said, thumb-pointing vaguely behind himself.

Charlie stared at him.

"What?" Mike asked. "You don't want to be friends with me anymore?"

"No! I mean, I do!" Charlie sighed. "I can't believe this is happening. Don't you want to move on from me? I'm dead."

"Er." Mike held up his hands helplessly. "I mean, from what I understand, you'll only be gone-gone for real once you get over all your angst and pass onto the next life, right? So we can totally still be friends until then."

Charlie looked him over. She still didn't completely believe he was real. The past had haunted her for so long, it seemed weird for something good to finally come out of it, for a friend to come back to her from the worst time of her life.

She spoke softly. "You're really not mad at me?"

"I'm really not."

Charlie relaxed. She smiled. Eugene wasn't mad at her after finding out the truth. Mike wasn't mad at her either. Maybe if they believed she could be better... she really could be. "Okay. Yeah." She looked back up at him. "I guess I'll see you around."

Mike grinned. "Count on it."

#that's the end! Thank you to everyone who read this story to its finish!#I appreciate all of you so much #Underworld Office #Charlie in Underworld #Out of Office #my fanfics #Charlie UWO #Eugene UWO #Luke UWO #Joy UWO #Oliver UWO #Sean UWO #Mike UWO #Charlie's father UWO #tw violence

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