#wille being forced to drink everyone's spit was almost as bad as making me watch that shit

[messrsbyler]

so much could've been avoided if they'd closed those curtains

[alreadyblondenow]

Box of crayons

“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids.”

Pairing: Jaehyun x female!reader Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, angst if you squint, childhood friends to lovers, growing up au, college au, to being married. WC: 3,522k Warnings: mentions of getting bullied during kindergarten, alcohol consumption on a college party, getting drunk, swearing, spitting, oral sex: male and female receiving, slight cum play, overstimulation, fingering, cream pie, unprotected sex, switching positions, smut scene is kind of long. A/N: I just want to post something.

Meant to be. You and Jaehyun are meant to be. But not as lovers, at least not yet. For now, you believe that you and Jaehyun are meant to be best friends.

It all started when you saw him starring at his blank paper, close to tears while other kids are teasing him for not having a box of crayons. You came in bolting and scaring those kids with your wrath and told Jaehyun, “stop being such a loser,” and shared with him your box of crayons.

On the next day, you forgot your colors at home and you felt like such a loser because everyone was busy drawing and coloring their works while you’re stuck with this great idea in your mind for your artwork.

“Stop being such a loser,” Jaehyun said and sat beside you to share his box of colors with you this time.

That was the day you learned, at a very young age, that boxes of crayons that has a hundred colors are meant to be shared. You and Jaehyun became friends starting that day and your friendship became like a box of crayons that you’re willing to share with each other.

As long as you both have some colors left on your box, you’re willing to share and got each other’s back.

Your friendship grew and grew during kindergarten, grade school, and high school. Until your families acknowledged your friendship and thought that maybe someday you’ll end up together. On top of that, you and Jaehyun grew up together and watch each other achieve different kinds of great things. May it be through sports, academics, or your hobbies.

“Hey loser,” you sat beside him during lunch break and distract him from doing his assignment.

“Hey yourself” he smirked and continued writing.

It was a busy day in school, the student body organization was busy the whole week because of prom. And to be honest, you are too, you were busy with your dress and you were busy looking for the perfect tie for Jaehyun. And now, you’re just waiting for him to pop the question and finally ask you to prom, which he will because you’re best friend right? So that made you very excited and giddy.

“What do you think of Yeri?” He asked out of nowhere. Smiling and playing with his pen while waiting for your answer but you already felt nervous.

“Popular- She bullied you when we were kids? Why?” you answered short and cold. And you wonder why the man beside you is smiling like a fool.

“I’m taking her to prom, she said yes. It was yesterday in the library, I talked to her, and went straight to the point. I made her blush like crazy...” he proudly told you the story of how he asked someone else to prom but your ears started ringing and you can't hear anything he says already. Turns out when you were busy looking for the perfect tie for him yesterday, he was busy asking the girl he likes to prom.

Everything shifted after prom, you and Jaehyun stopped talking to each other but he was too busy with his new girlfriend to notice that.

Graduation came and summer took place, you and Jaehyun are going to the same college but now you’re not sure if he still wanted the same thing because rumors are he and Yeri are so in love that they will go to the same college. It's useless to reach out if life will eventually separate you and Jaehyun might as well accept it.

As you enter college and made great new friends, you forgot about Jaehyun and focus on your studies during freshman year. But during the start of your sophomore year and while you were at the library to borrow a few books you bumped into him and were forced to catch up and had coffee for old times sake. He paid for the drinks and snacks, obviously, he was happy to see you but you looked uninterested.

And when he noticed that he’s probably taking too much of your time, he finally started a conversation. “I transferred just this semester and I was actually looking forward to seeing you. How are you?”

“Great- look I have to study and I can’t be out this long, uhm...” you started to gather your stuff and ramble. “Maybe some other time Jae,” you said and left with a fake smile. You almost feel bad about what you did but he can’t just waltz back into your life like he didn’t forget about you the moment he had a girlfriend. Now ex-girlfriend.

And as your college years continue, a catch-up never happened again. Although he tried so many times to take you out, but you always refuse and avoid him with all your might whenever you see him around the campus. He was so consistent with bringing you back to his life but you just don’t care anymore because truth be told you were hurt when he left you. Maybe this is revenge? Maybe not? But one thing is for sure, you got hurt and you hated him for it.

Now that you’re in your senior and everything is very stressful, you decided to go to this party with your friends and you were so unlucky that Jaehyun was there with his set of friends, busy playing beer pong and being loud as fuck. Of course he saw you and it halted his moves, he wanted to come say hi to you or hand you a drink but you will for sure pretend that he is invisible so he didn’t.

The party was fun. Thankfully, there were a lot of snacks and overflowing alcoholic beverages as well as non-alcoholic beverages. And because you suck at drinking games, you were downing tequilas and vodkas the whole night and that’s how you got batshit drunk that Jaehyun found you on the bathroom inside the empty tub, sleeping like a baby with a red cup in your hand.

He knew right then and there that he is responsible for you.

“Y/n, it’s Jae. Can you walk?” he asked while patting your head softly. But you can’t talk right now, so you just shook your head ‘no’ and reached for him. You knew that it’s him and you can hear him perfectly but your brain is not working right and the room can’t stop spinning. And you can’t believe you’re saying this but you’re happy that he’s here to take care of you.

You had this same feeling when you forgot your crayons back then and he came to rescue you from your little situation. He’s the same Jaehyun after all.

He offered to drive you back to your dorm which you accepted without any argument, you could’ve thanked him if only you can talk properly. He was so concerned to you that he cleared the backseat of his car and let you lie there comfortably with his jacket covering your legs. And when he brought you to your dorm safely and in one piece, he can't just leave you sleeping with your dirty clothes and helped you clean yourself with closed eyes. Everything was a challenge for him, especially when he had to close his eyes before he removes your blouse, pants, unclasp your bra and make you wear something comfortable to sleep.

Jaehyun then pats your head softly and told you “I’ll get going then, good night” before he leaves and thankfully, you were quick to stop him and you had enough energy to tell him to stay. He smiled so big and felt so happy that he wanted to scream and jump around your room. But he controlled himself and removed his shoes before he lies beside you in your comfortable bed.

To his shock, you swing your arms around him and pulled him closer to you for a tight embrace that he eventually returned. Caressing your back as he melts to your embrace and enjoys the happiness that he’s feeling right now.

“I’m sorry,” he started and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you. Never hurt me again like that, Jaehyun I swear-“

“Shhh. I will never do that to you again,” he said and hummed a song oh so softly until you fall asleep together and meet in each other’s dreams.

Just as you thought that your friendship will never come back, it did and this time it came back with love. But even though that this time love is around to make you two stick together, you never admitted your feelings to each other. You just let your actions do the talking. From him holding your hand during a scary Netflix movie, to you holding his hand while he drives. It was a simple and comfortable ‘relationship’ and you wish he would make it official.

But during a beautiful rainy day when you and Jaehyun decided to stay at your place and enjoy the cold bed weather together instead of going to the movies... everything suddenly fell into place.  

“Mmm. Feels good” Jaehyun moaned as you concentrate on lining the face mask on his face properly. You’re sitting comfortably on top of him, your legs placed on both of his sides, while he’s leaning on your headboard with closed eyes, feeling so relaxed as you pamper him with skincare.

“Stop moaning, my dorm mates might think we're having sex,” you giggle and rake his hair away from his covered face. Holding it nicely as you lean closer to his chest to enjoy the comfort of being on top of him.

“Comfortable?” he asked and placed his hands on your back and made you lean on him completely. He started caressing your back and his soft touches are making you sleepy. You may not know, but he’s very much in love with you and that he will do everything just to keep you this time. He’s just waiting for the perfect time to admit his feelings to you and make everything official.

“Okay times up,” you excitedly said and started removing the face mask. While wiping his clear and handsome face, you see redness on his cheeks and his ears are turning red. You smiled and let out a giggle because that only means Jaehyun is flustered right now.

“Can you blame me? You’re so close to me and you’re literally on top of my dick. Don’t make fun of me if I get hard,” he said with a shy smile. Eyes turning into crescents and his cute dimples are deeper than ever. So instead of making him shy, you decided to make him nervous by grinding on him slowly but with enough pressure to make him in the mood and hard in no time.

His eyes went big when you rolled your hips once. Then it became even bigger when you rolled your hips a few times again which made him tensed up and hold his breath. “Stop it,” he said, but with a smile, that’s so big. He’s completely aware that you’re teasing him.

“But do you really want me to stop?” you said and put more effort into what you’re doing to him. Grinding slowly and deliciously, rolling your head and parting your lips. But the thing is, you’re not acting anymore. Jaehyun does feel so good right now and you’re liking what you started. And now that you’re letting out small moans, Jaehyun came close to you and caught your lips. Holding your head steady and kissing you like how he always wanted to.

“If you don’t stop now, I’ll really, really, really take advantage of this moment,” he said and went back to kissing you. A mixture of happiness and lust and you both feel like your hearts are about to burst because of what's happening right now. Kissing each other while smiling in between, kissing each other even more deeper by every second. It’s like your kisses were saying, ‘i love you’ ‘no, i love you more’. And as you two are busy with your lips, you felt Jaehyun’s hands slip inside your shirt and draw small circles on your skin while kissing as if he wanted you to lift your shirt but he’s just too shy to tell you. So without any warning, you stopped kissing him only to remove your shirt and remove your bra in front of him.

This may not be Jaehyun’s first time seeing a naked girl in front of him, but you sure did make him shy that he avoided looking at you. Flashing those dimples again, and witnessing his ears turn bright red. Brighter than ever. “Stop being shy and touch me,” you command and put your hand on his nape and reached for his other hand to place it on your shoulder. Giving him the freedom to touch you and roam his hand around your body as you continue to grind your clothed pussy on his hard dick.

Soon his hand finally started to move, touching your boobs first and kneading them slowly and carefully until Jaehyun became comfortable and confident to request that you remove your shorts too. Which you did gladly, so now you’re left with only your panties, kissing Jaehyun on the neck and making the man moan and feel good. Lifting his shirt without any hesitation and exposing his very hot body before your eyes and left kisses on it immediately.

Kisses after kisses you made him weak until you reach his sweat pants and pull it down together with his boxers brief so you can plant kisses on his happy trail, lower abdomen, and finally his hard cock. And there it is again, his handsome dimpled smile that shows his shyness. His cock twitched when your cold hands made contact with his cock, pumping it slowly while you watch him close his eyes and roll his head back. He watched you spit on his cock, and slowly put his whole size in your mouth. Gripping the sheets as he loses his mind, gripping the sheets as he breathes in and out heavily, letting out deep groans and making sweet moans.

“Y/n, s-stop. I’m about to cum,” he pleaded but you didn’t stop. Instead, you moved your head even faster, worked with your tongue, and made sure to never let him forget this moment that his whole cock is in your mouth for the first time.

After a few minutes of pleasure, Jaehyun came into your mouth and you witnessed him shaking and moaning on your bed with a satisfied smile. Still, with a sensitive body, you lay on top of him and teased him from cumming so soon. “You’re dead,” he said and smiled so sweetly at you. Encircling his arms around your body and kissing you a couple of times before he changed places with you. Finally, removing your panties and making you spread your legs for him, holding you with utmost care and kissing you with a mixture of love and lust.

If you tortured him earlier with your trail of kisses on his body, now it’s Jaehyun’s turn to torture you with him kissing your inner thighs oh so softly that it sends tingles straight to your spine and making your legs close automatically. “Uh-uh, I endured everything you did to me earlier,” he said, teasing you before he slides his fingers up and down your slit and finally licking it slowly. Spitting on your cunt just how you spit on his dick earlier and started pleasuring you with his hot tongue. Your hand automatically landed on his head, gripping his soft locks as he licks you slowly and torturing you with that damn wet muscle.

And when he finally made you cum and had his sweet revenge, he kissed you all over your body and put his entire weight on top of you. Letting your nipples brush on his chest and his hand soothe your sensitive body.

It was quiet for a moment, and only your heavy breaths can be heard in your room besides the air conditioning. He nibbles your earlobes and spreads kisses on your neck while slightly grinding his hard cock on your very wet pussy, waiting for you to calm down so he can finally fuck you.

“I was planning to take you out on a proper date first before we go to this stage. You just have to be so impatient, huh?” he shook his head in disbelief and kissed your lips again before he pulls away, putting both his hands on the sides of your head. His cock was very hard that you almost thought it wouldn’t fit, “Don’t worry you’re so wet. It will slide in easily” he said before he told you to line his cock so he can finally push in.

Slowly he stretches you out, rolling his head back and so are his eyes, while you on the other hand grip your boobs knead them as you feel Jaehyun’s cock slide in and out. “Jaehyun, deeper-“ you requested and let out a moan that made him gave in to your request. He adjusts your position, folded your knee before he spreads you open, thrusting deeper than before that his lower abdomen touches yours. Losing your mind whenever you take a peek at the motion of his hips while fucks you, Jaehyun was so hot as he moves his waist and kept his eyes only to you, this time he’s the one making you feel so shy.

“You like it this way? Deep and slow?" you only nod, “Wanna go another round after this?” you smiled and nod again, “Do you love me?”

And then he started thrusting faster and harder that your body was dragged on the mattress, and your boobs are bouncing up and down because of his hard thrust. Jaehyun came close to you for a kiss, still waiting for your answer. Although he knew already that you do love him by the way you kiss him, still he needed to hear it from you. “I want to hear it Y/n,” Jaehyun pleaded again and hold on to your waist tightly as he fucks you harder than before.

“I do Jae- fuck, slow down. Almost there” you croaked but its too late, Jaehyun’s thumb is on your clit, ready to torture you again and make you cum for the second time tonight.

Locking your legs around his waist as you enjoy your high and oversensitivity, you didn’t expect that you’d ask for more and beg for more the moment you hit your high that Jaehyun got more excited that he almost forgot to pull out. And when he did, he came on your pussy lips, watching his cum paint your wet folds and throbbing cunt. Of course the man above you isn’t satisfied with all the torture he did tonight, so he slides his fingers on your cunt, playing with his own cum and finger fucked you to give you another mind blowing orgasm.

The eventful bed weather ended with you and Jaehyun cuddling in your bed with his hands on your thigh and you’re wearing nothing but his black shirt and a pair of panties while he stays handsome and so irresistible in his boxers briefs.

“I promise to love you,” he whispered to you while drawing small and soft circles on your thighs, his eyes never left yours. “I promise to stay even though you’re so stubborn,” he added which made you giggle and happy.

FIVE YEARS LATER

During a very quiet night where Jaehyun’s hands are intertwined with yours and his embrace was tighter than ever because he was really tired from work, Jaehyun was having a cute dream. He dreamt about how you saved him from the bullies back when you were only innocent kids. He was smiling through his dream until he hears a cry. A cry of an infant and opened his eyes immediately. You stopped him from getting up and told him, “I got it Jae, go sleep. You’ve been up the whole day,”

Jaehyun has become a great provider for your small family now. And he was working hard to the bone that he barely gets enough sleep during weekdays. “Thank you,” murmured and closed his hands again. And after you put your babies to sleep again and went back to Jaehyun’s embrace, Jaehyun was deep in his sleep that he’s sleep talking and murmuring sweet nothings, the kind where you only hear whenever you have slow sex.  

“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids. I will buy them boxes of boxes of crayons so bullies will never touch them,”

You giggle and pulled him closer. Hoping that he will ramble more because he’s so cute right now. “I love you,” you said, you weren’t expecting something in return but he responded.

“I just realized I never thanked you for sharing your crayons with me back then, thank you” he said and opened his eyes and went on top of you to kiss you sincerely. His wife. “I love you”  

[kimnjss]

keep going | jjk

⤑  series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: smut!! (and the start of angst at the end...)

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 4.8K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, oral sex (m/f. receiving), handjob, cum shot, face sitting, spitting, grinding, (half-assed) 69-ing, nipple play, groping, dry humping, they’re both half drunk nd messy.

⤑ A/N: hiiii! how are you? sooo ., i decided to make the party two parts bc i had terrible time management today nd it’s getting late - buut i really wanted to post today. sooo part two up tomorrow!!

MAY 8TH, 2020 | 23:30

Jungkook hears your squeal over the booming bass of the music, long before you're appearing through the crowd of drunk partygoers. Jimin is steps behind you, large black glasses resting on the tip of his nose. Eyes likely bloodshot underneath them obvious from the stumble in his walk. Your hair fans out behind you as you run, jumping with a shout onto your boyfriend. Who is more than ready to catch you. Hands splayed over the small of your back, while your legs wrap around his waist.

Giggling, even though nothing's really funny. Cold hands finding his cheeks as your hair creates a curtain on one side of his face. “My baby!” Speaking a bit too loud for how close you are, but he doesn't mind it. Especially since you're quick with covering his mouth with yours. The strong taste of alcohol hitting his tongue as if how drunk you were wasn't already obvious.

The kiss doesn't last long because you're being distracted by your thoughts, lips parting from his, you begin to bounce in his arms. Thighs brushing against his waist and the skirt of your dress riding up the swell of your ass. “Jimin said you got dressed up for me,” You're wearing this pretty smile on your face, cheeks tinted pink and he's not too convinced it's just from the alcohol.

He nods without a bit of hesitation because he had nothing to hide. Wouldn't even be stood here in this outfit if he didn't think you'd find him attractive in it. Another squeal is leaving your lips, legs leaving his body as you jump down out of his grasp. Taking a step back to fully take in his appearance.

“You look good enough to eat,” Moving in close to him, your arms lift to wrap around his neck. Tugging gently so his face is level with yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek as you lean up to reach his ear. “We'll get to that later, though.” A gentle kiss pressed to the outside of it and you're sure you hear a moan leave his lips.

Not dwelling too much on the sound, you pull back, taking his hand in his, leading him into the kitchen where you swear you saw Jimin disappear. Probably in search of smoother drinks to accompany the numerous shots swimming in his stomach. Jimin was quite the drinker and a bit hard to keep up with, either way, you managed without falling over. That was definitely a plus.

Jungkook had been here an hour or two before you showed up. Found Taehyung in the crowd and Yoongi after that, the three of them spending time drinking and talking while he waited for you. Your friends were cool and he was enjoying the music and everything, but at the end of it, he was most looking forward to seeing you... even if he had been with you just the day before.

Shots were passed around and Yoongi had his mind set on getting absolutely trashed, him and everyone within a ten-foot radius. Which had him refilling every single empty glass in sight. Including Jungkook, despite the fact, he was on the far end of the couch. So yeah, not as drunk as you, but definitely heading in that direction.

Who cares, though? It was a party after all.

MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:19

Sat up on the kitchen counter with Jungkook beside you, quietly sipping from his cup while you talk a mile a minute with the guys in the room. Taehyung has taken an interest in Jimin who has made it his entire business to play hard to get. The whole nine yards, honestly, not looking directly at him while he spoke, acting aloof when it was clear to any of your close friends that Tae was enjoying the undivided attention.

Yoongi had gone somewhere a good half hour ago, nothing but a brief mumble of his departure which was drowned out by the music. Hoseok was leaving a few moments after him, loudly declaring he wanted to go dance. Yet, you have yet to see the inevitable circle form around him.

That left Joon and Jin with you and Jungkook, the four of you laughing and talking loudly about something that you'd no doubt forget in the morning. Well, three of you... Jungkook only half listened, the rest of his attention on you. Hadn't taken his eyes off you since he was setting you down on the counter and it was getting a little hard to ignore his stare.

Jungkook was always obvious, hardly ever beat around the bush... especially when it had anything to do with you. So just one look in his direction and you could tell that he was undressing you with his eyes, playing a dirty movie in his mind where the two of you were the stars.

Normally, you'd tease him. Get him all riled up until he was whining, basically begging for some type of release. It was always fun to see how far you could push him, how much you could get away with before he was becoming a mess of himself. 

Strangely tonight, though, you didn't feel like teasing. Wanted him just as much as he wanted you, if not more. And with this liquid courage cruising through your veins, you didn't care if he knew it. You didn't care who knew it. Jin has sparked Joon's argumentative spirit, claiming he was right about something that Joon literally based his entire life on.

It's not often you get to see Joon get riled up, especially in the face of a stranger. But the oddly sexy vein popping out at the side of his neck is very low on your list of concerns. No, your focus is on Jungkook and how you can get him from this room to upstairs a little more private.

“Koo,” His head snaps in your direction in an instant at the sound of your voice, cloudy eyes taking in your outstretched arms. Instantly putting together that you were beckoning him toward you, he doesn't waste a moment to stand in front of you. Palms settling down against the tops of your thighs, the coldness of them forcing goosebumps to rise on your warm skin.

Long legs stretching out to wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. You always wanted him closer. Fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you immediately, hands wrapping around your thighs, using his grip to pull your body toward him. He's hard. Can feel it pressed right against your thigh, a curious hand dropping down his torso until you're able to reach him.

Jungkook flinches at the touch, hips jerking forward and teeth scraping against your lower lip. The subtle pain pulls a moan from your lips that's quickly muffled by the determined twist of his tongue. Hesitant fingers inch underneath the hem of your dress and then back down your thighs, up a little higher, and then back down. His fingers repeat their movement three times before you're pulling away from his lips.

“What are you doing?” Your words come out through a laugh, hands on either side of his face as you look down to watch his fingers on your skin. “I'm just checking...” All slurred and barely coherent, he's not looking at you instead he's tracking the movements of his fingers as if he was in the midst of creating a masterpiece on your legs.

You can't help the laugh that slips past your lips at his focus, fingers racking through his short hair. Pushing the fluffy strands out of the way so you can get a better peak at the look of concentration on his face. “Checking what?”

Dark eyes lift to find yours, teeth catching his lower lip as he searches your features. Looking for any hint that you were uncomfortable. That you wanted him to slow down. Something that you constantly caught him doing if the two of you were moving past a peck. It was sweet, nice of him to always be thinking of you. But it did make you feel fragile like you needed him to look out for you. Never did you like this feeling, but coming from him... it didn't feel so bad.

“How high up you'll let me go this time. Do you want me to stop?” There's a second question hidden in there. He wasn't just talking about his hands on his legs, but rather how far you were willing to go tonight. It's obvious because Jungkook was horrible at hiding what he was thinking, every thought written on his face at all times.

Which is why you're so quick to shake your head, using the hold you have around his waist to pull him further between his legs. His hardening length brushing against the crease of your thighs and you're humming at the feeling of warmth that spreads throughout your body. “Not yet. Keep going,”

That's all he needs to hear and it's like a switch has been flipped inside of him. Whatever restraint he had been using since you first jumped on him going out the window as his hands move higher up your legs, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. His teeth catch your skin, blunt nails dragging their way to your ass and all you're left to do is whine and moan underneath him.

A hand running down the front of his pastel-colored pants to cover his crotch. Fingers flexing around his bulge, shamelessly palming him through his pants in the middle of Yoongi's kitchen. He's letting out a breathy groan, head falling back as his hips move in motion with your hand.

He looks so hot, it's almost unbelievable. Eyes squeeze shut, with his lower lip tucked between his teeth. Thick neck on full display, you can't help but lean up and kiss it. Sucking open-mouthed kisses into his skin, while your hand moves over him. 

“Fuck,” he groans, loud enough for just you to hear. The sound sending a pang of arousal pooling between your legs. “I want to fuck you so bad,” It's a drunken confession that he's barely aware of, his focus on his hands squeezing your ass over the fabric of your dress.

Leaning back enough so your eyes catch his, he's looking at you with such desire and want. A look that you're no stranger to, but it definitely has you feeling a little less out of control tonight. Tilting your head up, you press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back just before his tongue is able to slither past your lips. 

“Wanna go upstairs?”

MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:57

Jungkook takes two steps toward you the moment Yoongi's bedroom door is secured shut. Hands on either side of your face, holding your head steady as he goes in for a kiss. A sloppy rushed kiss that pulls deep groans from his lips. Fingers curling in your hair while his hand drops low on your waist, pulling your body into his.

He's spent long enough holding on to restraint, not wanting to tip the scale in either direction in hopes to keep you from pulling back. Only going as far as you'd let him, but now you were giving him the green light for more. And although, he wasn't sure how much more you were willing to give... he was going to enjoy all he was able to take.

His mouth falls from yours, fingers moving toward the neckline of your dress. The same tiny dress you deemed too tight to wear anything underneath, besides the lace thong that does nothing but look pretty against your skin. With a fluid motion of his hands, your tits are spilling out the top of your dress, nipples peaking from the cool air circulating around the room.

His cock stiffens in his pants at the sight. Trying not to be obvious with the way the sight of your bare chest makes him drool. This was so far from being the first time he's seen boobs, but this was the first time he was seeing yours and that felt like the first time ever. He didn't know what to do with himself. Brain working overtime trying to figure out where to start. He wanted all of you, that much wasn't a secret. But he knew that he had to be careful, this was a privilege of course. A rarity. One wrong move and he fuck it all up for himself. 

The blank stare on his face does nothing for the pounding in your chest. Wishing that he'd just say something instead of staring the way he was. Not even looking directly at you. Did he think they were weird? Were you doing too much? Should you cover up?

Two strong hands wrap around your thighs, lifting your body off of the ground. Finally, finally looking up at you with those dark brown eyes of his. So easy to read, so filled with lust. For you. Long strides taken across the room and before you know it, your body is being surrounded by fluffy sheets and the smell of Yoongi.

“You're so perfect,” He sounds like he's in disbelief, shaking his head at his own words as he climbs onto the bed with you. Your head trapped on either side of his arms, hips pressed flush together. He fit so well between your legs.

Warm lips meet yours, tasting heavily of alcohol and his fruity lip balm. He's swallowing the moan that falls from your lips, tongue pushing against yours as his hips move in a slow rut. Kissing you breathless with his hand wrapped around one of your breasts, thumb flicking against your nipple. So easily pulling moans and whines from your lips with a simple flex of his muscles. “I can't believe I'm with you,” His words murmured against your lips, but your heart is standing at full attention, ready to swell in his favor.

Pulling back only to leave a trail of wet kisses down the length of his neck, mapping his way to your breasts. A breathy cry of his name falls from your lips when his teeth scrape against the hardened nub. Chuckling soft, his eyes lift to meet yours as he wraps his lips around it. Tongue moving just as it had been inside your mouth and you can't help but wonder how it'd feel in other places too.

Always ten steps ahead of you, Jungkook's hand outlines the curve of your breasts all the way down to the dip of your waist, passing your hips until the tips of his fingers catch the hem of your skirt.

He pulls off your chest with a pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lower lip to your skin. His tongue juts out to break it while his gaze lowers to watch himself reveal more and more of your skin with each movement of his hand. It's not long until your entire dress is bunched up at your waist, the maroon thong you had shimmied into on full display for his greedy eyes.

The growing wet patch between your legs is all he can seem to focus on. Jungkook startles you with his quickness, head dropping between your legs in an instant. Arms looping around your thighs to hold them apart, nose nudging against your covered clit as his tongue flattens against your slit.

“Holy fuck!” It's like someone has lit your entire body on fire. Back arched off the bed and toes pressed against the sheets. He's letting out a laugh, the prettiest sound you've ever heard paired with that toothy grin of his. Three gentle kisses are placed right on top where his tongue just had been.

Reaching down to find his soft head of hair, you gently drag his face up away from your sensitive pussy. His nose bumping against yours and his stiff cock resting just above your clit. Much harder than before and you can only guess why. Yet, despite his obvious arousal and his desperate want to continue, he's still able to compose himself enough to ask.

Pressing the softest of kisses to your lips, fingers pushing strands of your hair out of the way. “Keep going?” Silently hoping that you answer in his favor. Pretty much over the moon when you're nodding, hips lifting to meet his. It's his turn to curse, teeth cutting into his lip to keep from being too loud.

Kind of hard with the way you were grinding against him. Even through your useless panties, his boxers, and pants, he could feel you. How warm you were, wet too. So sure that his fingers would slip right in. How many would you actually be able to take? Just one? Two? Maybe three?

Had to be at least three if you expected to take his dick after. Never one to brag, but Jungkook was a decent size. Thick in the places that it mattered most, long enough to boost his confidence. Definitely took pride in the way your eyes would go wide when seeing it. Were you thinking about it too? Him fucking you.

“Yn, fuck.” He's hissing through clenched teeth, only now noticing the work you've done at the front of his pants. Buttons undone and fly wide open, your warm hand down the front of his briefs to fish out his throbbing length. It only grows harder in your soft grip, twitching at the brush of cool air.

It takes two of your small hands to cover him, the pink mushroom tip peaking out from your closed fists. Hands twisting in opposite directions and he doesn't even hesitate to fuck into the hole you've created. Eyes fluttering as breathy moans fall from his lips, heavy balls slapping against your covered pussy.

Jungkook's got a firm grip on your breast, the other hand clutching the bunched up fabric of your dress. Head bowed as he watches his cock disappear and reappear between your hands. He has no shame in the fact he's imagining it's you he's fucking. That he's being squeezed by the tightness of your walls. Imagining that you're reaching your limit too, instead of him selfishly getting his release. Every single time.

He loses it when you're sitting up, spitting into the palm of your hand to create a much wetter slip for his cock. Hands tightening around him and moving at a much faster pace. He's gasping and groaning, fucking forward as if he's buried inside of you. And you're close too, it makes him feel a lot better about the loud way he spills his load onto your stomach.

Warm and sticky against your clammy skin, you're lifting a hand off of him to dip your fingers into the mess. He watches the way you drag through it, bringing your index finger up to your mouth. “Oh, God.” He groans, earning a pretty giggle from you. His mouth is on yours again within an instant, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue rolls around the inside of your mouth.

Tasting himself on your tongue and that just makes him want you more. “Please let me taste you.” His eyes still feel heavy and his body too, but that's the least bit of his concern. He wants to make you feel good. It's only fair, with the way you're constantly catering to him. You deserved it. “Please,”

Not even worried about sounding desperate or even whiny, he just wants you. He wants you to want him. And you do. Have wanted him since the first time you met him if you're honest. Tonight all of that was only amplified, a mixture of the alcohol and the realization of how quickly you had fallen for him.

Didn't even realize it was happening until it was done. Jungkook was quickly becoming it for you. Not a day went by where he wasn't on your mind, yearning to see him, to talk to him, to kiss him. Needy in ways that were nearly foreign to you. Always so good at keeping it together, but when it came to him you just couldn't.

And you didn't really want to either.

“Okay,” His face breaks into this huge smile and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips. “Okay?” He has to check, make sure that he's hearing you right. And when the sound of your laugh fills his ears, followed by another confirmation he's almost ready to jump for joy.

Springing up, he's shrugging his shirt off. Wiping the drying cum from your stomach as a true gentleman would. Tossing the dirty fabric to the side, he's shifting to lay on his back before you're stopping him. “Take this one off too,” Reaching for the sleeve of his undershirt and he doesn't waste a moment before tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side.

He's moving to lay on his back before you're allowed the proper time to admire his well worked on chest. The ripples in his stomach that can only be accomplished with hours upon hours in the gym. His head lifts to find you sat up in the same spot, this quizzical look on his face which you return with a laugh.

“Come sit on my face,” He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, reaching out for your wrist, to gently drag you toward him. Your eyes are saucers, cheeks flushed at the thought of being sat up on him like that. “Why?” It's obvious to the both of you why, but you wait for his answer anyway.

His shoulders lift in a slight shrug, lips stretching into a slow sexy smile. “I've always wanted you to sit on my face,” He's so calm about it too as if he didn't just admit to the dirty secret thoughts that bounce around his head when the two of you are alone. You're so inclined to give this man whatever he wants that you don't bother to fight it anymore, simply lifting yourself up to stand over his head.

Taking in the way he's smiling up at you like a kid on Christmas, arms looped around your legs to help you lower yourself onto him. The tips of his fingers latch onto the waistband of your panties, tugging them far enough down your legs so he's getting a good look at your bare pussy.

Lips glistening with your arousal, slightly puffy from the bit of stimulation. There's a small patch a hair above it, trimmed into a neat triangle. Almost like an arrow saying: Jungkook's mouth goes here. And he's forever one to follow a sign. With his arms looped around your thighs, he's lowering you comfortably over him. He lands an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, using the grip he holds on your thighs to hold your body still.

Gasping, your hips jerk, body lunging forward to brace yourself on his stomach. “Fucking cute,” He murmurs into your pussy, head tilting to the side so his tongue can reach deeper inside of you. Paying close attention to the sounds of your whines to make sure that you're enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

Much sweeter than he had thought, arousal dripping down the sides of his lips. You've got a tight grip in his hair, hips moving in stuttered thrusts against his mouth. A hand pressed onto his stomach, nails scraping against the skin. He's cautious with introducing his fingers to the mix, teasing your hole slowly before he's pushing one in. Cock stiffening at the loud wail that leaves your lips, legs spreading wider for him.

It's never felt this good. Not when you're alone with your own hand down there. His is much longer, thicker. Reaching deeper inside than you ever could. With lips latched around your clit and a single finger fucking inside of you, Jungkook's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your moans being the welcome bell.

His tongue moving around your clit in quick circles and he swears he feels your walls clench around his fingers. So wound up, it's not long before you're nearing your end. And he takes the chance by pushing another finger alongside the first one, much tighter and harder to move but the sound that leaves your lips eggs him on.

“Shit, baby...” He pants against you, the warmth of your hand around his shaft making him lose focus. You stroke him lazily, barely able to keep your head up with the way he's making you feel. But you manage, tongue poking out to roll against the tip. His whines vibrate against your pussy and throughout your entire body, forcing an involuntary roll of your hips.

Fingers plunging deeper inside of you as his hips lift, cock brushing against your lips at the same time he's curling his fingers. Pressing against the rough patch that has you spiraling out of control, hips bucking against his face and grip tightening in his hair. “Jungkook, fuck! I'm...” Pretty much delirious at this point because he has no interest in letting up, determined to knock you over the edge if it's the last thing he does.

A string of curses leaves your lips. Sloppy kisses landing on his length, a failed attempt to muffle them. All at once you're feeling pressure build and snap in the pit of your stomach, a wave of heat washing over you. Your legs shake on either side of his head, loud cries of his name and incoherent sentences falling from your lips.

Jungkook holds you steady through all of it, the movement of his tongue slowly as you come down. Lips puckering to plant a gentle kiss to your lips, just as your body is falling limp against his. Slowly pulling his fingers from inside of you, he doesn't waste a moment with sucking your juices from them, humming contently at the taste.

“So sweet,”

Shifting in his hold, you move to sit on his lap. His nose, mouth, and chin are shiny with your arousal, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded, hair a knotted mess. He looks absolutely fucked out and it's so hot. Lowering yourself, your mouth is finding his, tongue plunging into his mouth as you lower your body. The tip of his cock nudging against your clit, forcing a moan from your lips.

All it would take is a certain angle of your hips and he'd be sinking inside of you. Stealing away your virginity with a single thrust of his hips. You wanted that so bad. With him. Only him. “Jungkook.” Sighing his name out, his cock twitches between your legs. And from the way his eyes go wide, you can tell he's just noticed how close you actually were. 

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Kookie,” There's slight whine in your voice, but you don't care how desperate you sound. You've never wanted something this bad. Felt it in your chest, your stomach, your core. You wanted him.

He doesn't say anything for a while, eyes scanning over your features for a little longer than you'd like. Before he's letting out a soft sigh, his hand reaching up to push his hair back on his head. Sitting up with you in his lap, his hand lifting to wipe at the wetness around his lips. “Fuck, princess. Not tonight. Not yet,” Two large hands set on your shoulders, he's offering up an apologetic smile.

A pout is already forming on your lips. You can't help it, your brows just seem to automatically furrow and your lip pushes out. “Why not?” His hand is lifting to pat your hair, head tilting up to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Because, when I fuck you... I'm gonna fuck you.” You'd think he was explaining the cuteness of puppies with the way he was looking at you. The tone he was using. “And you've been drinking. I need to make sure you remember every second,” His fingers rub against your scalp lightly before he's going in for another kiss.

Not even a moment is granted for the sting of rejection to settle in. The moment he's pulling away and gently nudging you off of his lap to redress, there's a loud knock on the door and you're becoming all too aware of the party that was still going on downstairs. A loud crash follows the knock and you can hear shouts from two very familiar voices.

And then another, much harder knock. Joon's voice sounding from the other side. Hurriedly explaining all the commotion going on downstairs. 

“Hoseok and Yoongi are fighting!”

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

⤪ masterlist ⤨

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

[seongsangi]

kiss and tell

pairing: jeno x reader

summary: just how long do you think you can keep your relationship with jeno a secret?

word count: 2k

warnings: fuck buddies, dom jeno, manhandling (bc look at him, how could you not let him throw you around?)

You were invited over to the boys’ place for movie night, but Jeno is hellbent on being a little shit. You haven’t seen them all in a while, giving each of them a hug as you walk in. Jeno’s hands fall a little too low on your backside, grabbing a handful of your ass when no one is looking. You can feel his gaze on you ever since you stepped in, quite literally eye fucking you. His sneaky hands wrap around your waist when you’re the only one in the kitchen, whispering in your ear how good you look tonight. You quickly swat his hands away, looking over his shoulder in case someone saw.

 “What are you doing?” you asked in a hushed tone, his hand smoothing over your thigh. Ever since you started your fuck buddy relationship with him, he’s been pushing it when you’re around the boys, almost like he wants them to know. You’re against it. It’s between you and him, you don’t feel like you owe anyone anything. Your hands grip the counter as he presses closer to you, lifting your leg to hold it against his waist. He leans in close to your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin. His deep voice sends tingles down your spine, “What, you worried about them? Sorry princess, I can’t help it when you walk in here looking like that.”

Ah, you want to push him away but his lips are making your mind hazy, holding you close enough to feel his bulge on your clothed sex. He presses a few more kisses to your neck, getting lost in your scent. “Jeno, hurry up with the drinks!” Haechan yells from the living room. He pulls away from you without a word, grabbing some soju out of the fridge and giving you a wink before he walks off. Jeno is such a little shit.

 During the movie, you get a text from your friend that makes you jump out of your seat on the couch. “Fucking shit!!” you yell, everyone turning their heads at you for the sudden outburst.

 “What, what’s wrong?” Jaemin is quick to ask.

 “Oh my godddd, I’m screwed.” You turn to look at Jeno, panic settling on your face. He’s concerned now, asking you what happened. “I forgot our exam was due tonight!!”

 The boys let out a sigh of relief, worried that it was something more serious. “This is serious, I literally forgot I had an exam!”

 “How do you forget you have a whole ass exam?” you throw a pillow at Haechan who isn’t helping the situation at all.

 You’re tugging on Jeno’s hand, asking him to please help you cheat since he’s the only one in the same class as you. He gets up from his seat, leading you to his room so you can use his laptop. Ugh, you could kiss him right now.

 The exam is monitored, meaning you have to turn your webcam on, so Jeno stays out of view of the camera but close enough to still see the screen. You know most of the answers, but there are a few Jeno helps out on by quietly whispering so the microphone doesn’t pick it up.

 You finish the exam just in time before it’s due, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thanks for helping,” you stand up from the desk chair to give him a simple peck, but he’s quick to cup your face in both hands and deepen the kiss. Your hands grab onto his waist, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Your lips mold together perfectly, getting drunk on the taste of each other. He moves you to sit on the edge of the desk as his hand slides underneath your shirt. He pushes your bra up, kneading your breasts and playing with your nipples.

 “But they’re right outside,” you try to protest but truthfully, the feeling of his hands roaming your body is too good.

 “They won’t know if you just be quiet,” leaving kisses down your neck. He pulls your shirt all the way up, diving into your chest. You brace yourself on one hand as the other grabs Jeno’s hair, pushing your chest further into his mouth. He litters your chest with kisses, sucking on your mounds and licking them until you squirm under his touch. He bites particularly hard, a squeal leaving your lips at the sensation. Jeno soothes his tongue over it, doing it on purpose just to hear your reaction.

 “How can I be quiet if you’re gonna be like that?” you huff, sounding very bratty.

 “Don’t talk to me like that,” Jeno narrows his eyes at you, lifting you off the desk with ease and throwing you on the bed. You let out a squeal, a smile forming on your lips because you love it when he’s rough with you. He grabs your legs, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your ass up high. He wastes no time in pulling your shorts down to your knees, sliding his fingers along your slit. He loves how wet you get for him, always making a mess on his hand. “All for me, princess?” you bury your head in the sheets, grabbing hold of them as he moves his digits in and out of you, curling them to hit your spot. You’re biting your lips hard, trying not to be loud but finding it hard when he’s working your body so well.

 Jeno takes a mental image of you on your knees for him, head down ass up just the way he likes it. He loves that you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, knowing you enjoy when he’s in control of your body. He pulls his fingers out of you, taking his sweats off and sliding his tip along your slit, wet enough to slide in with ease.

 He leans down, pressing kisses to your back, lightly grazing your skin with his teeth. His voice is now in your ear, the deep husky sound of his words making you all the more desperate for him. “Want me to fuck you?” Jeno is such a little shit, asking you a question he damn well knows the answer to. You wiggle your hips, asking him nicely because he loves to hear you beg for him. He holds your hips steady, filling you up like he’s done plenty of times before. You gasp, the stretch making you lose your mind no matter how many times he fucks you.

“Oh shit, you’re so big,” you whine quietly. Jeno is watching where your bodies connect, moving in and out of you slowly. “You’re so tight baby,” the grip your walls have on him makes his hips stutter. You have the same effect on him as he does on you, both of you wild for each other.

 “Harder,” you want more of him, arching your back even more.

 He roughly yanks your head up, warm breath fanning your ear. “Say please,” he growls, tightening his grip on your hair.

 “Please please please,” you’re so needy for him to fuck you into the bed. He pushes you back down again, throwing you around like a ragdoll and you love it. He grabs your hands, holding them behind your back and pushing you into the bed to keep your ass high. The arch in your back is deliciously painful, made even better because you know he’s always ready and willing to ruin you.

 Jeno snaps his hips into yours, hitting you so deep it almost hurts. You can’t keep quiet any more, letting a few moans slip from your mouth. He’s pounding into you with such force, your legs are about to give out. He grabs the back of your neck, pushing your face into the mattress. “Shut up, you don’t wanna get caught right?” You whimper at his words, no you don’t want them to hear but how can you control yourself?

 “Or maybe you do. Maybe you want them to know how good I’m fucking you,” you can just hear the grin in his voice. Jeno quickly pulls out, maneuvering your bodies so that you’re now on top. “You want it so bad, do it yourself.” He rests his hands behind his head, staring you down, waiting for your next move.

 You lean down to take him in your mouth, spitting on his dick to get it wet. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you take him as far down your throat as you can, parting his lips in a quiet gasp. The sight of you with your mouth full of him is something he wants to see everyday. You bob your head on him, making sure to use as much tongue as you can. Sitting back up, you straddle his hips and position him at your entrance. Resting your hands on his chest, you sink down on his member, quickly setting a pace with your hips. You clench around him as you bounce on his dick, eliciting a groan from the feeling of your tight walls. He just can’t get enough of you.

 With half-lidded eyes, Jeno watches you use him to get off. Your body on top of his looks absolutely amazing, he could stay like this forever. Your perfect tits are just begging to be sucked, running his hands up your sides and pinching your nipples. He pulls you down, latching onto your breasts. He grabs handfuls of your ass, wishing he could spank you until you’re red with his handprints but that would be too much noise. He sighs, furrowing his brows in pleasure as you clench your walls while moving up and down his length. “If you don’t stop doing that,” he growls against your nipple, earning a sly smile from you.

 Jeno quickly props his feet up on the bed, slamming his hips up into yours and taking control. “Oh fuck!” you yell, the sudden attack catching you off guard. He stops immediately, slapping a hand over your mouth and pulling your face down towards his. “I’m starting to think you really want them to know.” You quickly shake your head no, begging him with your eyes to keep fucking you. “Then shut the fuck up.”

 His hand wraps around your throat, his other hand leaving your hair to hold your waist. You cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the sound of your moans as he finds his pace again, bucking his hips deep into you. “You like it when I fuck you?” his dark eyes stare into yours, squeezing your throat a bit tighter. He’s gonna be the death of you.

 You nod your head as best you can with his hand around your throat. His lips curl into a smirk, which you find so sexy on him. “Yeah, I know you do baby, just look at you.”

 You move your hand away from your mouth, capturing his lips in a kiss to suppress your whines. The stretch of him is blowing your mind and you can’t keep up with his movements. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp on his lips. He reaches in between your bodies, stimulating your bundle of nerves to help you finish. “Wanna see you cum all over me.” 

 You bury your face in his neck, letting your high wash over you. Jeno slows his hips down, guiding you through it. Your body quivers on top of his, his arms holding you in place. He never fails to make you feel on cloud nine.

 Before you can fully recover, Jeno switches positions again and lays you on your back. “I’m not done yet,” holding your legs wide open as he slides back in, chasing his own release. His hips are relentless, making you cover your mouth again as he uses you like his personal fuck toy. You clench your walls around him, making him bite his lip at how tight you are. A few more thrusts and he pulls out, pumping himself quickly. Without a word, you get on your knees.

 “Cum on my face, pretty please Jeno?” you plead, sticking your tongue out for him.

 “Fuuuck,” he moans, painting your face with his warm load. You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around it and swallowing what you can.

 By the time you and Jeno make it back to the living room, the movie is already over.

 “How was the exam?” Jaemin asks.

 “Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” taking your seat on the couch again as Jeno heads to the kitchen.

 An awkward silence follows as Renjun searches for another movie to watch.

 “So, are we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room?” Haechan cocks an eyebrow at you, eyes darting to Jeno’s body in the kitchen and back to you.

 Ah shit, you knew this would happen. “Sorry boys, I don’t kiss and tell.”

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with fushiguro megumi

Sushiguro is here lads! To do what? Simp! How much? Badly! When? Now! Femme pronouns purely so I can use the term ‘big sis’

TW: blood(but it’s very brief), drinking too

First meeting

When Fushiguro came to Tokyo Tech, he knew there’d be other students there, older than him and his same age

He went into the school with no particular intention of dating any of his classmates, or really dating anyone to be honest

But then, why does he find a third year so cute? He wasn’t here for any of that, it wasn’t Rupauls best friend race!

He hasn’t even said a word to you and you’re already capturing his heart, and really all you’re doing is talking to Inumaki and the other second years, laughing with them and just hanging out before any lessons start

He doesn’t realize he’s scowling and glaring right at you in his attempts to figure out his feelings until you come up to him with an annoyed look on your face

“Hey, any reason you’re fucking staring at me like that?” You spit, one hand on your hip and the other pointing at him.

“What?” He says it harder than he wants to, his brows raising up slightly. He was staring at you? You seemed mad too, what was he supposed to do? 

“Sorry.” The answer must not have been good enough for you because you let out a grunt.

“That’s all you have to say, you little creep?”

“(Y/N), don’t get so worked up.” Maki tries to calm you down, but you push her away.

“No, I wanna know why he was staring at me like that. Do you have a problem with me, first year? We’ve never even met before, so what’s your deal?”

Shit. Shit this was really bad and only getting worse.

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

“Well you did, so explain yourself.” You reply immediately, scaring him more. Crossing your arms over your chest, you cock your head to the side. “Well? You gonna answer or what?”

How was he supposed to explain that he was looking at you because he thought you were pretty and he wanted to talk to you but he was too nervous?

“I uh-” Clearing his throat, Megumi’s eyes bounced to his upperclassmen. None of them were trying to calm you down anymore and they actually seemed a little scared themselves.

“Speak up.” Snapping your fingers at him, you got closer, almost bursting Megumi’s personal bubble.

“You’re pretty.” He squeaks out, flinching at the way you raise your eyebrow. “Woah!” With one sweep of your legs he’s sent tumbling to the ground and onto his back.

“Fuck off and stay away from me, you weirdo.” Stepping on his stomach, you walk on top of him and out of sight to the dorms. Megumi lays there, staring at the sky in silence with his hands clutching his abdomen.

“Sorry about (Y/N), she can be a little testy.” He’s being helped up by Panda, with Inumaki standing just off to the side.

“(Y/N).” He says your name quietly, looking at the place you’d just disappeared to. Royally fucking up your first meeting, he’d have to fix your relationship with him sooner rather than later.

First hangout

After that fateful day, Fushiguro doesn’t see much of you because, you’re actively avoiding him

And when he does see you, you always make the comment that your day just got ten times worse from just having him in your vicinity

It hurt to have you say those things, especially because Fushiguros crush on you hadn’t diminished at all

He saw the way you were with others and it made him yearn to be a part of that

He’s also gotten his ass beat a few more times for somehow always being caught staring at you and Gojo laughs every time, even video taped it to laugh at later

The only time you actually hang around him - and not of your own accord - is before the goodwill event with Kyoto. Since you’re not allowed to participate, you’ve been tasked with helping him train

And it’s not going very well...could this even be considered a hangout?

“That makes five, shitty-guro.” It’s the fifth time you’ve knocked him into the dirt with just your fists. It’s in Megumi's mouth, the taste of the dirt, and he feels its grit between his teeth. His arms shake hard as he forces himself up to all fours and then to his feet.

“O-one more time.” There’s a cut above his eye that’s started to trickle blood into his line of sight and he hastily wipes it off. Fighting you reminds him of his fight with Todo, how overwhelming it was to be on the receiving end of the onslaught of attacks.

“Really? You must have a fucking pain kink or something, sicko.” Spitting on the ground, you roll your neck and take your stance, fists in front of you and feet spread apart. “But let’s see what you got.”

Megumi doesn’t think when he comes after you this time. Before, he’d tried to make calculated moves that would all just end in his defeat. You were either too quick for him to execute them or you’d already thought two steps ahead and dodged.

As your fist just barely misses breaking his nose, Megumi does manage to tackle you onto the ground. There’s a brief tumble and he can’t exactly make odds or ends of the world, but he rolls you on the ground and manages to pin your arms and legs to your side.

“Ha...I did it.” It’s all he can think to say, stupidity flashing across his brain at how dumb he sounds. You wiggle underneath him, quickly giving up and settling onto the dirt.

“Okay so hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me you fucking moron, you’ve barely landed any punches on me this whole time.” Rolling your eyes, you turn your face to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. “Go ahead.” Picking up his fist, Megumi looks at it and at you. It’s true, he’d barely striked you, only landing a few punches by lucky chance.

“I-I can’t.” At least not like this. Although he wasn’t one to believe in pulling punches or going easy during training, he didn’t want to hurt you like that, particularly with you down like this.

“Well I can.”

“Huh?” It happened again, a move he wasn’t prepared for. Arching your back hard, your leg swings up, pushing him up your body but also nailing him in the back of the head with your foot. He lurches forward, part of his leg hitting you in the face.

He’s face down ass up in the air, once again tasting the dirt underneath him. You don’t miss the opportunity to kick him in the ass and make his face drag across the dirt before falling over completely.

“What the hell…” Looking up at the sky in wonder, his face stings from being rubbed so hard, and he sits up slowly. His vision is swimming, but he can see you holding your nose and tilting your head back, blood dripping on your hands.

“You couldn’t punch me in the face, but at least you managed to do some damage.” Your voice is funny with your nose blocked. Scrambling to his feet, Megumi pulls out a handkerchief he has and holds it out to you.

“Here, use this.” You squint at him, eyeing him up with scrutiny. Taking the cloth from him, you lower your head a little and take your hand away. Megumi watches the cloth quickly become crimson, soaked with your blood.

“Thanks shitty-guro.” Turning your back on him, you shrug your shoulder and begin to walk away. “Don’t expect this back, I don’t want you harvesting my DNA to make some weird sex doll clone.” Your words make him chuckle despite the harsh tone you gave them. Megumi stays where he is for a little bit to collect himself before taking a break himself, watching you laugh at seeing Nobara swung around by Panda.

First confession

Fushiguro Megumi had to be completely psycho, because after that training day his mind runs even more rampant with thoughts of you

You stop avoiding him as much now, you still don’t speak directly to him most of the time but if you have to you take the seat next to him if it’s the only one available

But Megumi doesn’t get to fantasize about you as much anymore since you’ve gone ahead and graduated and left him behind(how rude)

Now that he’s in his third year, he’s better at controlling his emotions and whatnot

So when you come around to the school to chat with Gojo or he sees you on missions, he doesn’t stare like he used to and he can have a barely decent conversation with you

And for some increasingly annoying reason, you and Itadori have taken a great liking to each other

It’s like a sibling relationship, Itadori looks at you with sparkling eyes and calls you ‘big sis (Y/N)’, the two of you text each other quite frequently and you’re always willing to put an arm around his shoulder when the two of you are hanging out

“You what?” Megumi stops dead in his tracks in the dorm building hall, utterly stunned by what Itadori just said.

“Hm, you didn’t hear me? I said I have a crush on big sis (Y/N), I want to confess to her.” Itadori says it so plainly that it sounds simple enough. And it really is, he knows Itadori won’t beat around the bush with this, and that’s what makes it that much worse.

“You can’t.” Megumi says before he can help himself.

“Why not?” Now Itadori is looking at him in confusion.

“Be-because I-” It’s too embarrassing to admit outloud. He hasn’t told anyone about his crush on you, it was a secret he’d take to the grave. But that doesn’t mean other people didn’t take notice, he could tell people knew(everyone knew) but they never brought it up.

“Don’t tell me you like big sis too!” With a gasp, Itadori narrows his eyes at Megumi. With a burning face, Megumi nods yes, shame washing over him. “You can’t, she doesn’t even like you.”

“I know!” Throwing his head back, Megumi slams his forehead into the nearest wall and groans loudly. “Believe me, I know.”

“Seriously, this is what you called me here for, Kugisaki?” A fit of giggles erupts behind him and Megumi whips his head to the side, mouth wide open in shock at seeing you and Nobara behind him, a disgusted look on your face while Nobara is laughing.

“Mhmm!” She’s busy trying to hold her laughter in and failing at it.

“Big sis!” Itadori waltzes right up to you and hugs you, receiving a few firm pats on the back. “I don’t really like you like that, Nobara just wanted to see if Fushiguro would admit to his crush on you or not.”

“Don’t worry, I caught on.” Ruffling his hair, you release him from the hug. Sauntering up to Megumi, you flick him in the forehead. “I always knew you were a freak, a little pain freak.” Flicking him again, you sigh and take a step back. “Well since I’m here let’s watch a movie or something, give ol’ shitty-guro a break for once, looks like he needs one.”

“Awesome!” Itadori is already rushing to prepare his room for guests.

“Big sis, will you order takeout from that one place?” Nobara asks, grabbing your hand excitedly.

“Geez, you guys are gonna bleed me dry!” You gripe, and then a sick smile crosses your face. “Good thing I kept Gojos credit card info from the last time he made me order food.”

“Woo!” Bouncing on her heels, Nobara is already rattling off the things she wants to order.

“Let’s go shitty-guro.” Catching him by the collar, you drag him down the hall and to Itadori’s room.

First date

After accidentally confessing, Fushiguro actually feels better now that you know

You don’t immediately start to treat him differently, but the edge in your voice when you speak to him is softer now, less defensive than it used to be

And he was finally able to explain that all those years ago, he had been staring at you because he really did think you were pretty

There’s no time that you hang out together just the two of you, Itadori and Nobara are always around chirping about ‘big sis (Y/N)’ and hanging around

It’s only when there’s an ‘accidental’ mixup in schedules and the both of you end up together at korean bbq, conveniently with Itadori and Nobara both not answering their phones

“Do those idiots really think I don’t know what they’re doing?” You huff across the table, arms crossed and eyes scanning the room. Leaning back in your chair, you can see Megumi pointedly avoiding looking at you.

“We can go if you want.” He says, eyes still trained on the barbecue in the middle of the table. You sigh heavily and Megumi closes his eyes, ready for you to leave almost immediately.

“Nah it’s whatever, we’re here now might as well make the most of it.” Picking up a menu, you point at him with it. “Order whatever you want, big sis (Y/N) will pay for it.”

“Y-you’re not my big sis.” Megumi mumbles as he picks up his menu, instantly regretting what he said.

“No? Then what am I to you?” Your smirk tells him all he needs to know. You want to hear him say it again, confess his feelings and blush like an idiot. And with the way his cheeks were currently burning, you were already halfway there.

“You know what I mean.”

“Hm? I don’t think I do.” Now planting your elbows on the table, you grinned like a fool. “What are you saying, shitty-guro? Do you want me to be more than that?” If you weren’t in public, Megumi would have yelled from embarrassment. But he didn’t get the chance to do anything, as there were two guys approaching your table.

“Can I help you?” Your smile instantly dropped, expression turning as cold as ice as you glared at the two of them. They looked closer to your age, maybe a few years older, with more muscles than Megumi could ever hope to pack onto his lean frame.

“We saw you from our table and were wondering if you wanted to join us? We got plenty of booze and food.” Their attempts at picking you up were laughable, and you did just that, letting out a snort and waving them away.

“Not interested.” Flipping a page on your menu, you go to point at something and talk to Megumi when one of them puts a hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon, ditch your little brother and co- fuck!” Snatching their hand off you, you nearly broke their fingers with how hard you bent them backwards.

“Listen you fucking creeps.” Standing up, you twisted the arm of the man that had touched you. “I’m just trying to enjoy this dumb little date, eat some dumb food and then go the fuck home.”

“Okay! Okay!” He sobbed. The whole restaurant was looking at you now, shock written all over their faces.

“It better be okay, because I won’t hesitate to break your fucking kneecaps if you so much as look at either of us.” Pushing the man away, you let out a huff of air and sat back down.

“So…” Megumi muttered as the two men scrambled away.

“What? Don’t tell me you think I went too far, you know I don’t care.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” Wringing his fingers together, Megumi looked at you with a shy grin. “You said we’re on a date?” Your brows shot up in surprise, nearly disappearing into your hairline. That’s right, you’d called it a date. He could see you working over the words you wanted to say, and chuckled when you dropped your head in shame.

“Yeah, maybe I’ve come to like you too. It helps that you stopped being a damn creep and grew up.” Covering your face with your hand, you laughed bashfully. “Yeah, shitty-guro, I got a bit of a crush on you too.” Laughing again, you raised your head and were met with his pink tinged cheeks and shocked mouth.

“Really?” He wasn’t easily stupefied, but hearing you confess to liking him was something he never thought would happen. He didn’t even think you considered him a friend, let alone a love interest.

“Yup.” Taking a drink of your water, you calmed your racing heart. Megumi copied your actions, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I guess I should stop calling you shitty-guro, huh? Megumi?”

“Ach-” He was instantly choking on his water, spitting some of it out onto the table and his lap as he forced his head down. Nearly falling from his chair, his whole face was scarlet and he felt lightheaded. You’d always referred to him by that mean nickname or just his plain last name. Hearing you say his first name made him panic.

“Jeez maybe I won’t say it if this’ll be your reaction every time.” You teased, throwing napkins at him. While he was busy cleaning up, you ordered for the two of you and handed the menus away.

“No! No, you can keep saying it, I was just surprised.” Coughing out the last remnants of water, Megumi straightened up and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Alright, Megumi.” Saying his name a little sweeter just to tease him, you thanked the waiter when they brought a couple bottles of soju to the table. “Let’s have fun on this date.”

First kiss

Megumi was sure he had alcohol poisoning that night after getting back to the dorms

Who knew one person could drink so much? He also quickly learned that his tolerance for alcohol was quite low, given the many times he threw up in an alleyway while waiting for Ijichi to come and get him

He didn’t need to worry about you stumbling home, by the time he had left you were already climbing into a cab

The next day, he had the worst - and his first - hangover and was incapacitated the whole day, unable to move unless it was to throw up or drag himself to the bathroom

Nobara and Itadori had to make sure he wasn’t actually dead most of the time

When you texted him and asked if he wanted to join a karaoke session with Itadori and Nobara, he almost said no, remembering how your last hangout ended

But he said yes, not wanting to pass on the opportunity, especially considering that you messaged him first

“Woo, big sis!” Nobara cheers as you and Itadori scream some dumb song you barely know the words to, hanging off each other like drunken fools. And you are, or at least Itadori is. You’d supplied the alcohol, the same as the one you’d drank with Megumi earlier, and it was clear to see that it had an effect on everyone around.

“God I’m so bad at singing!” You laugh loudly and breathlessly once the song is over, collapsing right next to Megumi on the couch. Your head had landed near his and he could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks; you weren’t outright drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“Itadori, we’re doing this song!” Nobara hops up, taking the microphone you’d left on the table and standing with Itadori near the TV screen.

“Megumi, drink up.” Flicking the cup in his hand, you take note that it’s still nearly as full as when you first mixed it for him.

“No thanks, I don’t think I can drink after last time.” You laugh at him, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder at his serious tone.

“Really, I scarred you that badly?” Your forehead lands on your hand and Megumi can feel you shaking with every drunken laugh that you let out. He nods, not that you’re paying attention to see. Carefully, he puts the cup down on the table so you don’t accidentally spill it.

“I thought I was going to die.” He says, and it makes you laugh even harder. Trying to sit up properly, your body feels heavier than before and you don’t nearly use enough strength, and you end up falling onto him. “Oh!” Megumi quickly wraps his arms around you to keep you from rolling off the couch, and part of your leg is on top of his.

“Sorry gumi, guess I’m a little drunker than I thought!” That nickname was new, making Megumi’s face flush with painful heat.

“I-it’s okay.” Curtly nodding, he tries to avoid how close your faces actually are to each other. You’re close enough that he could kiss you without moving too much, your breath fanning across his lips and your forehead nearly bumping into his, your head bobbing as you try to keep yourself upright.

“Gumi, we should kiss right now.” Your statement makes a strangled noise come out of his throat, and Megumi takes a quick look at the other two in the room. They’re busy singing and trying to outdo each other on high notes.

“I-”

“Do you want to?” Planting a firm hand into the couch cushions, you push away from him slightly. “It’s okay if you don’t, I won’t pressure you.” You’re already moving away without giving him time to decide.

“I do!” He nearly shouts, slapping a hand on your shoulder to stop you from moving.

“We can wait, it’s fine.” Nodding to yourself, neither you nor Megumi are ready for his next move. Without thinking, he pushes his lips onto yours, tasting the alcohol still fresh on your tongue. He’s clumsy for his first time, unsure of what to do but closing his eyes all the same.

Your hand comes up to rest on his thigh, pushing yourself closer to him. Your mouth opens slightly, tongue coming out to brush his lips and he opens immediately. He can really taste the alcohol now, feeling like he was getting drunk just from the kiss.

“Woo! Big sis (Y/N)! Big sis (Y/N)!” Nobara and Itadori have stopped singing and are now cheering for you as you make out with their best friend and classmate. Letting them go on for a few more seconds, you pull away laughing.

“Will you two shut up?! You’re killing the mood!”

“We are the mood!” Itadori counters, and he dodges the TV remote you throw at him.

“Yeah, this is a big accomplishment!” Nobara grins. The two of them are swaying on their feet, obviously heavily intoxicated and loving every minute of it.

“God.” Slapping your forehead, you turn back to Megumi. “This is the last time I’m giving you guys liquor.”

[phoenixkadeu]

petrol blues.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Love. Love is the warmest colour. Petrol blues.

the faintest of sounds assaulted the fire elementalist’s ears, a distant sound that was begging him to grasp onto reality. calloused hands tapped his bruised skin, released him of the shackles they had forced upon him but he had yet to realize that.

blue orbs moved beneath the skin of his eyelids, lost in a state between dreamless sleep and the harsh reality. it was a blessing, a short lived one as he finally opened his eyes, he looked at the woman above him, barely had time to analyze her features before deciding to close his eyes again.

nothing on his body ached despite having just endured one of the worst fights he had ever been involved in, his mind was still too confused to remember anything. he had no idea who that woman was and for a second he had even forgot who he was, all the memories of what had just happened were gone from his mind.

“asra, I’m gonna slap you hard if you don’t open your eyes again, I’m not joking” the voice was harsh, gifted him a headache and some clarity. tanya had counted ten dead bodies after  she had arrived, but she was sure there were more, she knew what this meant, it worried her, but there were other matters to take care of, more important ones.

“I swear you brat - ” and before the palm of her hand could collide with his face, he opened his eyes again, wide. “What happened? Did they take her?” the older questioned and the memories lost on asra’s mind came flooding back. 

a lit cigarette rests between his lips, hands deep in his pockets as his feet carry him through the familiar narrow streets of his neighbourhood. it does not bother him anymore the lack of children playing outside or the lack of sound that came from vivid bits of conversation shared between neighbours, most had taken refuge in the inside of their own homes only coming outside if necessary.

what asra did not know is that the calm he had been feeling was close to an end. he takes a turn, someone grabs onto his jacket from behind, his cigarette falls to the ground as he turns around quickly, one hand reaching out to grasp onto one of the other’s arm as his other hand immediately goes for the throat.

“ah fuck, you scared me, man. sorry” asra retreats his hands from the old man, apologizing even though he feels like his reaction was well placed. this man had been around since asra was born, always greeting him and his family everytime they passed in front of his house, asra had no idea how old he was but considering everyone knew him it was not hard to guess.

“you have to go home, kid, they came knocking on our doors minutes ago, took our food, punched some of us who wanted to fight or refused to do as they wanted” the words were hurried and quiet, asra had to crouch down a bit in order to understand the old man and as he did, wrinkled hands gripped him by the lapels of his jacket, pulled him until they were almost touching foreheads and then all of asra’s world crumbled down. “they are looking for water elementalists, someone told them your mother’s name, they know she’s been helping. they are going to take your mother, boy, hurry up!” asra was pushed, almost fell down in a stupor, the man ran back to his house away from any prying eyes and away from asra’s sight.

and then asra ran, did not look back even once, the only sound that echoed in the neighbourhood were his footsteps and his steady breathing. he did not have any time to think about whether those words were true or not, he could do that later, he was only focused on getting to his house.

once he was close enough he saw a group of men outside, the front door to his house had been kicked down and before he could react he saw two men coming from the inside, presenting a calm demeanor as they spoke with the rest of the group. asra did not stay for the rest, he knew his parents were not home and there was only one place left for them to be.

his father’s tavern.

asra opened the door in a rush, snow coming in through the open door. his mother was behind the bar, towel in hand as she cleaned some glasses, his father sitting in one of the bar stools calmly talking about something until asra’s sudden appearance made them stop what they were doing.

“you have to get out of here, now” he pointed at his mother, offered no explanation as he approached them. palms met the clean surface of the bar countertop, he pushed himself up until he was able to swing his body above it, landing beside his mother. his hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her backwards, but his mother was having none of it, her hands reached out to grip his face in a warm embrace.

“please, talk to me, what is happening?” this time her sweet tone was not enough to make him calm down, his chest felt heavy as he looked into her blue eyes, hands leaving her shoulders to grasp her hands, pulling them away from his face. asra had painted that frown on her face but he had no time to apologize.

“you have to leave, those fuckers snitched on you after you had nearly killed yourself just to help them and now someone is coming for you, I’m not sure who but you have to leave” he did not shout, did not even appear angry, but that all changed once his mother decided to reply.

“oh. is that all, dear? that’s fine” her lips stretched into a soft smile, kind eyes staring back at him. “it’s no surprise, so you have to let me go, I don’t want any of you getting hurt, alright?”

asra looked back at his father, gave him a pleading look. he knew his mother could not fight in the condition she was now, still weak, still recovering from exhaustion and that was one of the reasons why he could not sit still and let them take her, who knew what they would do with her? he would not sacrifice his own mother just so she could be a part of their little games.

his father gave him a nod, looked at his wife and said “we’re sorry” asra saw the way her face twisted, desperation evident on her face as her own son pushed her into the pantry, locking her from outside. 

suddenly there were two loud banging noises, one coming from his mother who was calling out their names, begging from them to let her out and let her go and one coming from the front door. his father reached for behind the counter and pulled a ridiculous long knife. 

asra waited behind his father. the sounds coming from outside got louder, drowned out the hoarse screams coming from his mother and after a few minutes the door feel to the ground in a loud thud, a group of men came in uninvited. asra looked at them and shouted, “hey there, you guys want a drink?”

everything was going well. sure he had basically burned the entirety of his father’s tavern, but he did not care, there was something bad inside of him and it had just came out to play. he could not see anything beyond those men, their faces, their weapons and how willing they were to die just to get to his mother.

his father had taken down three man, before one finally got to him. he did not call out for his son, simply accepted his own fate because he knew that asra would take care of it, he would give his life if it meant that his child and his wife were safe.

asra had killed more people than he could count, too lost on his task to notice the almost fatal blows his father had suffered. he was sure someone had called for more men because the amount of them seemed infinite, every time asra turned around there were more.

but then the only person who could make him stop appeared, the one asra was protecting and simultaneously the one kol’s men had been looking for. 

“asra stop!” her fingers were bloody, her face drowning in her tears as she crouched down beside her husband, clutched onto his clothes desperately. it threw asra off, gave them the opportunity to grab him, shackles surrounded his ankles before pulling them, making him fall to the ground, his head hitting the side of a table in the process.

this is what she wanted to prevent, the savagery that clubs were known for. she wished she had the time to explain herself better before they got attacked, she wished she had the time to come up with a plan that did not end up with her losing her family. she was not afraid of fighting back, she was not afraid of what would happen to her if she ended up being taken, she was afraid of this.

“look at your father!” and asra looked, blamed himself for not paying attention to the one that was fighting beside him. he struggled against the chains around his ankles and wrists as he watched them pull his mother away from his father.

“don’t touch her!” he shouted, tears burning his eyes as he trashed around until someone pulled him by the hair so he could stand on his knees. everything ceased once he felt something covering his mouth, angry eyes widening once he understood what it was.

“these fuckers can spit fire too did you know?” the one behind asra spoke, he heard some other laugh and in that moment asra swore once he got out of here he would kill every single one of them.

“yeah, we should warn kol about these traitors” kol. the ace of clubs. the responsible for all of this. “you just chose the wrong side, don’t make us come back to finish you” 

Unfortunately these men were the one’s who had chosen the wrong person to mess with and as they hit asra across the head, his last thought was that he was gonna throw this whole territory upside down until he found his mother.

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (1/?)

I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while now and I’m still not sure how I feel about it (I kind of feel like it’s crap lol). Let me know if I should continue! 

Summary:  Outside of Barden, Chloe’s life is harder than she would like to admit. When she’s at school she gets to forget all about problems, she gets to be normal. She doesn’t like to let people know about her life outside Barden, with the exception of her best friend Aubrey. Then she meets Beca Mitchell, and somehow she becomes the second exception. Will Beca be the answer Chloe has been looking for?

Read Below or on AO3/FF

“Our Sorrows and Wounds Are Healed Only When We Touch Them With Compassion” – Buddha

May 2012, End of Chloe’s Junior Year

Chloe watches sadly as Aubrey packs up her bags, her side of their shared room in the Bella house looking dreadfully empty. Their last day of classes was yesterday and all the girls in the house are working hard to pack.

Aubrey and Chloe are going to be the only Bellas left next year, so Aubrey is moving all of her stuff from their shared room to the room across the hall. Leaving Chloe feeling even more empty than she already is.

“You sure you don’t want to come home with me this summer?” Aubrey offers one more time, her eyes soft and sympathetic, because she knows, she’s the only one who knows.

Chloe shakes her head, “No I’ll be fine here. It’ll give me a chance to clean this house up before next year anyways. The other girls aren’t exactly cleaning up their mess.”

“Ok, but if you change your mind…the offer stands,” Aubrey zips up her last bag of clothes, standing up to survey the damage.

Going home with Aubrey for the summer actually sounds amazing, but Chloe feels bad. She feels like she would be imposing. Aubrey’s home isn’t the happiest most days with her dad gone 90% of the time, so she doesn’t want to cut into the little family time they’ll have.

Chloe stopped going home over summer after her freshmen year. Her mom has only gotten worse in the last 6 years, making her near to impossible to be around. Not to mention the endless stream of men in and out of their house. Her brother Jake isn’t an option either, with him being on the road for his job most days. Which leaves her with her only other option, staying on campus all summer.

“I appreciate it,” Chloe thanks her best friend quietly, knowing she won’t take her up on her offer.

“Have you talked to her lately?” she immediately knows who Aubrey is talking about.

Chloe shakes her head, “No. I know nothing has changed…she knows I won’t come home unless she gets her shit together.”

“I’m sorry it has to be that way,” Aubrey reaches a hand out and places it on her shoulder.

“Yea me too.”

************

September 2005

Chloe watches grimly as her mom polishes off her second beer of the morning. There’s an empty case next to her recliner in the living room, providing an awful memory of the night before. She had been angry, angrier than Chloe ever remembers her being. Chloe locked herself in her room and hadn’t come out until this morning.

“Mom,” she tries to keep her voice steady and strong, but it still quivers betrayingly, “the funeral is in an hour…are you going to be ready?”

“I’ll be ready,” she replies flatly, tossing her empty bottle into the recycle bin.

“Grandma and grandpa are coming to pick me up,” Chloe clarifies.

It sounds awful, but she doesn’t trust her mom not to be drunk. She doesn’t want to ride in a car with her. Chloe would drive the both of them, but she only has her temporary license. She’s not 16 until next year.

“They could take you too,” she offers quietly.

Her mom shakes her head, “I’ll be fine to drive myself…I could drive you too.”

“Um that’s ok,” she shifts anxiously between her two feet, “just be careful.”

Her mom gives her a dark stare, before cracking open another beer. She always liked a drink, but it was something that never got in the way of her life. It never got in the way until her dad died. The day the call came that he had been in a car accident and most likely wasn’t going to make it, her mom just lost it. She hasn’t been the same since. Well, neither has Chloe.

Chloe and her dad were so close. She always got along better with him than her mom. A part of her died that day and she’ll never get it back. The only other person in the world who gets her like her dad, is her older brother Jake. Jake is in college across the country, so Chloe rarely sees him. He flew into town yesterday, but after assessing the situation, he refused to stay at the house, checking himself into a hotel instead. Chloe almost hates him a little for it, for leaving her here with their mom. Regardless of her feelings about him chickening out, she’s aching to see him. Chloe just needs a hug; she needs to talk to him. She needs someone else around her, someone other than her drunk mother.

Chloe’s still worried about her mom driving, so she throws a last-ditch effort at her, “I could see if Jake could come pick you up?”

Her mom scoffs loudly, “He didn’t even want to come home, what makes you think he’s going to pick me up.”

She’s clearly not winning this one, “Ok, well I’m going to go put my dress on before grandpa gets here.”

************

The funeral is just as painful as Chloe had assumed it would be. It makes it real, she’s really saying goodbye to her dad. She’s really left here with her mom.

Chloe’s not sure her mom will ever pull it back together and that scares her. She smelled like a 12 pack of miller light when she got to the church. As person after person walks up to her to give their condolences, Chloe cringes. She knows they can smell it too, it’s embarrassing.

“You going to be ok with her Chlo?” Jake walks up to her, the two standing side by side watching as their childhood pastor talks to their inebriated mother.

Chloe sighs deeply, “I’m going to have to be, someone needs to watch after her. I’m worried Jake.”

“I am too,” Jake runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “you know I’m only a phone call away though.”

“Like you can do anything to actually help though, you didn’t even stay at the house last night,” Chloe replies bitterly.

“I’m sorry about that,” he shuffles his feet nervously, “I couldn’t bear to watch the train wreck…I should have been there.”

“Dad would want someone to make sure she’s ok,” Chloe swallows back tears as she says it, “I have to stay with her.”

“He loved you so much Chloe, he’d want you to be safe and happy.”

Chloe knows that’s true, but in three years she’ll be in college. She has an out, she owes it to her dad to hang in there.

“I’ll be fine,” she forces a smile at her brother.

Jake pulls her into a tight hug, “Love you Chlo.”

“I love you too Jake,” she mumbles into his shoulder, willing her tears to not escape.

************

September 2012, Chloe’s Senior Year

“I can see your toner through those jeans!” Aubrey barks out into the mostly empty practice space.

Chloe cringes internally. She likes Beca…ok she also likes Beca. Something about the little alt girl drew her in right away. She’s not sure if it was the sass she dished back to them at the activities fair, or when she had an impromptu duet with her in the shower. Maybe it was her audition, where she blew everyone away with a simple song and a yellow cup. Chloe can’t put her finger on it, but she can’t seem to shake the brunette from her mind.

And Beca is talented. Aubrey has such a grudge against her she can’t even stop to see it. They desperately needed talent, especially after last years explosive ICCAs finals. The two of them had a hard enough time getting the girls they did, it’s a miracle they got someone as talented as Beca. Even if it took a little coercing from Chloe.

“That’s my dick,” Beca spits back, before turning on her heels to leave.

The response rips a quiet chuckle from the back of Chloe’s throat, but she manages to conceal it before Aubrey turns around. The blonde is red in the face, her hands shaking slightly.

“You don’t have to be so hard on her you know,” Chloe knows she’s playing with fire by saying something like that to her best friend right now.

She can practically see the flames roaring in her pupils as she turns to look at her, “Yes I do Chloe. She has an attitude and no respect for authority. Do you want any shot at finals this year?”

Of course she does, she’s not going to deny that, so she nods.

“That’s what I thought, so don’t question my methods,” Aubrey retorts quickly.

Ever since the year started, and Aubrey and Chloe took over the Bellas, there has been a certain bite to Aubrey that Chloe has never seen before. This isn’t the Aubrey Chloe knows, she’s starting to think she never knew her at all.

“I’ve got to get going Bree, I’ve got homework to do,” Chloe grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

Aubrey is staring intently at the white board in front of her, wiping away some of the marks she made on their master plan, “Ok, see you back at the house.”

Chloe rushes out of the building, hoping that maybe she can still catch up to Beca. She wants to apologize, wants to make sure the other girl is ok. Chloe doesn’t want Beca to quit over this incident, for some selfish and not so selfish reasons.

Luckily, Beca is leaning against a large tree right outside the building, large headphones covering her ears, her face looking down at her phone. Chloe stalks quickly over to her. As she gets closer, Beca’s head snaps up, immediately making eye contact with her.

“Hey Beca,” Chloe chirps, as the younger girl slides her headphones down around her neck.

“Hi,” Beca replies cautiously, like she’s not sure what Chloe is here for.

“I’m sorry about Aubrey, she’s been extra control freak lately, that wasn’t cool of her to accuse you like that,” Chloe is quick to get her apology out, Beca doesn’t look like she would want to beat around the bush.

“I appreciate the apology,” relief washes over Chloe, that is until Beca continues to talk, “but that’s a really dumb rule. I’m not even sure I’m into Jesse, but I should be able to be with him…if I was.”

Chloe sighs, “I know it’s dumb…and if you really do like Jesse, I wont say anything to Aubrey. I’m pretty sure Bumper and Fat Amy have something going anyways.”

Beca wrinkles her nose, her mouth turning downward, “Oh uh wow…didn’t see that one coming.”

“Me either,” Chloe laughs.

“Thank you, I don’t see anything happening with Jesse, but still, thank you,” Beca says sincerely, before starting to slide her headphones back up.

This must be Chloe’s cue to leave, “Ok, well I’ll see you around!”

Beca nods, “Yea, see ya.”

************

Chloe wakes up the next morning with an ache in her heart and a sour taste in her mouth. She rolls over groggily and sees the date on the calendar above her desk.

September 14th. The anniversary of her dad’s death.

The hardest day of the year for her. Much like years gone by, she just wants to get the day over with. Go to class, go to practice, come home and go to bed. Tomorrow will be a better day.

“Miss you dad,” Chloe mumbles, clutching the locket around her neck.

The locket was a gift from Jake, a year after the death. There’s a picture of her dad inside. She hasn’t taken it off since the day she got it.

Chloe eventually manages to pull herself from bed and start her day. She goes to class, she tries hard to pay attention. She goes to practice and sings and dances like she means it. Inside though, she feels like she’s barely there. Her body is present but her mind is miles away.

None of the other girls seem to pick up on her mood, except for Aubrey…and surprisingly…Beca. She catches a few sympathetic glares, but Beca’s are more worried, presumably because she has no clue what has Chloe under the weather.

So, she’s almost not surprised when practice is over and Beca hangs around until it’s just the two of them left. Just as she’s about to leave, Beca walks over to her.

“Hey Chloe,” Beca pulls the straps of her backpack tight against her, “are you ok?”

Chloe nods and gives her a small smile, “Yea, I’m fine.”

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine, you kind of seemed really distant today,” Beca shrugs.

Beca clearly isn’t going to let it go, normally Chloe would jump on the opportunity to share with the younger girl, but she’d rather not share. But something in Beca’s expression lets her know that she’s not going to drop it.

“Um well, I guess I’m just kind of depressed today,” Chloe answers her as vaguely as she can.

“Why?” Beca immediately fires the question back.

Beca has never seemed to care much about any of the other girls like this. It has her wondering why she’s pushing so hard. Maybe her little apology yesterday spoke to Beca louder than she thought.

Chloe sighs quietly before answering, “Today is the anniversary of my dad’s death.”

“Oh god, wow,” Beca casts her gaze to the floor, “Chloe I’m really sorry.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be better tomorrow,” Chloe tries to reassure her.

The two stand in awkward silence, while Beca shifts around uncomfortably. This is Chloe’s cue to leave.

Before she can even consider walking past her, Beca puts a hand out, “Um, I don’t know if this would make things worse…or if you’d just prefer to be alone, but would you want to grab dinner with me? Or we could just go back to my dorm for a while and just chill, we could order take out. My roommate is going to be gone tonight and I thought maybe it would take your mind off things?”

Normally Chloe would prefer to spend her day in her bed and not move until tomorrow. But even under the circumstances, she doesn’t want to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with Beca and maybe get to know her better. Something tells her that spending some time with the other girl really would make her feel better.

“Sure, that would be great,” Chloe grins and Beca looks shocked that she said yes.

“Ok, cool,” Beca leads the way out of the building and towards her dorm.

“Do you like Chinese?” Chloe asks as they walk through the crisp autumn air.

Beca nods excitedly, “I love it.”

“I know a great place we could order from.”

Being with Beca already has her calmer. She’s not sure if it’s because of how much she likes her, or if it’s just the girl’s presence in general. Something about her puts all of Chloe’s anxiety behind her, it helps her forget why she was even sad today. Which makes her almost feel guilty, but she knows this is what her dad would want for her.

One thing is solidified in her mind now. Beca Mitchell is special and Chloe would be a fool to let her slip away.

[sickfic-with-kiko]

Hi! Could you please write a fic with a stomach bug Tsukki and a panicking Yama? Love your fics so much!

got any tsukki whump?            

Tsukishima wakes up feeling awful. It takes him a few seconds to figure out what type of awful it is, and he realises it’s sick person awful. His stomach feels queasy and crampy, and he debates whether to suck it up or stay at home. 

It takes ten more seconds for him to realise he has a biology test in fifth period. Risking his grade isn’t an option, seeing as science isn’t a strength of his. With a groan, he pushes himself up and places a hand on his stomach. 

“Morning, Tsukki!” 

Yamaguchi’s peppy voice greets him, and Tsukishima gives a nod of acknowledgement. “Good morning,” he murmurs, walking to school in the least painful way possible. 

“I heard Hinata failed his English test again…” Yamaguchi sighs. At the start of the school year, Yamaguchi would have laughed. But now that he’s formed a bond with Hinata, he’s genuinely concerned. Tsukishima knows how Yamaguchi works. 

“It shouldn’t be that hard if he had just studied,” Tsukishima replies, grimacing through the wave of pain. 

Yamaguchi shrugs. “But some people just find it hard to study, you know? Some people can’t get high grades even if they try.” He glances at Tsukishima’s hand, floating above his abdomen. “Uh, Tsukki, you okay?”

Tsukishima’s head snaps up. “What? I’m fine. Let’s go to class.” His shoulders heave with an irritated huff, and manages to get Yamaguchi to stop vocalizing his worry. 

The discomfort in his stomach only changes for the worse, throughout the day. When two classes are over, he’s fighting back burps that rise to his throat and cramps that wrack his entire abdomen. He’s getting sicker. 

He stops to think of a reason why it’s happening. He hadn’t eaten anything weird, or forgotten to wash his hands. A stomach bug seemed to fit the description. 

"You're not gonna eat?" 

Yamaguchi asks, nibbling his own food. Tsukishima shakes his head. He picks at the rice and pushes it around with his chopsticks, but doesn’t manage to really eat anything. His stomach has decided that every piece of food is revolting to him right now. 

It’s only a few more classes. Tsukishima decides he’ll skip practice for today. The team can manage without him, and the third years would send him home if they knew he was sick, anyway. 

All he has to endure now, is the biology test. 

Tsukishima stares at the key terms in his notebook, cramming the information into his head one last time. His stomach twists even worse when he attempts to focus on the tiny lettering. Reading makes him feel motion sick. 

“Okay, everyone. Put your books away.” Nakamura-sensei begins to hand out the sheets, and Tsukishima swallows hard. It’s only for twenty minutes. He can do this. He’s been dealing with the discomfort all day. 

As Tsukishima begins to fill the answers into the boxes provided, the roiling cramps evolve into something more sinister. His stomach gives a suspicious lurch, and the room feels awfully hot. 

By the time he’s halfway through the test, he’s struggling to hold down the sick-sounding noises from his throat. Despite the lack of food in his system, his stomach feels bloated and stiff. His fist curls and uncurls from the pain. 

An unproductive heave catches him off-guard, and he almost panics. The nausea worsens exponentially, breath catching in his throat. He’s going to throw up, sooner or later. 

Ten minutes left. Tsukishima rubs at his stomach with a frown, willing the queasiness to go away. A hiccup pushes out of his mouth, and something heavy shifts in his chest. 

His eyes start to water, and his mouth is heavy with spit. Just as he contemplates whether to put his hand up and run to the bathroom, the bell rings and ends the class. 

Before anyone can talk to him, Tsukishima bolts out of the classroom, hand clamped over his mouth. 

A rush of liquid rises up his throat, and Tsukishima holds down a gag as he walks hastily into one of the stalls. With a loud gag, he brings up what little breakfast and lunch he’d consumed. When he heaves for the second time, the dinner he’d eaten the day before splashes beneath him. 

Tears of exertion swell in his eyes. Guttural retches escape his throat, and the clench in his stomach hurts so bad he almost keels over. Tsukishima absolutely refuses to let his face or hands go anywhere near the toilet bowl, even as he’s expelling his stomach contents violently. 

The food isn’t even digested properly. Its consistency is chunky, and it sticks in his throat until he coughs it out. The sight gets to him before the smell does. He’s not awarded a full inhale, before he gags painfully, scraping his throat. 

“Oh shit- oh god, okay, okay. It’s okay. I knew it. You’re sick.” 

A hand is on Tsukishima’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he spits out a foul-coloured glob into the toilet bowl. A string of spit hangs from his mouth, dripping past his lips. 

Yamaguchi presses some tissues to Tsukishima’s mouth, wiping the refuse off his lips and chin. He removes his glasses carefully, dabbing at his swollen eyes. 

“Come on.” Yamaguchi holds him up, flushing the toilet. “Let’s go to the infirmary. Can you stand?”

Tsukishima nods, shaking. Yamaguchi takes off his own jacket and places it onto his shoulders. It has a comforting scent, from his childhood. 

Yamaguchi slides the infirmary door open, looking around for the nurse. “Excuse me? My friend’s not feeling well. Can he rest here?”

The nurse comes out from behind one of the curtains, making her way over to them. “What happened? You look really pale.” 

Tsukishima slumps down on one of the beds, clutching his aching stomach. “I threw up just now. My stomach hurts and I just feel exhausted.” 

“There’s a stomach bug making the rounds lately.” The nurse hands him a bottle of pocari sweat, kept at room temperature. “Since you’ve already vomited once, I need to call your parents. Both of you, stay there for a bit.”

Tsukishima’s day is going absolutely awful. He doesn’t even have the energy to sit up anymore. He slips off his shoes and lies down on the bed, breaths ragged and painful. 

“You do really look sick.” Yamaguchi opens the bottle of pocari sweat. “Drink something, Tsukki. You need to replace the water in your body.”

Tsukishima’s mouth tastes awful. He reluctantly takes the bottle and gulps down the sweet-tasting liquid, throat moving up and down with each swallow. He’s under the covers, and he’s still shivering. He can barely talk. 

“Today is a shit day,” Tsukishima murmurs, and Yamaguchi pats his head like he’s ten years younger than him. But it’s comforting, so he doesn’t complain. 

He closes his eyes, hoping to get some rest while he can. Once he gets home, he can be left alone to suffer on his own. His head sinks into the pillow, and his limbs relax under the blankets. 

All of a sudden, his eyes flutter open. 

“Is something wrong?” Yamaguchi asks, when Tsukishima lifts his head and shudders. “Are you feeling sick?”

Tsukishima doesn’t even have the energy to open his mouth. The nausea is rising right up to his throat, without any warning. A gag swells up his cheeks, and Yamaguchi notices the signs of imminent disaster. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure we can…” Yamaguchi grabs a plastic bag from nearby, shoving it under Tsukishima’s chin. It’s see-through, but also the only receptacle closely available. 

An awful-sounding retch rips out of Tsukishima’s throat, burning with a vengeance. With almost nothing left to be sick with, the heaves are more forceful, coming from deep inside his stomach. His stomach is sensitive and sore, with one movement setting off waves of coiled-up pain.

A small amount of green-tinted liquid pools at the bottom of the bag, weighing it down. The humiliation of being watched as he’s emptying his stomach burns in his cheeks. Yamaguchi surely thinks of him as a disgusting person now. 

Three or four more heaves later, Tsukishima’s stomach calms down enough for him to sip on the pocari sweat again. Yamaguchi is the one who holds it to his lips, without doing so much as frowning. 

“...Sorry. I know I’m gross right now.” Tsukishima murmurs, coughing into his palm. He feels better after throwing up, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll last before he’s bent over in pain again. 

Yamaguchi glares at him softly. “This isn’t anything, Tsukki. We’re friends, it happens sometimes. Don’t apologize.” He snickers. “Besides, you’ve had your worse moments.” 

“Have not.” Tsukishima is glad he isn’t the type go blush easily. 

“Trust me, you have.”

Tsukishima grunts weakly, sitting up as the nurse comes back. Relief floods him, when he realises he can go home. 

“Tsukishima-kun, you can go home now. Your parents are here.”

Yamaguchi holds his hand out to him, to help him stand up on his feet. “Get well soon! I’ll fill you in on studies, so don’t worry!” He gives him a quick hug, knowing he’s not in the position to refuse it. 

A smile almost pulls up on his face. Instead, he scrunches up his nose. “I hope I won’t have to put up with this shit any longer than a day.”

[sunlightdances]

Don’t Go Changing

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Author: Katie @sunlightdances Rating: T for language and angst. Summary: It was never supposed to end up like this. You find out the truth about Dean Winchester. Disclaimer: I don’t own Dean or Supernatural. I do own the plot! Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (wattpad, AO3, fanfic.net, etc.) without my written permission!

.

.

Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the look on your face when you surprise him at the motel where he and Sam are seconds away from performing an exorcism, not even if he lives to be one hundred years old.

Shock, confusion, and horror as you back away, the demon tied to a chair in the middle of the room trying to play victim, even shedding a few tears and begging you to help her.

Sam curses and basically shoves you out the door, Dean a step behind, pulling the door shut behind him. You’re already back in the parking lot, and he can see your hands shaking from where he’s frozen by the door.

All he can think is that he can’t let you leave, he can’t let this happen. Not with you.

“Wait!” Dean yells, following you out of the hotel room at a jog, but you keep walking, like you don’t hear him, or don’t care. He’s not sure which one hurts worse. “Wait.” He says again, hand closing on your elbow, and he’s sure his desperation is written all over his face.

“Get away from me.” You say, voice breaking.

“Honey--”

You stop, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare--” You stop, fists clenching, and he watches as you force yourself to take a deep breath. “Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything. Let me go.”

He lets go immediately, regret and shame and self-hatred burning through his veins. “Please…”

“I should call the police.”

“I can explain everything, just give me a chance--”

“Why?!” You yell, shoving at him, and Dean’s distantly aware of Sam there in the doorway, his face full of panic. “I wanted to surprise you,” you spit, “Because you’ve been working -- what a crock of shit -- and I saw the car…” You trail off. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Please. Just-- I want to explain this to you but I also need to make sure you’re safe. And I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me.”

The pain on your face makes him burn. He swore to himself he’d never do this to you - that he’d never hurt you, and that he’d find a way to tell you who he was, what he was. He never wanted it to happen like this.

He watches you hesitate, watches your eyes lose a little bit of their fire, and it gives him the break he needs to soften, his shoulders slumping in relief and defeat all wrapped into one.

“I need you to stay with me while we do this--” He turns towards his brother, “Sam, finish it. Now.”

“While you do this-- Dean--”

“Please.” He looks back at you. “Wait for Sam and then I promise you can tell me to fuck off and never see me again if that’s what you want.” His voice cracks. “You already think I’m a liar so let’s add insane to the list, okay?” Dean says opening the trunk of his car and grabbing a bag, beginning to pour salt on the cement. “I need you to stand here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just-- please.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can protest, a scream comes from inside the motel, and Dean grabs your wrist, bodily yanking you inside the circle with him. You watch in disbelief as black smoke comes pouring out of one of the windows, and circles briefly in the air before taking off like a shot.

He’s too focused on you, too focused on making sure that nothing happens to you that he doesn’t register it immediately when you shove him away, your foot kicking the salt as you take two giant steps backwards.

He sees it all over your face - you think he’s insane, or a serial killer, or-- he’s seen this look before. It’s just never hurt this bad when he’s recognized it in other people.

“I can’t do this.”

Dean says your name, hand reaching for you before he can stop himself. “Please, just--”

“No, Dean. No.” Your own voice cracks, and he sees the tears slip down your cheeks before you wipe them away, the sight of you crying because of him being the thing that makes him break, the lump in his throat swelling until he can’t control it anymore, his own eyes welling up.

He lets you go.

He can see you’re scared and he doesn’t want to push you, no matter how much his heart is screaming for him to go after you.

He hears Sam’s footsteps coming to stand next to him as they watch you drive away.

“Are you--”

“I’m fine.” Dean says, clearing his throat, wiping away the few tears he’s allowed to escape. “She’s gone.”

Sam doesn’t say anything. Dean’s grateful, because he doesn’t-- can’t -- talk about it. You. Sam knows about you, vaguely. Knows there’s been a girl in town that he’s been spending time with, someone he cares about.

“You should go find her.”

Dean laughs, but it’s bitter, not a trace of humor in his tone. “Are you fucking serious? She-- she thinks we’re--” he stops, seeing the look on your face in the back of his brain once more. “She probably called the cops. And I don’t blame her. We need to get out of here.”

Sam doesn’t argue, and Dean is back inside the room before he does something stupid like go after you.

Because he should have known this was how it was going to end.

He isn’t meant to be with someone like you.

He’s starting to think he’s not meant to be with anyone at all.

.

.

.

He’s nursing his third bourbon when he sees someone sit at the stool next to him out of the corner of his eye. He’s about to tell them to fuck off when he turns, and the sight of you, disheveled and still a little sad, almost knocks him on his ass.

His says your name as a breathless plea, for what he’s not sure. Forgiveness? Understanding? He has no idea.

“I saw the car,” you say, frowning. “I hope you’re not planning on driving home.”

He just stares at you. Thinks he might be hallucinating. He has no idea what to say, or where to start. There’s so much unsaid between the two of you.

“I saw Sam in town,” you explain, slowly, as if talking to a child. “He told me I should talk to you, hear you out.”

Dean snorts, looking down at his drink. “Finding it hard to believe you just took his advice, sweetheart.”

“He had the same kicked puppy look you have right now, so that pretty much made up my mind for me.” You say with a sheepish smile. “Look, I have a thousand questions. Everything inside me is telling me to get out of here and never look back.”

Dean wonders if you can hear his heart cracking in half.

“But I can’t do that.” You add, and Dean practically gets whiplash for how fast he looks up at you. “Can we-- can we go somewhere? To talk?”

Dean’s heart is in his throat, so he just nods. “I can’t drive, but the Impala--”

“Yeah. We can go there.” You finish for him, and Dean’s on his feet before you can change your mind, throwing a handful of bills on the bartop.

He sticks close to you on the way out, eyes darting around like he thinks every stupid monster they hunt down is suddenly going to be after you now that you know the truth. He’s paranoid to a fault, has to be, but forces himself back to the moment, to concentrate on you.

He’s drunk, but he needs to get this right, if he can.

He fumbles with the keys as he unlocks the doors, and holds the passenger door open for you, watching as you slide in like you’ve done it a thousand times before. He walks around to the other side, and the silence when he shuts his door is almost deafening.

“I don’t know where to start.” He admits.

“Can you just-- just tell me the truth, Dean. Please. However you think I might take it.”

Dean does. He starts at the beginning, when he was four years old, and tells you about when his mother died. He tells you about growing up on the road with John Winchester, learning about hunting.

He feels like he talks forever, but in reality it’s only a few minutes to get the truth out there, and he just stares at his hands when he’s done, praying that you’ll believe him.

“So the-- thing we saw earlier… outside the motel--”

“A demon.” Dean says. “Sam was doing an exorcism when you showed up.”

You rub your hands over your face. “Dean-- you have to know how that looked.” You’re almost pleading with him to understand why you were upset. Dean wants to laugh, but he can’t.

“Of course I do. And-- god, I don’t blame you for wanting to run as far as you can in the other direction.” He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing together, heart skipping when you don’t pull away. He takes a deep breath, “Everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me, or is dead. What we do-- it’s dangerous. But I couldn’t stay away from you even if I tried.”

A few tears slip down your cheeks and Dean wants to stop, wants to wipe them away, but he has to finish what he has to say or he never will. “I shouldn’t have kept this from you, but I didn’t know how you’d take it. But this was worse. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

A semi-uncomfortable silence overtakes you both, and he notices that you still can hardly meet his eyes. “Tell me what to do to fix this,” he says quietly, staring at his hands. He notices they’re shaking a little bit, and he feels-- he can’t lose you.

You’re important to him. He thinks he’s in love with you. For once in his life, he’s not willing to give this up. Not this time.

You don’t say anything for a long time, and he’s convinced it’s over.

“Let me drive you home,” you say finally, and he just…. Shrugs. Gives in. What else is he supposed to do?

“It’s not-- that’s the other thing I didn’t tell you. Where we live, it’s…” He trails off. “I’ll show you.”

The two of you switch seats, and Dean fidgets as he watches you get into the driver’s seat of his beloved car, turning the key and slowly backing out of the parking space.

Sobering up as the cool night air hits his face with the windows down, he gives you directions until you’re pulling up close to the bunker, trepidation on your face. “Dean--”

“I know. I told you it’s… different. Come on.” He gets out of the car, waiting for you. “I mean… if you want.”

You get out slowly, but you don’t shy away from him, and he can’t help the way his heart leaps a little as he walks to the front door with you.

“This is unbelievable.” You mutter, and he smiles.

“Just wait.”

He hauls the heavy door open and gestures for you to go ahead of him, seeing you stop on the landing of the staircase as the lights flicker on and you take it all in.

“Holy shit.” You whisper.

“I can show you around. If you want.” Dean asks tentatively, holding out his hand. It’s a peace offering, an olive branch, and an apology all wrapped up into one. Also a plea, a plea for you to trust him even though you have no reason to, and his heart races as he watches you make a decision.

When your hand slides into his, it feels like coming home, really and truly.

[split-n-splice]

"I'm weak on the whole dating thing. Seriously, that whole Drakken business didn't leave a lot of time for socializing." Gee! I wonder, why was she so quick to blame Drakken? ;D

Also, song in mind for Drakken is Thunderstruck...which will come back next chapter in a really corny way because I love bad puns apparently.

[Chapter Guide | FFn | Ao3]

30. Aura of Others – 4

Angel boy greeted her with a handshake, which she declined. Her palms were sweaty but that wasn’t their worst offense. She kept them hidden behind her back, too struck by the spike of nerves stinging her palms that she almost didn’t catch his name. Thomas Thompson. His friends called him Tom, Tom Tom, or Tommy. She decided on Tom.

She forgot her own name, and her condition was worsened when she realized the rockhound was waiting for it in turn. Torn between spitting up an alias and her real name, she nearly blurted the wrong answer, barely managing to stutter out, “She— Shilo. It’s Shilo.”

Angel boy – Tom – let his outstretched hand fall. He gave a small awkward laugh and got the door, gesturing her in. “Hope you weren’t waiting long,” he apologized. It sounded strangely sincere. She almost believed it was.

Shilo took a deep breath and willed the heat away from her skin, wishing it could just stay locked away burning in the pit of her stomach. “Just a couple minutes,” she fibbed with a meek shrug. It had been more like twenty, but at least half of that was on her for showing up early.

She lingered at an awkward distance as she faced the cause of the hellfire threatening to burn her alive. Tom threw glances over his shoulder at her, flashing wavering smiles, until she was forced to face him head-on once seated at a table for two. Directly beside the stage, no less. She tried to find her voice and suggest elsewhere, but options were limited as the place was packed tonight.

She gathered the extra bustle was due to a portion of the town’s power grid going down due to the weather. Her part, by the sound of things. Something about a downed tree taking power poles with it. She was too caught up in eavesdropping on the table over and avoiding eye contact to immediately notice Tom was fishing for her attention until he fanned his menu at her.

Going rigid at the breeze, she snuck a glance at the aquamarine eyes sparkling at her. She barely heard him inquire on her age. She barely remembered what it even was with him looking at her – but the age he gave her in turn sent a strange swell of nerves mixing around in her stomach. He was twenty. Less than a year older than her – that was perfectly acceptable, perfectly normal, she assured herself inwardly. He only asked because he was curious if she drank. As Shilo’s eyes strayed across the establishment to locate a familiar mullet at the bar, she lied and said she didn’t. It was a poorly executed joke, as it turned out, and Tom ordered her a diet soft drink before she could order a coke for herself.

She tried to ignore the technical difficulties occurring on stage as she skimmed over the menu, and tried not to peek over the top of it toward Tom or the rogue doctor who’d resigned to slumping at the bar a ways behind him. She saw Drakken knock back at least two shots, and there was no telling how much he’d downed when she wasn’t looking.

Too unfocused to give the menu any real consideration, she ordered something she knew they had and she liked – chicken strips with a side of jojos. And a salad, she added under Tom’s studying stare. He’d been vegetarian for nine months, she learned. She couldn’t care less about his grilled eggplant.

Participants began taking the stage again. As each sang their number and moved along, she dreaded whoever might come next. She nibbled uneasily on her jojos, only half-listening to Tom’s criticisms of the wannabes. He boasted about being a soprano in choir. She’d heard Drakken sing at quite a high pitch too, and she wasn’t eager to hear Tom anytime soon – but unfortunately, Tom had other plans. He’d signed up and was patiently waiting his turn.

“You should try it,” he suggested. “It’s fun,” he promised.

She almost bought it. Wouldn’t that get under Drakken’s skin, to take the stage just because some angel boy urged her to? She had to shake her head. “I’ll pass,” she said. “I can’t sing.” According to the curious blue man now eyeballing her from the bar, that was a lie. She kept her head down, wishing she hadn’t worn her hair up so she could at least hide her flushed cheeks a little behind it.

Tom went on to make a meager attempt to egg her on but got a clue quick that it was futile. “Maybe next time we can try the bowling alley,” he said sheepishly.

Next time? She almost laughed but the incredulous noise that escaped her in its place was laced with nerves. “Y-yeah,” she stuttered. “Maybe. Where’s that at?”

Angel boy arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me?” he said, blinking incredulously at her. Shilo’s smile was strained. “Everyone knows about the bowling alley. It’s practically a historical building around here.” She really wasn’t thrilled to have ignorance rubbed in, but kept her mouth shut. The talkative boy wove his hands under his chin and leaned over the table toward her, a dazzling smile scorching through her. “You’re really not from around here, are you?”

“Is it my accent?” she guessed awkwardly. She wouldn’t even say she had one – but maybe a Nevadan local might notice she was from out of the area.

“No,” said Tom, lowering his voice. “You were on TV. You’re—,” he shut his mouth, eyes flicking around the crowded room. A wise move – now if only he’d shut up completely. Shilo sat rigid, none too eager to hear her alias from his mouth. He bit back a nervous chuckle and sat back, fighting off the grin. “I think it’s amazing what you do.”

Discerning what she was being praised for wasn’t exactly rocket science. Whether he was amazed by the heroic acts of her former life or the misdeeds she’d indulged in since arriving in this oasis town, she forced on a smile and turned her nervous eyes down to poke at her salad. “What gave it away?” she wondered uneasily, though she really didn’t want to continue the subject. Maybe he’d spell it out for her what aspect appealed to him – though she already had a pretty good idea which side of her some religious vegetarian with a stance against alcohol would fancy.

“Lucky guess,” he whispered above the ending wails of a karaoke participant, and Shilo decided trick-or-treating in uniform had definitely been a foolhardy thing to do. “Um…We shouldn’t talk about this here, huh?”

She narrowed her eyes on him, a little more hostile than she meant to be. “Take a guess,” she suggested. She cleared her throat then, trying with difficulty to reclaim some of the fluster that had dissipated. His charm was wearing off fast. “Um. I mean, yeah. I’ve, um. Come out west to take a break. Get some me-time in,” she fibbed. “It was pretty demanding work.”

“So you’ve given it up?”

Her eyes flicked up to the almost crestfallen young man. “Classified,” she said shortly and stuffed tasteless salad in her mouth. As he watched her, she realized that she really should have denied everything from the get-go.

She should have known better, but disappointment still got the best of her. So that was it. Thomas Thompson’s interest in her wasn’t in her – it was in a superheroine who went by a stage name. It had to be. A chill sank into her bones, smothering the inferno that had been straining to flare and flow freely until now. So what? So what if he liked some nonexistent supergirl? She was Shilo tonight and Shego wasn’t the superhuman she used to be, and she wasn’t going to go out of her way to clean up the town no matter what sad look he gave her. And if he dared to blow her cover, then she’d just have to find something even worse to do to him than steal some stupid valuable rocks.

Another thought crept over her, churning her stomach and obliterating her appetite completely. If he’d figured it out, some small-town nobody, who else had? The damn Team Go jet had been parked out on the front lawn all day, for crying out loud. It was a dead giveaway. It had even made local news! Hugo couldn’t learn the meaning of subtle if it was engraved on a brick and chucked at his head. How he ever went so long with a secret identity was a mystery.

“Nothing wrong with time away to find yourself,” said Tom eventually, sounding awfully disenchanted. Good. “Have you thought of finding—?”

“Thomas Thompson, if you say Jesus, I swear to God,” Shilo hissed, pointing a lettuce-laden fork at him. The young man looked taken aback. Remembering why she was wasting her time on this absurd date in the first place, she forced another smile and a small laugh. “I’m kidding. It was a joke.”

“Hah,” he said in lieu of a real laugh, still visibly unsettled. He shifted in his seat. “I’d still like to get to know you better. If that’s cool with you.”

Movement behind him caught her eye, and whatever he was spieling about movie tickets went in one ear and out the other now. She tried not to look straight at Drakken swaggering across the room, weaving between tables and nearly knocking into a busboy. Shilo realized he was heading for the stage – but first, the tipsy man took a few paces past the steps to make an odd gesture behind Thomas. Her eyes narrowed on the smirking rogue doctor fluttering his hands behind the angel boy like a pair of little wings.

His secret mocking didn’t help the warmth creeping back to the surface.

Tom turned to glance back and Shilo snapped her eyes back to her half-cleared plate. Drakken was already marching up onto the stage.

The screen to feed him the lines was snubbed with a haughty laugh and he cleared his throat, or maybe he was just choking on spit. She knew the boozy rogue doctor was going to go all out when he scooped up the microphone. He gave a thumbs up to whoever was in charge of the system, and the track started. Shilo leaned forward on her elbows and squeezed her eyes shut as the man on stage took the moment to exercise his vocal cords, rocking on his heels and nodding along as he fell into the rhythm before stomping to a thunderous rock beat , effectively earning attention of diners. It wasn’t as good as the original, and he’d had a bit too much to drink to perform at his best, but no one could say he wasn’t enthusiastic.

If her eyes were open, she would have rolled them at the blatant attention-seeking, but she was bound and determined not to give him the time of day.

“This guy,” huffed Tom. There was something less than holy in angel boy’s tone as the current drunk participant began wholeheartedly reciting verses by heart while Shilo’s stomach knotted up.

She risked cracking her eyes open, raising her brow at Tom. “You know him?” she wondered as the volume rose.

“No, it’s just!” Tom waved off toward the stage, though Drakken was all but jigging directly above them now. He spoke behind his hand then. “Every time he’s here, he totally hogs the mic.” She could picture that.

She tried not to glance toward the oxfords skittering nearby. “You come here often?”

Tom shrugged one shoulder in an ambiguous answer and sat back to sip his diet soda and watch the soloist rocking out. As Shilo was gauging him, his critical eyes turned curious and back on her, flicking upward and back. “Do you know this guy?”

“Nope,” she said with a pop, fidgeting with her straw to swirl the ice in her glass.

“He’s sure looking at you a lot.”

She didn’t need to look up to see for herself. She could feel it. Playing it off, she shook her ponytail from side to side. “What can I say? I’m hot stuff,” she quipped as cooly as possible.

Tom stared at her for a long moment before a genuine grin cracked across his face and a chortle broke out. “Is that because – because of—?” He held his hand up and wiggled his fingers as if to imitate her fire. Her face heated, and if the angelic moron wasn’t careful, he’d soon be treating burns. So he got the joke. It wasn’t that funny. He could quit giggling about it any time now.

He reined it in, wiping the smile off his face. “Why don’t we get out of here?” he suggested. “This guy’s creeping me out. He’s kind of a freak.”

While Dr. Drakken was rightfully off-putting, boozy and jamming out on stage mere feet away, thoroughly humiliating her, she still shook her head. She let the freak comment slide – this time. “We can leave after I see what you can do,” she said.

Drakken’s number ended. He put the microphone back on the stand and left the stage without making a scene. Some applause followed him, but if Shilo was being honest, he was a pretty far off his game tonight. It had to be the shots he’d been knocking back.

Once Drakken had disappeared, angel boy excused himself, eager to jump up and hurry across the restaurant to have a little chat with a young friend who seemed to be in charge of karaoke tonight.

Shilo jumped when a hand brushed her shoulder, whipping her head one way and then the other to face Drakken as he leaned down on her other side. “How’s the, uh, heh. Date? Going?” he chuckled, speech slurred and broken, leaning heavily against the table on one elbow. He pointed to her unfinished plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

She snatched the chicken strip he was eyeballing and stuffed it in his mouth. “Here. Choke on it, will you?” she hissed.

“Mmph—thank ya, ma’am.” He drug himself away from her, taking his musky tobacco and alcohol scents with him. “He ain’t got nothin’ on me, you know. You really should bail while you have the chance.” He gave an awkward wink that looked more like he was trying to blink an eyelash out of his eye.

She’d love to punch him, or at least shove his face away. She had to squeeze her untrustworthy hands between her knees instead. “Drakken—”

“I’m just saying,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry I don’t have earplugs for you.” He tossed the last bite of chicken in his mouth as he backed away and saluted her. “I’m out.”

“Good,” she spat after him. He’d embarrassed her enough. She didn’t need him going the extra mile to tempt her fire to the surface. She glared as he disappeared through the restaurant, and cast a nervous glance across toward Tom, who was still unaware “ the freak” had been all but draped over her seconds ago.

She shouldn’t have taken Drakken’s warning with a grain of salt. She should have questioned her decision to stay when Thomas had been boasting about being a soprano. The notes he hit could have hurt dog ears, and like his jokes, his number was poorly executed. The deity worship she could take, but if he sang any louder, glasses would be the next thing to start cracking, after his voice.

She had half a mind to dine and dash. She even grabbed her purse off the floor from between her ankles and began looking for an escape route. But Tom was right above her, watching her with a gaze more unnerving than Drakken’s, and sneaking out was sure to ruin any hope of a second date.

As she suffered through the insufferable performance, she weighed how badly she needed a straight-laced young man any father would approve of. Not that she needed her father’s approval. What she needed was for her brothers to turn a blind eye to Drakken and assume him gone from the picture.

“Do it for Drakken,” she mouthed to herself dryly as Thomas Thompson finished his indiscernible gospel spiel and received undue applause. She glanced toward the exit Drakken had departed from. She wished she could walk out that easy. He didn’t seem happy with her arrangement with Tom tonight, but big deal. He had nothing to worry about, as far as being shown up went. And it wasn’t just for his sake anyway. She was scoping out valuables. She closed her eyes and tried to replace the aquamarine eyes seared into her brain with a wealth of gems in any color but blue.

She’d endured the heat boiling below the surface this long. When Thomas kindly covered the bill and brought up movie tickets again, she smiled and nodded. A movie. How bad could that be?

As soon as he surmised it, she realized she didn’t want to find out. She would have expected some romantic comedy with religious undertones from the young man walking her out of Westinger Grill, but a sci-fi shouldn’t have been surprising either. Something about it twisted in her stomach though. Aliens and space travel didn’t set great with her on a regular day – not since Lady Fate anyway – but the description the overeager boy beside her gave sounded right up Drakken’s alley.

Leaving the juniper-lined walkway, she caught sight of the brown station wagon still sitting off in the dark parking lot, a window now down despite the chill, and a wispy cloud rising from it drawing her eye like a smoke signal.

“Actually, I should really head home,” she said suddenly, interrupting the boy she’d tuned out several seconds ago. “I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Tom uttered, stopping to stare at her. “I can give you a ride—?”

“Um. No thanks.” She tucked her hands behind her back and backed away quickly. “You’ll be late for that movie. It sounds like you’ve been looking forward to it for a while, so. I’d hate to make you miss it.”

Perched on his little white moped, Thomas scuffed his sneaker on the blacktop. “Can I get your number?” he inquired hopefully.

Her gut twisted. No, she wanted to say. She’d really rather not hand that out. Yet somehow, “You got a pen?” made it out of her mouth instead. His crystal eyes lit up, and he patted himself down to find a ballpoint in one of his pockets. How convenient.

She didn’t expect it to be handed to her. Her mouth was cotton, and her hands were instantly hot enough she could feel the plastic start to squish between her fingers. To make matters worse, Thomas offered his palm, utterly oblivious to the alien fire building beneath her skin. Her stomach lurched as she reached out with trembling fingers to hold his hand steady and scrawl the string of numbers across his palm.

“I can give you mine?” he offered when she passed the pen back.

“Not a good idea,” she blurted, wringing her hands behind her again and taking a quick step back once more. She didn’t need Drakken finding it that much easier, for one. Second, she didn’t need to burn ink into her skin for a temporary tattoo. She’d done that before by mistake.

“Okay…see you around, Shilo,” said Tom, offering her a warm smile. “Maybe next time I’ll get you up there with the mic. Or bowling. Or whatever.” He shrugged awkwardly and smiled again. “We’ll figure something out. Is next Friday good for—?”

“Can’t,” she said shortly. She combed her fingers through the ponytail flopped over her shoulder. “I mean I have – uhm. I’m busy Friday.” She didn’t know what she’d be busy with, but she’d figure something out.

She breathed easy again when Thomas Thompson gave an awkward goodbye and rode off. She hadn’t been keen to climb onto the back of a puttering moped anyway, let alone hold onto him. Not yet anyway. “Dodged that bullet,” she muttered to herself, relieved for now. She wondered if she could keep up the charade though. She’d probably have to ride the stupid little thing eventually, even if she couldn’t say she was eager to see the angel boy again. “Do it for Drakken,” she repeated silently to herself like a mantra as she retreated.

A weirdly off-tune and sluggish wolf-whistle acted as a summons, though not one she particularly appreciated.

With Tom out of sight, she was safe to storm up to the station wagon. Slumped behind the wheel in the dark was Drakken, a cigarette between his lips, cherry burning bright like a beacon.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed at him, leaning in through the window. Her eyes darted down to the fidgeting in his lap, and she would have reeled if freezing weren’t her second instinct.

Drakken held the revolver he’d pulled on her weeks ago in Go City. He was idly popping out the cylinder, giving it a spin, and popping it back in. The chambers were empty. He seemed disappointed by that. She relaxed a little and held out her hand. He sighed and surrendered the firearm.

“Doc—”

“Don’t worry about it,” grumbled Drakken, cigarette bobbing as he spoke. “I’ll feel better after…I dunno. It’ll pass.” He shrugged miserably.

“You’re sure this isn’t about Tom?” she pressed skeptically. She really hoped not. If it was – he was being a huge baby for no reason. She’d have to address it eventually, but preferably not right now when she was at risk of burning up.

Drakken snorted. “That’s his name?”

“You’re one to talk, Drew,” she retorted.

He gave a withering sigh and answered her question, admitting, “Not at all, but it doesn’t help.”

“Then what is it?” Shego groused and plucked the half-spent cigarette from his lips to flick it out on the wet pavement and take a drag herself.

Drakken pouted at her, but shook his head and crossed his arms. “Let’s just say, my mother is not happy with me,” he grumbled.

“Your mama?” She was surprised until she recalled last night and the invitation to a family reunion for Thanksgiving from his mother. “What’s wrong. Is she disowning you?” Maybe she came off just a little too cold because the frightened look the glum man shot her burrowed through her skin to make her wince a little and regret the remark. Bitter resent for her own deadbeat mother was no reason to wish anyone else to be on bad terms with theirs.

“Don’t even kid like that!” Drakken blurted, looking on the verge of tears. “That’s – that’s – that’s evil, Shego. Low blow.” He pawed his eyes, and she passed the smoke back. Maybe he needed it more than her.

She tossed the revolver into the back and opened the door. “Move over, baby. I’m driving.”

“No,” he grunted, too stubborn to move his butt. “You don’t even know how to drive stick.”

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. He had a point.

“Shego, please, there’s a restroom inside,” grumbled the man. Now wasn’t the best time for witticism, but the miserable man got a giggle out of his own immature quip nonetheless. She’d heard enough bad jokes tonight, but kept her complaint on his bathroom humor to herself and shoved him aside.

Shego climbed in, taking his warm place on the bench behind the wheel. “Guess it’s about time I learn, right?” she huffed. “Too drunk to mentor me?”

As she cast a glance across to him, he was already raising a bottle of something to his lips. She wondered if he’d stolen it from the bar. Thinking twice, he screwed the lid back down and lowered the bottle to the floorboard. “Uhm…”

“Of course you are,” she sighed.

Drakken objected to that statement and followed it up asking if she had a doggie bag. She sighed and forked it over, the boozy man happy to snack on greasy potato wedges and the remaining chicken strip.

Sitting quietly in the chill, she finished off his cigarette as he finished off her leftovers. Just as it had earlier, Drakken’s mood seemed to improve the longer she sat beside him, and he was humming almost happily as he licked his gloved fingers and finally wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Up for California?” he wondered, almost blithe.

Shego sighed. “With you drunk? Don’t think so. Besides, I’m tired. It’s been a crappy day. I wanna go veg out and crash, dude.”

“Can we at least push the car off a cliff first before you call it a night?”

Shego looked across at the hopeful blue man staring back at her. A small smile weaseled onto her lips, mirrored tenfold on his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

“Jealousy looks cute on you” High Honor! Arthur Morgan x Reader Fluff

High honor! Arthur x reader

Fluff

Arthur has noticed you receiving attention from other men and you can’t figure out what his problem is.

“I hope someone has told you how gorgeous that smile is today, because you deserve to here it every day.” The man at the bar was sitting way too close to you for comfort and you could smell the liquor on his breath. You waved the bar tender over, hoping you could just ignore the drunk stranger.

Arthur told you to meet him at the saloon to plan a home robbery over a couple of drinks. You’ve only been in the gang for a few months, but you’ve already gotten close with everyone at camp, even Micah to your distaste, has been openly friendly with you and if you didn’t know any better you would say he was flirting. You usually laugh it off and respond with something witty but something about him just makes you wary, so you avoid being alone with him at all times. But of all the friends you made in camp, Arthur is your closest friend. Hosea likes to joke about how good for each other you are, but you dismiss it every time saying how you’re just good friends.

You would be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Arthur is very handsome after all, and under all that hard exterior he’s just a softie. Once while on a trip to town when it was just the two of you he stopped mid conversation. Off to the side of the road, a white tail doe was struggling and crying on the ground. You watched Arthur approach the deer, expecting him to put it out of its misery. He kneeled beside the doe and gently ran a hand down its abdomin and his eyes softened, “she’s about to give birth. Looks like the poor thing is having a hard time, we need to help her.” He said absolutely, you realized you’ve never heard his voice so soft and focused.

He turned to you and asked if you could set up camp. You nodded and immediately started on the fire. “When you get the fire started, run down to that river and grab some water. Get it boilin’ if ya don’t mind, darlin’.”

You turned towards the river immediately, hiding your blushing cheeks. You had heard him call his horse darlin’ but not anyone else at the camp. ‘Maybe...just maybe’ you think to yourself. As you bring the water back to the fire to boil, you look at Arthur. His eyes fixed on the doe like it’s the only thing in the world. ‘There’s no way’ you think to yourself. ‘He’s too handsome for the likes of me.’ And push every romantic thought out of your head.

You weren’t much help other than being an extra set of hands, Arthur had definitely done this multiple times before, his hands were experienced and he spoke softly to the doe, giving her support that she couldn’t understand but you were certain she knew.

He pulled the fawn as the mother pushed and you heard a small whimpering. Arthur turns to you holding the new born fawn, and the love in his eyes was enough to melt your heart. He gently place the fawn with the mother, and just as quickly as Arthur shifted to a side you had never seen, he was back to his regular self. After wiping his hands, he crossed you to get on his horse. “You ready?” He said.

You were breathless. The man you knew to be a ruthless killer who is willing to rob and steal from any man just stopped to help an animal that may not have even needed his help. You nodded.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by another stranger. “Did ya hear me ma’am? I’m talking to you.” A different man, at least twice your age and twice as ugly had taken the spot of your last admirer. You roll your eyes and give him a smile and turn back to bar tender. As you lift your hand to wave the bartender, the drunk ugly man grabbed your arm with enough force to make you wince as he grabbed you. “Now you best be payin’ attention to me girl, I asked you how much you cost.”

You tried to pull back your wrist but he tightens his grip, you know it’s going to bruise but that’s the last thing on your mind. “Excuse you sir, but you couldn’t give me enough money to even look at you twice.” You spit back defiantly.

That was a mistake. He raised his other hand to strike you. Right as it’s about to hit its target another hand comes from the corner of your eye. You turn and as instantly relieved.

“The lady isn’t interested. Now I suggest you get yer goddamn hand off her before I break both of your wrists.” Arthur must’ve slipped in while short, drunk, and ugly was distracting you.

“Both w-“ he howled in pain as Arthur swiftly twisted the man’s wrist and you heard a solid crack. You couldn’t help but smile as the man looked between you and Arthur. As soon as Arthur released him, he ran straight out of the saloon tail tucked between his legs.

Arthur slid in beside you and waved the bartender over. He ordered his usual, two shots of whiskey. He pushed the second one to you which you gladly accepted. After you both take your shots, he turns to you. “So, you had a lead for a home robbery?”

“Yeah, an old man living out on the plains. A mean bastard, no family or friends so no one will be with him or looking for him. Apparently he’s got a good bit of money stashed somewhere on the property.”

Arthur nods. “Sounds good, have you scoped it out yet?”

“Rode by there just yesterday. No neighbors near by and pretty far from any main roads. I highly doubt we’ll have any trouble.”

Arthur smiled and you hoped he assumed your pink cheeks were from the liquor. “Look at you, big bad robber! You’re one of us, that’s for sure.”

After getting two more shots for the both of you, he looked at your wrist and frowned. When you looked down you noticed it was already starting to bruise. “I oughta kill that bastard.” He said with that deadly tone that you weren’t sure if it scared you or stirred something more primal in you.

You gave a nervous laugh, “awww you know better than to worry about me, you know I’m tough as nails!” You let out a loud belch and Arthur’s face softened as he let out a deep bellied laugh.

“Well, I just-“

“Ma’am, is this guy bothering you?” What was with the men in the bar today? This fellow looked barely old enough to be in a saloon, dressed much nicer than anyone else in the bar. You look at Arthur and his jaw was clenched tight, a hard look on his face you found hard to read. “If he is bothering you, you’re more than welcome to enjoy your drinks with a gentlemen.” He said smugly. “I’m sure a handsome gentlemen is better company than some dirty bumpkin.”

You turn to the stranger. He has no idea who he’s talking to and you feel sorry for him. You waited for Arthur to jump down his throat, punch him, and continue like normal but there was a strange look in his eye, almost a look of defeat.

You put a hand on the stranger’s chest and give him your sweetest smile. You couldn’t help notice Arthur’s eyes widen and stare at your hand. You leaned in close to the stranger, he was wearing a strong fragrance that made you want to gag. You could feel him straighten up in victory as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Ya know,” you say softly in his ear “I would rather eat shit off a platter than give you the time of day. And as for this” you grabbed his hand from your waist gently “if this isn’t removed in the next five seconds, it will be removed from your body and that’s a promise.”

The stranger was dumbfounded, he stumbled on his words. “I er...I just-“

“You just nothing. Now git.” Your voice much lower and more serious.

He turned so quickly to leave he tripped over his own feet and crawled to his table. You turn to Arthur who is equally dumbfounded. You give him a smile and turn to the door, “come on Arthur, let’s go grab some supplies from camp then we can head out.”

When you returned to camp, Kieran was already at your tent. He looked nervous but that wasn’t anything new for him, he always seemed nervous here, especially around Arthur, Dutch, and Bill. You always had a soft spot for him, you were the first to trust him and give him friendship. You understood what it was like to be in a bad situation with bad people and saw how genuine he was when he spoke. Come to think of it, you’ve never heard him tell a single lie. “Lookin’ for me Kieran?”

He stands and faces you quickly, he was surprised to see Arthur standing behind you and immediately started fumming with his hands. He looked at you, at the ground, at Arthur, then back to the ground. “I er...I wanted you to have this.” He pulled a candy bar out of his pocket and handed it to you.

“Oh Kieran that’s my favorite chocolate bar! How did you know?” You beamed at him, before you joined the gang you spent most of your life alone, and now you have a whole family of people who do nice things for you!

Kieran’s face turned bright red and he rubbed the back of his neck, “ahh it’s no big deal, just saw it last time I was in town and thought of you.” He looked at you and gave you a sheepish smile. “Anyways...that’s it I uh, I should go.”

Kieran hung his head and quickly walked away. You turned to Arthur, pleased with your gift from your friend, and again he had that strange look in his eyes, fist balled tight. “What’s wrong?”

His face changed quickly, “Not a thing, dar- Y/N. I need some things from my tent, want to meet back at the horses?”

“Sounds good!” You couldn’t help but think about how Arthur’s face looked earlier when at the bar and when Kieran gave you the chocolate. Was it anger? ‘Why would he be mad at Kieran giving me chocolate?’ You thought. ‘Maybe he doesn’t trust Kieran yet, I’ll have to talk to him and let him know he can trust him.’ You packed a couple days worth of provisions and supplies for your trip and walked to your horse, Clementine. She’s been with you for years and has been your only company in many situations. As you pat her neck she slowly moves her head towards your satchel. You give her a laugh, “you silly horse I know what you want.” You reach into your saddle and pull out a carrot. Clementine whinnies happily and you feed it to her. You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and turn to see Arthur. “Ready?”

You nod and mount your horse. “Any of the guys coming with? I thought we could ask Lenny or Kieran to join us.”

Arthur made that face again, “We can handle this ourselves.” He whipped the reins causing his horse to push ahead, and you rolled your eyes and followed.

__________________________________________

The robbery went exactly as planned and you were back at camp after a day and a half. Arthur was quiet most of the time and you could tell something was bothering him. When you asked, he would dismiss it or change the subject. As you walked into camp, you were greeted by a very bouncy Kieran. “Y/N! I’m glad to see you, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you have a moment?” You looked to Arthur who had already turned away and was headed towards his tent, his shoulders looked more slumped than usual.

You followed Kieran to a remote spot of the camp, you could tell he was nervous as he was fiddling his thumbs and every time you looked him in the eyes he looked away. “I um.. I wanted to ask you the other day, when I bought the chocolate but Mr. Morgan-“

You gave him a smile and put your hand on his, “You don’t have to worry about Arthur! He’s just a big sweetie, he’s not as tough as you think. Don’t let him scare you, he’ll come around eventually.”

Kieran looked at your hand and took it in his. “That’s not what I meant, anyways I, I wanted to ask you if you were interested in courting. I mean, courting with me.” He looked at you with a sweet smile and everything clicked when you felt your stomach drop. Kieran was a sweet guy and a great friend but you didn’t expect this. Suddenly his hands on yours made you feel uncomfortable. “Kieran I... I don’t know what to say.”

He perked up and squeezed your hand, “you could say yes?”

You frowned and pulled your hands from his, “I could, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. I just...I thought we were friends.”

Kieran’s face dropped, “Oh I see.”

Your stomach was in knots. You’ve turned down drunks and gentlemen alike but you’ve never turned down a friend and it felt awkward yet sad at the same time. You knew your friendship wouldn’t be the same and it bothered you. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he be okay with just being friend? The next question on your mind jarred you, why aren’t you satisfied with being just friends with Arthur? You stood and put a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I need to think for awhile. I hope we can still be friends.”

Kieran gave a weak nod but you knew by the look on his face things would not be the same. When you got back to your tent, you flopped down on your cot, confused and frustrated with the men in your camp.

__________________________________________

The next morning was odd to say the least. Usually you’re awoken by Arthur with two cups of coffee, weirdly spry and energetic for the morning time. You figured he may have slept in but when you opened your tent, you saw him sitting alone with a single cup of coffee. Did you say something on the trip to upset him?

You looked around and Kieran was no where to be seen, which left you feeling a bit of relief. You stretch and walk to join Arthur. “Keeping the coffee for yourself this morning, I see.” You day in a joking tone. He nods and grunts, but doesn’t turn to face you.

You put your hand on his shoulder, “everything okay?”

He shrugged off your hand and you felt a pang in your chest. Why was he being so cold to you all of a sudden? You grab his shoulder and pull him to face you. “What is your problem? Did I do something to upset you?”

He stares into his coffee and doesn’t respond. He’s never been this cold toward you and the sadness and annoyance turn to tears. “If you don’t want to be my friend anymore just say it!” Your voice breaks at the end and he finally looks at you. You turn away quickly trying to hide your childish tears and walk back to your tent. Why did everything change so quickly? In a matter of days you feel as if you’ve lost all of your friends and don’t even know why.

You hear a soft tapping on your tent flap, you already know who it is, and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Come in.” You try to hide your emotions but fail terribly.

Arthur ducks into your tent and sits next to you on your cot. He’s always seemed so big to you but you couldn’t help but feel he looked so small in that moment. “I-it’s not that I don’t want to be your friend, that’s not the problem.”

You were confused and frustrated at this point and finally snapped. “What is it then, Arthur? What do you want? I don’t even know what I did but I feel like I’ve lost you.”

He finally looks at you and the look in his eyes broke your heart. He looked so sad, like he had been beaten down and couldn’t get back up. “I just...you and Kieran I-“

You knew it. He couldn’t trust Kieran and was taking it out on you. “Kieran is a good guy! When will you get that? He’s not trying to hurt us!”

“It’s not that!” Arthur snapped back, he looked tired like he hadn’t slept the night before. It was obvious getting an attitude wouldn’t get you anywhere. You sighed and put your hand on his back. “What is it Arthur? I hate seeing you like this, I hate us acting like this towards each other. Please talk to me.”

Arthur took your hand and your heart fluttered. In that moment his stormy eyes looked more vulnerable than the fawn he helped deliver. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know how close you are, I always knew he wanted you, hell who doesn’t?” He swallowed and even though he wasn’t facing you you could see the pink tint to his cheeeks. “I saw last night, I saw you holding hands I knew he would ask soon I just wasn’t expecting this soon. I uh” he let out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t expecting to be this out of sorts over it. I can’t stand seeing the way he falls over himself over you, or the way Micah stares, or the way Lenny smiles at you. I just...” He trailed off.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, he couldn’t be saying what you thought he was, was he?

“I just...I’ll be okay, as long as your happy even if that damn Kieran is what makes you happy.” He gave you the saddest smile you had ever seen, but you were also confused. “Kieran? Yeah Kieran asked to court me last night, but I told him no.”

Arthur’s eyes sparkled and the sadness seemed to evaporate. “You said no? Why would you do that?”

You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your hand, “There’s someone else I would rather have.” You lean in and kiss him softly. You feel all the tension leave his body as he wraps his arms around you. His soft lips move with yours and you can feel your heart pounding.

He pulls away slowly, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to do that.”

You smile and put your forehead against his, “well atleast you don’t have to wait anymore.”

He took your hands in yours, “Thank God, if I had to see you galavanting around on the arm of that moron I don’t know what I would do. Probably strangle him.”

You laugh, “probably. Ya know Arthur, jealousy is cute on you.”

[onewaywardwitch]

Just A Typo (6/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary: It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2275

A/N: I’m so happy to finally get to post this part! I’ve been most excited for this one. Thanks for all the love on the previous parts, enjoy part 6!

If someone had told me a month ago that I'd be spending my days working as the security analyst for Stark Industries and my nights chatting with the Avengers, I'd have asked how much they had to drink. It's amazing how an illegal act can completely turn your life around, and not in the ‘sent to prison’ sense.

Fortunately for me, Wanda took me under her wing. She was determined to have another female presence around in a tower overflowing with testosterone and I wasn’t complaining. I appreciated her company just as much as she did.

Everyone was far more welcoming. Well, almost everyone. Natasha still seemed adamant on ignoring me. But with Sam constantly joking around with me, it was easier to forget about it. I had become a common visitor of the residents upstairs and I loved getting to know their actual personalities rather than the superhero personas the world had grown so used to seeing. Like how Tony won’t speak to anyone before his morning coffee. Or how Bruce has to be brought food throughout the day, or else he would simply forget to eat.

But Bucky remained an enigma that I couldn’t crack.

It wasn’t that we didn’t spend time together. We did. And many times, I enjoyed being near him more than some of the louder Avengers. We were never hanging out alone, though. He was a lot quieter when I was around, but I didn’t take it personally. He was obviously still a bit nervous being around anyone other than his teammates, but I liked to think that I was growing on him. At least he sat down and talked to me with everyone else now, instead of just running out of the room. And I adored having more than just two friends. The top floor had quickly become a second home to me.

~~~~~

I ran my hand through my hair for what felt like the seventh time in five minutes. For some reason, the system I was planning on installing for Stark Industries was not cooperating with me. I was forced to keep changing around the algorithm and every new sequence was rejected, not working in the slightest. It didn’t help that I had already gone through a full pack of Haribo and had none left. Timothy, one of my co-workers with a strange love for the worst movies ever made, kept glancing at me every time I let out a frustrated groan. Whenever he looked over, he opened his mouth as if to ask me something, before closing it again. It didn’t take long for me to snap.

“If you’ve got something to say spit it out. You look like a fish doing that.” I should have felt bad for snapping at him. He was a nice enough person, and I had been informed by the secretary down the hall that he harboured a small crush for me. Unfortunately for him, I was prepared to pick a fight with anyone. He just happened to be on the receiving end of it.

“I, um, I was just wondering if you... if you needed a hand with whatever you're working on?” he asked me, nervously wringing his hands.

I stared blankly at him. My lack of response caused his expression to change from slightly hopeful yet nervous, to absolutely terrified.

Stop it, don’t be a bitch, he’s just being nice. You can do this, politely decline his offer. There's no need to make a scene.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Well, that didn’t work.

“Am I not capable of doing it myself now, huh? I can do it perfectly fine. The system is stupid, that’s all. I don’t need your help because you'll end up pissing me off even more than you already have.”

Wow, ok, enough. Close your mouth. Bite your tongue. Walk away. Do anything other than talking to him.

“And also, you are literally the only person in the world who actually likes ‘Sharknado’.”

Why? Why would you say that? You absolute idiot.

I turned back to the computer that I was incredibly close to smashing as I ignored Tim’s deflated expression. He moved back to continue on with whatever he was working on himself. I typed in new lines of code on my screen, praying that these would work. While I waited for the outcome, I started to feel a bit guilty. I was stressed about my job that I was really desperate not to lose and I was taking it out on whoever was closest to me, which just so happened to be Tim.

“Oh shit!”

The second I turned to apologise, I felt hand on my shoulder, scaring the absolute crap out of me.

“Sorry! I called your name and you didn’t answer. You looked deep in thought,” Bucky said uncertainly. I instantly relaxed in his presence and chuckled.

“It's ok, my fault anyway. I should have been paying attention to what was going on around me. It just gets interesting up here sometimes,” I tapped my head as I spoke.

Great, now he thinks you're a lunatic.

Bucky offered me a small smile, which I had come to expect from him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tim. I tried to ignore him. I really did. When he first saw Bucky come over to me his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. That look of awe turned to one of amusement when he saw me make a complete fool out of myself. I stared pointedly at him until he got the message and returned to his computer. Bucky raised his eyebrows at me, and I shook my head in reply.

So much for Tim’s apology.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Um, Tony sent me to get you. He wanted to talk to you about, er… something computer related, I think.”

“He could have called me, you know. You didn’t have to come all the way down here.”

“He wanted me to get you in person. Plus, I had to talk to someone down in communications anyway.”

I nodded and got up to leave with Bucky, completely forgetting about the system that had me wound up only minutes ago.

~~~~~

Why does elevator music always make everything so uncomfortable and awkward? I was desperately searching for a way to fill the silence but for once in my life my mind was blank. I heard Bucky mumble something, seemingly to himself. I brushed it off before he spoke up more confidently.

“I like your jumper.”

I swear, I had never turned red so quickly. It felt like my whole face was on fire. How did everything he say make me feel so giddy?

“Thanks! But it's actually my friend, Angie’s. She left it at my apartment a few days ago and I haven’t had a chance to return it yet. I don’t know why I said that, it's a lie. She forgot it at mine over a year ago and I really like it.” I didn’t think I could blush any harder. I was wrong.

“You're really close with your two friends, huh?” Bucky questioned. I relaxed quickly. I always found it easier to talk about anything that wasn’t about me directly.

“They're complete idiots, but I love them. They're my family. I'd be lost without them. I mean, Becca’s good fun and Angie is our designated babysitter most of the time.”

He let out a low laugh. “I guess I know how she feels. I'm always running around after Steve, trying to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Really?”

Bucky also seemed more at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. “It was worse back in the 40’s though. He was picking fights left, right, and centre. There was no super soldier serum to help him back then. He was just a kid with good intentions and twig-like arms.”

The ding of the elevator interrupted our chat. We stepped out, but I paused before we walked any further. Bucky turned to question me, and I stared open-mouthed at him.

“God, I was such a bitch to Tim!” I exclaimed suddenly, Bucky looking at me in surprise. “He was just trying to help me, and I-.“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence as I was overcome by fit of giggles. “I told him that nobody likes ‘Sharknado’ except for him!”

“Shark what?”

“Have you never heard of ‘Sharknado’? We have to watch it! It's a terrible film.”

“If it's so bad why do I have to watch it?”

“Because, it's a good bad movie. You watch it knowing it's going to be terrible and then you just give out about it afterwards. The full 21st century experience,” I explained to a very perplexed superhero. “Let’s go, best not to leave his royal highness waiting.”

~~~~~

Turns out Tony had summoned me to ask a single question about my work, before requesting advice on the nicest cafés in the area to bring Pepper to. We spent nearly an hour arguing over which is nicer, pancakes or waffles. He refused to accept the fact that pancakes are clearly superior and resorted to folding his arms and huffing like a child.

I finally made a move to leave when Tony told me he had some Avengers business to attend to.

“Next time you want a chat,” I said to him as I put on my jacket,” just give me a call. You didn’t need to send poor Bucky all the way down to me. He probably has better things to be doing.”

Tony snorted. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? He volunteered to get you. The second I mentioned I needed to talk to you, he all but ran off to find you.”

I scoffed and chose to ignore what Tony had said. “Bye, Mario!” I yelled back to him, making sure to close the door on his sounds of annoyance.

~~~~~

Some people can sense bad things just before it happens. Hairs standing on the back of your neck, chills down your spine. Some sort of sixth sense, I guess. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those people.

I was sitting in my empty, broken bathtub with my laptop, as you do, when I heard the crash. My head shot up immediately, staring at my bathroom door that I had left slightly ajar.

“It's nothing, you're imagining things.” I tried to convince myself I was hearing things until I heard what I assumed was one of my mugs crashing to the ground.

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest, and I willed myself to calm down. Placing my laptop carefully aside as quietly as I possibly could, I crawled out of the bath and creeped my way towards the door.

I peered my head out, nervously chewing on my lower lip. It was only a matter of seconds before I gasped and closed the door in panic. I made sure to do so silently and I held a hand over my mouth to control the ragged breaths that I could no longer control.

With shaking hands, I locked the door and took out my phone that felt stuck in my pocket. My only focus was calling the first person that popped into my head.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered, begging for a small ounce of luck.

“Miss me already?”

I sighed in relief. “Tony, there’re people in my apartment. Can you- can you send someone over please. I'm kind of panicking.”

There was a momentary pause and a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the phone before-

“Y/N listen to me. You need to get out of there right now. We’ll be there as fast as we can. Can you get to your front door?”

“I can’t, they’ll see me.”

“Shit,” I heard Tony breath out. “Alright, odds are they’re looking for your laptop so hang tight, hopefully they won’t be looking for you.

I groaned internally and stared at my laptop that I had forgotten about in the bath. Just my luck.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work. My laptop is with me.”

“You bring your laptop to the bathroom?”

“Some people bring their phones, I bring my laptop. Stop judging me.”

Tony decided to ignore my last comment, instead informing me that they were on their way. He asked if I could still hear the people in my apartment.

“Um, no, I don’t think I- “

The bang on the bathroom door made me jump and I clutched the phone tighter. I covered my mouth with my hand, willing myself to stop shaking. A second bang, and I took a few steps backwards slowly. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the door that I knew wouldn’t withstand much more. It took me a few seconds to realise that Tony had been shouting my name.

“Tony,” I whispered,” please tell me you’re nearby.”

I could hear him talking to someone else, his impatient tone not doing anything to reassure me.

“Still 10 minutes out, kid.”

Before Tony could even finish his sentence, the door came crashing down. I screamed, trying to shield my eyes from the splintered wood.

A man dressed entirely in black tactical gear made a move to grab me, and I dropped my phone in a panic.

“TONY!” I screamed. My attempt to remove myself from his grip was futile. He had grabbed my body and dragged me to where the rest of his team were waiting in my now destroyed kitchen. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice the fist that flew towards my face before everything went black.

Taglist (open):

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(if I forgot to tag you just send me a message)

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[kurokoros]

darling, dearest, dead | part three

Title: darling, dearest, dead

Rated: M (language, violence, sex, character death)

Words: 13.1K

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Jones!OC

Summary: Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment longer, fingers curling at his sides, as if he wants to touch her but knows he can’t. Not really, anyway. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he says, so much softer than she’s ever heard him before. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You have to let me go, Sweetheart.”

She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut tightly. Her throat goes tight, eyes itching and rimmed red. “I can’t,” she tells him. Fingers ghost against her cheek, close and cold and coaxing her to look at him again, and when she finally opens her eyes Sweet Pea smiles down at her, a broken little thing.

AKA: The Orpheus and Eurydice Retelling no one asked for.

Chapters: One | Interlude One | Two | Interlude Two | Three

Chapter Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6bUbgQXcS5iyznAkuJMnXJ

AN: This fic has been over a month in the making and I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with everyone! This fic is also available over on AO3 (link removed because tumblr sucks) if that will be easier to read!

There’s a reason for the coiled serpents on their backs. The Ouroboros. A snake that eats its own tail. Self-devourer. In the old Norse myths it appears as the serpent Jörmungandr, which grew so monstrously large it could encircle the world and grasp its tail between its teeth. It means unity. Completion. And in the old ways it means immortality. An eternal return. The continuous renewal of birth and death so many struggle to break free from.

It’s hard to keep a snake from coming back.

Jubilee’s hands shake as she watches her mother. The other woman avoids her gaze, still watching the moon from outside the window, a waxing crescent not even half full. Gladys slides from the bed, shaking her head and Jubilee stands slowly. “Are you saying there’s a way to bring him back?” Again, she’s ignored, and Jubilee’s throat grows tight. “Mom?”

It’s almost too much to process all at once. A blood-bond. The Old Gods. The Worm Moon. Rebirth. Sweet Pea might be able to come home. She can bring him back. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Her mother still hasn’t explained how it can work, still in awe over the blood oath and what that means for them. So few people are able to bind their blood—their souls. So few are willing to try. It’s rare among those who practice the Old Religion. And the Old Gods aren’t ones to forget so easily.

When Gladys does glance at her she’s almost apologetic. She turns on her heel, mumbling something Jubilee can’t make out before suddenly throwing open the bedroom door and slipping down the hall.

“Mom!” Jubilee rushes after her, nearly tripping over Hot Dog as the dog leaps from the bed. She stumbles around the corner, on her mother’s heels as the woman heads for the front door. “Hey!” Jubilee shouts after her, reaching out and grabbing Gladys by the elbow, yanking her back around. “Mom, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to just—”

“Jubilee?”

She cuts off abruptly, gaze snapping to the side and latching onto the concerned blue eyes of her younger sister. Jubilee’s breath catches in her throat as JB looks at her over the back of the couch, nestled into the space between Jughead and their father. It’s been too long since she’s seen the other girl, with both JB and their mother missing the funeral last month. JB called, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person.

FP rises slowly from the couch, brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” He glances between Jubilee and Gladys, the tension between them palpable. Jughead stands as well, skirting around the edge of the couch and taking a step towards her as Jubilee’s hands start to shake.

Her eyes flicker around wildly, unable to stay on any one of them for long. It’s still too much to process and a migraine is building in the back of her head, but she clings to that bit of hope. The Worm Moon. “Tell them,” she chokes out, a hard edge to her tone as she levels her mother with a harsh glare. “Tell them.”

Hot Dog whines at the sharpness of her tone, and Jughead reaches for her, fingers curling around her wrist gently. “Gladys?” FP turns to his wife, confusion swirling in his gaze. JB’s gaze stays locked on Jubilee, and briefly she wonders just how much her sister might know.

Jellybean Jones has always had a way of knowing things she shouldn’t.

Gladys sighs, arm still firmly locked in Jubilee’s grip, though she makes no move to pull away. She looks at FP first, searching his gaze for something. After a moment she seems to find it and straightens slightly. She clears her throat. “There may be a way to bring Sweet Pea back,” she tells them, turning back to Jubilee, “by making a deal with the Old Gods.”

It doesn’t take long for the fighting to start. The Joneses have always been an argumentative bunch: quick to anger and too headstrong for their own goods. And FP and Gladys have always disagreed on matters surrounding the Old Religion. The fighting reached a peak when Jubilee was fourteen and wanted to learn about the Gods and the power rippling through Fox Forest and Sweetwater River. FP never wanted his children involved, but there was nothing he could do to stop them. He’s never quite trusted the Pagans in Riverdale, less so after Clifford Blossom and the blood sacrifice that he found himself involved in. But it’s been years since then, and he’s always respected the Old Gods. He knows how dangerous it can be not to.

They haven’t fought like this in a long time, absolutely vicious in the way they tear into each other, not since JB decided to follow the way of the Old Religion as well.

Jubilee fiddles with the leather jacket strewn across her lap, tracing the worn patch that’s been there for nearly as long as she can remember. The snake stares back at her, coiled tight and teeth bared, ready to lunge and suddenly she feels so, so alive. More alive than she’s been in weeks.

JB and Jughead are settled on either side of her on the couch, both rattled by Gladys’ claim.

The pain in Jubilee’s head grows and she tries to ignore it, but the shouting makes a dull ache spread through her entire skull.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gladys?” FP spits at his wife, who simply stares back at him, as collected as ever. “Telling her shit like this right now?” The rage in his expression is heavier than Jubilee has ever seen from his before. FP would get mean when he used to drink, and he would raise his voice, but never like this.

“I’m telling her things she needs to know,” Gladys responds lowly, voice even, “which is more than what you’ve done.” It’s a barbed insult, laced with venom, and FP’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

He shakes his head, sending her a grin that’s too tight with too much teeth. “Don’t,” he warns her. A humorless, disbelieving chuckle slips from him. “Don’t you fucking pin this on me.”

Gladys purses her lips, not wavering from her spot in the center of Jubilee’s living space even as FP begins to pace, too aggravated to stay still. She’s always been the collected one, too calm, too still. Her quiet has always been more unnerving than FP’s often explosive personality. Again, she considers her words, choosing each one carefully before reminding FP that, “she was under your care.”

FP flinches, something wounded flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. “And where the fuck were you? Huh, Gladys?” he asks her, voice suddenly low. He stops pacing, taking a single step towards her. “Where the fuck were you all this time?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “You know why I had to—”

He doesn’t let her finish. “She needed you!” FP snaps at her, gesturing wildly towards Jubilee, who tightens her grip on the jacket tossed over her lap. “I fucking needed you!”

Gladys spits something back but Jubilee closes her eyes, blocking it all out as she plays with a loose thread on the Serpent patch.

JB links her fingers through Jubilee’s, squeezing tightly. Her nails dig into the back of Jubilee’s hand as the arguing grows louder. It’s been so long since the Jones family was all together like this, and Jubilee almost forgot how bad the fighting could get at times. Jubilee and Jughead were used to it when they were younger. FP and Gladys always used to argue. About Serpent business. About the Old Gods. The Jones family has always been opinionated. FP followed his own morals and Gladys was a force to be reckoned with.

Jubilee stares down at Sweet Pea’s jacket on her lap, at the ring she hasn’t had the heart to take off. It would hurt too much. Being in this house just hurts too much.

She takes her lip between her teeth, biting down until she draws blood, the lick of pain making her wince. It’s a dangerous thing, making deals with the Old Gods, especially the ones lurking deep in Fox Forest. They can be kind, but they’re also tricksters, manipulators. They play games without rules.

Her stomach flips, churning sickly, and the palm of her free hand presses to her belly, fingers tracing light, soothing circles.

A frustrated sound spills from FP and Jubilee glances up at her father. He rakes a hand through his hair, turning his back on Gladys and staring out the window, the sky beginning to grow dark. He murmurs something she doesn’t catch, shaking his head. There’s a note of disbelief in his voice when he says, “you want to let our daughter make a deal with a trickster god.” A short, breathy laugh slips from him and FP runs a hand down the side of his face.

“It’s her choice,” Gladys reminds him, more gently than before.

FP turns around to glare at her. “She could die,” he spits back, and it’s the raw fear there that makes Jubilee squeeze her eyes shut tight. Her palm presses harder to her stomach as it churns.

“She already wants to.” Jubilee’s eyes snap open, her head jerking up, and she finds her mother already staring at her, something indescribable in her gaze. FP reels back at the words and Jughead sucks in a sharp breath at her side, his hands curling into fists on his lap. JB squeezes Jubilee’s hand tightly, clinging to her. “I want her to be happy,” Gladys says, looking at Jubilee for a moment longer before turning back to FP.

“You think I don’t?” he asks her. FP looks absolutely broken, standing there in her living room, a shell of the Serpent King she remembers. There’s guilt in his eyes, shame, and Jubilee is suddenly struck by the realization that he’s blamed himself for what happened this entire time. “You think I wanted this for her?”

Gladys sighs. “That’s not what I—”

“You think I wanted her to—”

“That’s not what I said!” she snaps at him again, irritation flaring in her eyes.

“Dammit, Gladys, what were you thinking telling her—”

“What do I have to do?” Jubilee cuts her father off. JB’s nails dig into the back of her hand and Jughead tenses at her side, but neither say a word. FP snaps around to look at her, eyes widening slightly. Jubilee’s jaw is set, a stubbornness to her features that’s been muted in recent weeks. They watch her, on edge, but Jubilee’s eyes are on Gladys, who won’t look at her. “What do I have to do?” she repeats, louder this time.

FP shakes his head, shoulders slumping as he takes a step towards her. “Jubilee…” Whatever he was going to say trails off as her eyes meet his, wet and bright. The look she sends him is more hopeful than anyone has seen in weeks, pushing past the defeat that’s been clinging to her for the last month. It’s so much more alive and he has to turn away

Jubilee’s fingers slide away from Jellybean’s, her lips pursing. “If there’s a way to bring him back…” She turns back to Gladys, expression steely. “Mom, tell me what I have to do.”

Gladys keeps her gaze on FP for a long time, silent as Jubilee stares. Eventually, she sighs. “It won’t be easy,” she warns, finally looking at Jubilee.

Jubilee shakes her head. “I don’t care.” Gladys stares at her, searching her eyes, and Jubilee stares right back. Now that she knows there’s a chance that she can bring him back, however slim, she has to take it, with or without her mother’s help.

Finally, Gladys’ eyes soften just the slightest. She takes a step towards Jubilee, reaching for her. Jubilee stands from her spot between Jughead and JB, Sweet Pea’s jacket still clenched in one fist. Her eyes slip shut briefly when Gladys cups her cheeks, fingers cold as she brushes Jubilee’s hair away from her face. She sighs again, tilting Jubilee’s chin to meet her eyes.

“Give me one night,” Gladys whispers, thumb stroking her cheek. Jubilee frowns, opening her mouth to argue, but Gladys hushes her before she can speak. “There’s someone I need to speak to.” Gladys leans in to kiss Jubilee’s forehead, lingers for a moment.

She’s gone just as quickly, slipping out the door like some wraith. And Jubilee knows she’s gone to see Thomas Topaz.

In the morning there are thorns laying across the pillow where Sweet Pea used to sleep, not scattered like they should be but aligned in a perfect circle, like a crown. It’s a symbol of the full moon, an omen or perhaps a warning, Jubilee doesn’t know, but it makes her sick seeing them there. She considers throwing them away, breaking the circle, but she doesn’t dare to touch it.

Instead, she ignores it, goes about her business. She walks Hot Dog and works at the flower shop and spends several hours talking with Jughead and JB, catching up on the things they’ve missed. JB tells her about high school and Toledo and Jubilee talks about Sweet Pea and her pregnancy and all the plans they made together. It’s hard, talking about it, but she feels lighter after, better. And there’s hope there that maybe they can still have that future together.

When she returns home the thorns are gone.

Jubilee doesn’t question it. It’s easier not to. She doesn’t know what it meant and a part of her doesn’t want to know, but she resolves to ask her mother later in the night. If anyone knows what it meant it would be her mother. Or Thomas Topaz.

She knows little about the man, only that he’s Toni’s grandfather and that he has a connection to the forest much like her mother. He’s not a Pagan, not in the same way that Jubilee and Gladys are anyway, but there’s something special about him. He’s the kind of person that makes others nervous because they know too much. Despite that she’s always trusted the man, and he’s always been kind to her.

After Sweet Pea’s funeral, at the Wyrm, he took both her hands in his and murmured something in an old tongue she didn’t recognize. He kissed her brow and told her to have courage. She didn’t understand it then, maybe she still doesn’t, but courage is the one thing she’ll need during the Worm Moon.

By the time her mother returns it’s dark, close to midnight, and the moon is shining in through the window at the front of the trailer, the curtains drawn open wide to let the light in. Jubilee is sitting at the counter in the kitchen, a glass of water in front of her and one of whiskey across the counter. Gladys doesn’t say a word as she slips in through the front door, letting it close softly behind her and shedding her coat. Hot Dog runs up to greet her, tail wagging and Gladys runs her hand through the old sheepdog’s fur, scratching between his ears.

When she finally settles on the other side of the counter Jubilee leans back on her stool, bare feet brushing against Hot Dog’s back as he lies beneath her.

“Why did you go to see Thomas?” she asks her mother, fingers tapping against the countertop. Jubilee glances up at Gladys, watching as she lifts her glass, swirling the contents absentmindedly.

She’s quiet for a while, contemplating an answer before taking a drink. “To find out if anyone has done something like this before,” she answers eventually, frowning down at the glass.

Jubilee nods slowly, accepting the answer. If anyone would know it would be Thomas. He’s been in Riverdale since he was a child, and his family even longer than that, since before Riverdale was even settled. “And have they?” Jubilee’s eyes slide to the window, her skin crawling as it stares back. She rips her eyes away. “Has anyone ever tried something like this in Riverdale?”

Gladys shakes her head, downing more whiskey. “Not recently,” she murmurs, setting down her glass. She crosses her arms, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the counter. “Jubilee, you have to know this is taboo, even for us.” It’s a gentle reminder. There are lines they shouldn’t cross—that they can’t cross. “Bringing someone back it’s…” She trails off, shaking her head.

Chewing her lip, Jubilee closes her eyes. A part of her thinks she doesn’t care. It’s Sweet Pea. If it means saving him she would do anything. But the larger part, the rational part, knows she needs to be cautious. “And did you learn anything?”

“Rumors mostly,” Gladys tells her, tracing the rim of her drink with a finger. “But Thomas’s grandfather…” She looks at Jubilee pointedly, waiting for her to finish.

“He brought someone back?” Jubilee frowns, burying her toes in Hot Dog’s fur. She never would have expected that from any of the Thomas Topaz or his family. They’ve always been respected on the Southside of Riverdale, especially among the practitioners of the Old Religion, but have stayed on the cusp of it. Thomas especially tends not to involve himself in certain matters.

“Supposedly,” Gladys corrects, pursing her lips. “But this was years ago, back when Fox Forest was awake.” Her lip curls back, her eyes narrowing. None of them like thinking about that time, back when Riverdale was more wild, more dangerous. Back then sacrifices were more popular, a dark thrum of power settled beneath the soil. There was a time when a blood cult existed in Riverdale and people practiced the black arts. “It was put to sleep for a reason,” Gladys continues, looking at Jubilee. “Some of the deep magic… it was too much, too powerful.” Her gaze shifts to the window. “Clifford Blossom almost woke it.”

Jubilee stares down at her glass. “Clifford Blossom wanted power,” she reminds Gladys.

Gladys hums. “He did.” She takes another drink from her glass of whiskey, swirling the rest of it. “He almost unleashed a monster. It would have ripped through Riverdale and razed it to the ground.” Her shoulders slump with a sigh. “We were lucky to stop it in time.”

A shiver wracks her as she thinks about that time.

“Did Thomas say anything else?” she asks instead of dwelling on it, feeling queasy at the thought of Clifford and Jason Blossom and the darkness that nearly overtook the town. When Gladys shakes her head Jubilee decides to get to the point of things. “How does it work? People don’t just come back from the dead.”

Gladys hums her agreement. “No, they don’t.” She shifts, leaning back in her seat. “Normally this wouldn’t be possible, but the Worm Moon is…” she trails off, searching for the right word. “It’s powerful,” Gladys finally settles on.

Jubilee snorts. Every moon is powerful in Riverdale, some more so than others. The full moons are always a strange time in this town, the residual magic from Clifford Blossom’s mess bubbling up with nowhere to go. “As powerful as the Blood Moon?”

“Not usually.” Gladys finishes off her glass and rolls it between her fingers. “The Blood Moon, it’s darker,” she tells Jubilee. Her head cocks to the side as Jubilee wraps her arms around herself, fiddling with the sleeves of her over-sized sweater. “You felt it didn’t you?”

She nods, pressing her palm against the side of her stomach. That static feeling from back in January, when all of this began, comes back to her. “There was something in the air,” she recalls. “Like electricity. It only stopped after we…” Jubilee closes her eyes as the sensations come back to her: his lips moving against hers, the hands on her hips, a shaky breath against her throat.

Her throat closes up at the memory of his touch. The hollow ache in her chest grows bigger.

“You quelled it with Sweet Pea when you bled for it,” Gladys explains, fingers drumming against the side of her glass. She sighs through her nose and her fingers go still. “Fox Forest has always been hungry. A damn greedy bastard.” Jubilee glances at her, tensing at her mother’s words. Gladys meets Jubilee’s gaze, tracing the rim of her glass with one finger. “But that’s not what you want to know,” she notes, drawing an old symbol of protection against the side of her drink.

Jubilee leans forward, bracing her elbows against the counter. “How can I bring him back?” It doesn’t make sense to her. If the Worm Moon had that kind of power… “Wouldn’t more people have done that if it was possible?”

Gladys leans back, fingers tapping against the countertop in a rhythmic pattern. “It’s a very rare thing, Jubilee,” she explains, suddenly looking tired. “There are too many things involved with bringing someone back properly.”

Wincing, Jubilee curls her fingers into the loose fabric of her sweater. She’s heard the stories. People brought back with no souls, empty husks of what they were, nothing more than a puppet. Necromancy is the one thing the Riverdale Pagans have never dared to play with.

She mulls over her mother’s words, the rarity of bringing souls home intact. “You mean the bond?” Jubilee glances down at her lap, facing her palm upwards to see the thin scar on her palm. Even now she can still feel it ache at times, a phantom pain tying them together.

A blood-bond.

“That,” Gladys agrees, nodding slowly, “and this is only the second full moon since he died.” She snorts, ceasing her tapping with an unamused frown. “The Old Gods may not follow time as we do, but they do have their rules.” She meets Jubilee’s eyes, leveling her with a look more serious than before. “This is nothing more than good timing,” she tells Jubilee, and the underlying message is there. You’re lucky. “Do you know what’s happening next week?”

Jubilee’s eyes narrow as she tries to recall anything, but her sense of time has been skewed over the recent weeks. The dates have begun to blur together, weeks bleeding into each other until she’s lost track of everything but the phases of the moon.

“No,” she finally tells her mother, shaking her head slowly.

“This year,” Gladys says, reaching for the bottle of whiskey left out on the counter, “the Worm Moon is on the first day of spring.” She pours herself another glass, setting the bottle down a little too hard. “That makes it special,” she tells Jubilee, lifting her now filled glass. “Have you ever heard the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone?”

“King and queen of the Underworld.” Jubilee shrugs, looking at her own untouched glass. “She ate pomegranate seeds and was unable to leave.”

Gladys shakes her head. “Only in winter,” she corrects. “In spring she returns above ground, setting the course for the shifting of seasons.” Jubilee nods along with the words, remembering the story. The Greek myths are less popular in their circles, but well known none the less. “We have a similar myth.”

“I remember.” It’s one of the lesser myths, particular to those of the Old Religion and not well known by any means, but Jubilee always loved it. Gladys would tell it to her at night when she was unable to fall asleep. It was a somber story, a goddess of spring wed to the Lord of Death, the end of all things, a forbidden romance.

She can’t remember how it ends.  

“On the first day of spring a doorway is left open between us and death,” Gladys reminds her, staring out through the window at the rising moon. “Briefly, of course.”

Jubilee purses her lips, following her mother’s gaze. “So if this doorway exists why make a deal with an Old God?” she asks, eyes narrowing just a tick. Gladys turns back to her and Jubilee rips her eyes away from the moon. “Why risk that?”

The Old Gods are unpredictable. Most are kind, but there are tricksters, and making deals—making contracts—is something most of them won’t do unless there’s no other options. There’s too much to lose.

Gladys’ dark eyes bore into her own, a heaviness there that Jubilee has never seen before. A chill crawls down her spine as her mother stares straight through her. “To make sure it doesn’t close behind you.”

Her breath catches and her fingers dig into her palm.

The pair of them sit in silence for a long moment, Gladys drinking her whiskey and Jubilee  staring at the condensation on the side of her glass. “They left a circle of thorns on my bed last night,” she tells her mother eventually. Gladys’ eyes flick up to meet hers, hand stilling mid-air. Jubilee levels her with a heavy stare. “Does that mean anything to you?” Gladys purses her lips but says nothing. “The Worm Moon. Rebirth. That means Fox Forest is waking up isn’t it?”

Gladys is quiet for a long time. “Let’s hope not,” she says before downing her drink.

The week passes painfully slow to Jubilee. Each day stretches out long and she feels shaky by the end of each night. The Jones’ don’t talk about the coming full moon, but Jubilee can feel the weight of it pressing down on her, a heavy presence resting on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s almost suffocating. Jughead is a little too nice and FP is a little too quiet. Jubilee hates what she’s doing to them, but it’s Sweet Pea. It’s Sweet Pea and she would do anything if it meant keeping him safe. Bringing him home.

Her nerves are on edge, but there’s hope there as well, and that’s more than she’s had in weeks.

More than that there’s something off putting in the air. Like with the Blood Moon she can feel it, a dull, electric thrumming that crawls beneath her skin. It’s muted, and no one else appears to notice, but Riverdale feels restless all the same. Jubilee isn’t sure what to make of it. A warning, an unrestrained energy coming from deep within the forest. It leaves her uneasy.

Her mother said that a doorway would open, and perhaps that’s what she’s feeling, the entire earth shifting beneath them, something in the forest changing.

Perhaps Fox Forest knows. The Gods know what happens in their woods, and Jubilee has bled and prayed and wept there, and those things aren’t so easily forgotten. And if they have forgotten Jubilee will make them remember. She’s afraid of nothing anymore. There’s nothing that Fox Forest or the Old Gods could take from her when she’s already lost her heart.

She has nothing left to give.

The morning of the Worm Moon Jubilee wakes to flowers blooming in the cracks of her floorboard and knots tied in her hair. While she would normally tug out the knots, today she leaves them be, keeps them for a little luck. Again, there are thorns on Sweet Pea’s pillow, a single curved stem this time, like that of a rose.

Jubilee doesn’t touch it.

The flowers crawling through the floorboards are tiny and white and look like those that grow on blackthorn trees. The sight of the delicate little petals makes her hands shake. Anger curls inside of her, but she swallows it back, forces it down. She’s had enough of strife and misfortune.

The thorns and flowers may be bad omens, but she won’t let them stop her.

The sky grows dark and that static in the air grows increasingly stronger until it makes her skin itch.

Jubilee closes her eyes, curling her legs beneath her on the bed. She’s wearing the same deep burgundy dress as the last time she went into the woods, her dark hair left to spill around her bare shoulders. She has Sweet Pea’s heart in her hands, held close to her chest, and the color of it bleeds into her dress. The thin, gold lines curling around the bauble are too bright.

She doesn’t react as her bedroom door creaks open slowly. Her mother slips into the room, quiet as ever. Her eyes flit around the low lit room, lips twisting into a frown when she sees the flowers sprouting from the floor. Gladys is careful to avoid them

Gladys watches silently as Jubilee traces one of the swirling gold vines decorating Sweet Pea’s heart. The bauble pulses dimly, warm and so much more alive than it was before. “He died,” Gladys reminds her suddenly. Jubilee’s hands fall still. “Pulling his soul back… there’ll be a darkness around his heart. Like a scar.” She shifts on the bed, facing Jubilee directly, lips pressed into a firm line. “Death will leave its mark. Not all of him will come back.” Gladys takes Jubilee’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “He won’t be the same.”

“I don’t care.” Jubilee smiles at her mother, a sad, broken thing.

Neither of them will be the same, but that won’t make her love him less. They’ve been through too much together for anything to drag them apart, even if it is something like death. It won’t change the way she looks at him and it won’t change the parts of her that have loved him for longer than she can remember. He’s always been ingrained in her, in her veins and imprinted on her skin.

When death took him, it took a part of her too.

Neither say anything else as Gladys looks at her, contemplative as Jubilee continues to trace the smooth surface of the bauble, cradling it close to her chest. Her eyes move over Jubilee slowly, lingering on the delicate lines inked onto her collarbone that weren’t there last they saw each other, and then down to her stomach. It’s with her gaze resting there that Gladys presses her lips into a thin line, the steely look typically residing in her eyes dimming to something much softer.

They haven’t mentioned her pregnancy in all of this, though Jubilee knows they should. It’s dangerous enough with just her. There are things that could go wrong.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Gladys asks her, reaching out and taking one of her hands. She laces their fingers together, squeezing tight as her eyes flit back to Jubilee. “Because, Baby, once you do this you can’t come back.” There’s something almost nervous in Gladys’ eyes, a little strained as she clings to her daughter.

Jubilee takes her lip between her teeth, worrying it as she considers what her mother is saying. Her voice cracks when she finally says “I can’t breathe without him.” The admission only makes her chest ache harder, a force curling around her ribs and squeezing until she chokes. “It’s like there’s a weight on my chest,” she murmurs, still stroking the bauble with her fingers. “An emptiness.”

Gladys sighs and squeezes her hand again. “That’s the cost of giving your heart away… of losing it.” Her hand slips away from Jubilee’s and Gladys wraps an arm around her shoulders. “He took it with him.” Jubilee’s shoulders tremble and a sob sticks in her throat. Gladys hushes her, stroking her hair away from her face. “I never wanted this for you,” she whispers in her ear as she draws Jubilee close to her chest.

Jubilee curls up against Gladys’ chest as her mother strokes her hair, kissing the side of her head. “I didn’t think it would hurt like this,” Jubilee chokes out. She squeezes her eyes shut, trembling. The bauble thrums in her hands, so much like a heartbeat. It’s steady, a rhythmic beat that she knows all too well after so many years.

“I know, Baby,” Gladys breathes back.

The pathway to the Godswood is always changing. There’s no clear path leading to the heart of Fox Forest. It’s too dangerous for that with so many people living in Riverdale. Too many with ill intentions. Ever since Clifford Blossom summoned The Beast with his own son’s blood the tree has been cloaked, hidden away from those who would seek it out. People become lost this deep into the woods. They stray from the path, walk in circles for hours until they walk back out of the forest miles from where they went in, though they couldn’t possibly have gone that far. The Godswood is only found when it wants to be.

And it lets Jubilee find it.

The grass is longer than it was in January, thick and soft and it tickles at her skin as she steps into the clearing. The tree’s roots stretch out wider and the great white trunk is bigger, with branches seeming to sway in a breeze that isn’t there. The leaves rustle in the darkness and the tree hums lowly. Scattered whispers fill the forest. An old tongue long forgotten.

Her stomach twists as she leaves the safety of the edge of the forest, one hand fisted in the fabric of her dress. The clearing is bathed in pale light, the Worm Moon nearly at its peak above the Godswood. A great shadow is cast, stretching wide across the ground, inky wisps reaching towards her.

Jubilee stops at the edge of it, hesitating before she steps into the shadow. She casts one last fleeting look at the moon before she’s engulfed in darkness. The shadows flicker around her, twisting on the ground like they’re alive as she approaches the Godswood, her eyes kept low to the ground in respect. The whispers as she nears the tree and the air grows colder. A shiver wracks her form, but Jubilee clenches her jaw, refusing to let her nerves consume her.

Small, white flowers bloom in the places where she steps.

Clouds cover the moon and the clearing is plunged into a blackness so deep that the darkness hummed with it. The whispers from the Folk cut off abruptly and Jubilee stills, a dozen feet between her and the Godswood. The looming tree looks larger than before, threatening, and the shadows cast by the branches flicker.

An icy hand grips her empty chest and squeezes. The breath is torn from her and everything goes still and quiet. The electricity that’s lingered in the air all week dissipates, replaced with something hollow that makes her ache inside. It’s something she’s only felt once before, sitting there in the snow after the Ghoulies left her, Sweet Pea’s body lying mangled on the ground. For a moment everything was raw and bleeding, her heart ripped from her chest; but then it stopped hurting. A numbness washed everything away.

Jubilee wonders if this is what death feels like. A nothingness from which all else springs. Perhaps she doesn’t want to know.

The clouds drift and the area is one again bathed in pale light.

Slowly, Jubilee reaches behind herself, hand sliding along the belt looped loosely around her waist. Her fingers find the hilt of the small knife her mother gave her for this night. A delicate thing. Thin, with a light etching of vines and roses lining the dull top of the blade. The blade itself is attached to the hilt with filigree of the same swirling vines.

It’s impractical. Pretty, but breakable.

Jubilee holds the knife out in front of her, holding her other palm aloft, faced up towards the moon. The scar from the Blood Moon is stark against her skin. A shaky breath slips from her as she places the delicate edge of the blade against the palm of her hand between her thumb and first finger, lining up the blade perfectly with the healing scar there.

The forest is quiet.

This time, Jubilee says nothing as she drags the blade across her skin. Blood bubbles up from the cut and her fingers curl inward, liquid dripping to the ground from her tight fist. The blood disappears against the roots of the Godswood, soaking into the earth, and Jubilee shivers as it runs in trails down her palm.

It’s an offering to the Old Gods as much as a reminder. Jubilee has bled for them before and she’ll continue to bleed for as long as it takes. And she waits. The moon overhead reaches its highest point and the knife in her hand flashes silver. 

The Worm Moon is clouded over once more and the grove is overwrought with shadows. The darkness encases her and Jubilee sighs, lowering the knife back to her side.

There’s a skittering sound off to her right and she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. Jubilee tenses, holding her breath as a branch snaps somewhere in the darkness. She doesn’t dare move, even as a low breeze stirs, ruffling the tips of her hair gently. Goosebumps erupt across her arms as a warm breath ghosts across the back of her neck, a presence at her back. Her eyes squeeze shut at the feeling but it’s gone just as quickly.

Something snaps directly behind her and Jubilee whips around, the Godswood towering over her at her back as she glares into the surrounding trees, seeing nothing though she feels something there, watching.

“I know you’re there,” Jubilee calls out into the darkness, voice loud above the silence. The rustling and murmuring stop abruptly and Jubilee almost wishes they hadn’t as the darkness presses in around her on all sides, suffocating her. For the briefest of moments it’s all too much. Too heavy. Too quiet. Too empty. And that hollow feeling in her chest grows and grows until it almost consumes her, but she swallows it back. “Come out where I can see you.” It’s a challenge, a dangerous one at that, but Jubilee’s patience has worn thing.

She’s had enough.

“It’s been quite a while,” a voice says behind her, “since someone came seeking me.” It’s a low tone, smooth and warm, like honey, but she knows better than to be deceived by something so gentle. She knows what kinds of Gods lurk in the deep woods, the tricksters, the benevolent, the one they call The Beast.

Jubilee doesn’t know which one is speaking with her now. Most days it’s the benevolent, the playful, the good-natured tricksters, but full moons can bring out those locked away deep in the heart of the forest, banished to the shadows.

She prays she hasn’t made a mistake as she stills, blood dripping down her fingers, the knife still clutched in her other hand, ceremonial and much too delicate. It’s not a fight she’s here for. It’s a bargain. And she isn’t afraid. Courage, Thomas Topaz whispered to her. Jubilee clenches her jaw, her dark eyes hardening as she turns back to the Godswood.

Eyes lock with hers, white and glowing and empty in the darkness. Those eyes stare down at her, peering straight through her and her breath catches in her throat. It doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and Jubilee is pinned in place under its stare. A silhouette is all she can make out, the moon still hidden behind the clouds. The figure is tall, dwarfing her in size, slim and vaguely human in shape.

Behind it the branches of the Godswood move, bending to something that isn’t there.

Panic wells up inside her at the sight. The crushing, aching feeling in her chest grows and she trembles without meaning to under the weight of the Old God’s gaze. It

“Hello, little dark one,” the shadow greets her. It’s head cocks to the side and Jubilee realizes it isn’t branches moving: it’s antlers. It stays hidden in the shadow of the tree, a wraith, nothing but those glowing eyes showing through the dark.

Her mouth goes dry as it looks through her and Jubilee’s skin begins to crawl the longer it holds her gaze. The shadow doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe. Instead it waits, watching Jubilee for a long moment. She steels her nerves, willing herself to speak but the presence of the Old God steals her voice away.

Her hand clenches tighter around her knife and she thinks if she could see the shadows face it would be smiling.

“You look very much like your mother,” it continues when she doesn’t speak, still not moving. Jubilee’s chest goes cold at the observation, her lips twisting into a deep frown.

Even now, Jubilee knows little of her mother’s dealings in the forest. She has her suspicions, but she would never dare to ask. Their kind do what they need in order to survive and worship, even if those things may be reprehensible. Still, it makes her nervous how the spirit seems to recognize her, even if not by name.

Jubilee swallows down her nerves, straightening to her full height, trying not to feel so small beneath the shadow’s gaze even as her hands shake just the slightest. “I’d like to make a deal with you,” she says, firm as she stares into the creature’s pale eyes illuminated in the darkness. She feels foolish as she says it. There are few reasons for people to venture so far into Fox Forest at night.

“I know, little one,” it calls her again. There’s almost something smug about it, placating in the strangest of ways.

It moves then, stepping away from the tree but never leaving its shadow. It straightens, revealing itself to be taller than she thought, and she shivers as the cold night air curls around her, his shoulders left uncovered from the wind that picks up around them.

“The doors of death are open tonight.” The forest begins to whisper again around her, little wisps of words reaching her ears and a sound like laughter. Jubilee clenches her jaw, glaring at the shadow as it continues to stare at her. The murmuring grows louder and louder, more urgent, a warning, and Jubilee can almost make out—

The shadow cocks it’s head to one side, the antlers sprouting from its head suddenly looking bigger, more pointed at the tips, moss and leaves clinging to the bone. “You seek safe passage.”

Jubilee hesitates before responding with, “I do.”

The Old God nods slowly, a gentle hum coming from it. “You know the rules,” it tells her. “Something cannot come from nothing.”

And the trees around them hiss blood for blood. The sound rattles around the forest, passed between the trees until the words swell into a great cacophony of sound only to cut off abruptly.

“How much are you willing to pay?”

Jubilee purses her lips. “As much as it takes.”

She thinks the God smiles at her again. “Brave girl,” it murmurs, low and praising, almost fond in the strangest of ways.

“Tell me what I have to do,” she demands of the spirit, swallowing down contempt.

It observes her for another long moment, and though it has no pupils Jubilee can feel its gaze drag along her form, looking her up and down. Her stomach twists sickly the longer it stares and Jubilee places a protective hand over her belly, shielding it from the creatures gaze. She knows what it may ask of her. She knows the stories, how the wood folk and the Old Gods would steal children from their beds, replace them with something inhuman and wrong. Not for the first time, Jubilee considers what she may be risking with this deal, what it could ask for, but it’s too late for that now.

“Your shoes.” Jubilee falters, hand dropping back to her side at the response. She frowns, looking up at the creature questioningly, searching for a glint of humor in those hollow eyes, but finds nothing but a vast emptiness peering back into her.

“My shoes?” she repeats slowly, still watching the looming beast standing before the Godswood. It’s an odd request, but that isn’t all too uncommon for the folk. They like to play tricks, jokes, cast curses that make people talk in rhyme or forget what they’ve misplaced. They’re fascinated with the little things. “That’s it?”

It shifts its head to the other side. “For now.”

She tenses at the implication, but she has no other options. Slowly, she reaches downward, one fisting in her dress and she lifts the hem. Jubilee slips off one shoe and then the next, gaze never once shifting from the shadow beneath the tree. It doesn’t move to take them and Jubilee takes a breath before forcing herself to move closer. She slips under the shadow of the tree but the Old God still doesn’t react. Jubilee tosses her shoes into the waiting darkness and they never touch the ground.

It reaches out a hand towards her and the clouds above begin to shift, moonlight peaking through, just enough to scatter through the twisting branches of the Godswood. Dark, clawed fingers stretch out towards her, long and thin, and the pale skin of the creature moves as if something is trying to claw its way out.

Jubilee fights to keep her fingers from trembling as the Old God takes her bleeding palm in its hand, the contract sealed in blood. The contact lingers for a moment too long, but she doesn’t dare to pull away first.

The spirit releases Jubilees hand, and the blood dripping from her skin clots, the scar beginning to form once more. Her now bare feet flex against the ground, the grass cold beneath her, a thin frost covering the earth.

The Old God sends her one last linger look before stepping aside and revealing a hole in the center of the Godswood, a hollowed out space where the heart of it should be. She doesn’t dare to look at the god as it steps into the moonlight, allowing her entrance through the doorway.

Hesitating, Jubilee stares into the darkness, no end to it in sight. The trees begin to whisper around her once more, softer, encouraging, and without meaning to Jubilee comes closer. The darkness calls to her, beckoning, and she lets it pull her in deeper until her bloodied palm presses against the rough bark of the tree. She stops just before entering, shivering as a breeze wraps around her, wind coming from inside the hollow trunk.

“Stay on the path, little one,” it warns her, surprisingly gentle.

Jubilee slips the ceremonial knife back through her belt, lifting the hem of her dress as she steps up, placing one foot on the lip of the hollow, ready to descend. “How long do I have?” she asks the Old God as it watches her in the corner of her eye.

It turns away from her, staring up at the full moon, soft light now flooding the clearing. Its antlers quiver, moss and dirt flaking from the ancient bones. “Until the sun rises,” it answers after a moment, not turning back to face her again. “Better hurry.”

Nodding, Jubilee stares into the darkness, a slow, shaky breath slipping from her. “Thank you.”

Those hollow eyes shift back to her. She can feel it. “Little one,” it whispers as she slips into the shadows, “don’t look back.”

The ground beneath her is cold and damp but solid as Jubilee lets the darkness swallow her, the moonlight from the glade dimming the further she wanders down the stone path. It’s a tight space, a tunnel winding down lower and lower until she isn’t sure there’s any end at all. Jubilee has never been claustrophobic, but it’s hard to breathe in the narrow passage between the rocks and it makes her dizzy.

Distantly, she considers this may be a trick, but she’s always known the Gods to be true to their words. A deal in blood is something that can never be broken. The Gods may not be fair or just, they may not have morals, but there are rules, ancient and carved in bone. The old laws are firm and even the Gods wouldn’t dare to defy them.

Besides, Jubilee knew what she was getting into. She knew the risks and she was willing to take the change regardless of the consequences. Perhaps that makes her foolish, or reckless, or desperate, but she doesn’t care.

Stepping into the darkness feels like coming home.

Jubilee loses all time wandering down the dark path. It’s slow going, the tunnel leading to the underground full of sharp turns. Her fingertips trail along the wall beside her and small rocks dig into the flesh of her bare feet, but the sting of it doesn’t stop her as she continues.

Undergrowth forms behind her as she moves. Wildflowers bloom in the cracks of the pathway and ivy crawls along the walls, trailing after her. The hem of her dress catches on thorns, tearing at the fabric, but Jubilee pays it no mind, trying to peer through the darkness even after the light goes out.

Whispers rise from the depths of the underground, ancient spirits rising from the old bones resting in the earth. They speak in a language she doesn’t understand, soft as they string words together, until it becomes a soothing hush around her. The voices almost sing, a low, melancholy sound as she walks into death. It’s a warning perhaps, or an old song long forgotten. Perhaps the souls of the lost are cry out for help she could never offer them.

Acushla, they whisper after her. Darling. Pulse.

She stumbles through the darkness for minutes, hours, the time bleeding together without the Worm Moon to guide her. She’s lost to time and panic strikes her in the center of her chest. Jubilee could already be too late. She doesn’t know how long the winding path between her world and the underground is, or how long it might take to get back. It could be a fool’s errand she’s on, but Jubilee wouldn’t know until it’s far too late.

She has until the dawn, until the sky bleeds with color with the first rays of light. Seven hours roughly, from when she entered the woods just shy of midnight. She can make it. She has to, there are no other options, none that she’s ready to accept.

The voices follow her down the winding path, nipping at her heels, and the thorns continue to tear at her skin and dress, cutting into her legs, but she pushes through, ignoring the pain and the panic, letting the pull of the bond guide her as the path begins to branch, letting it take her home to her heart, to him.

So she wanders through the darkness, trusting her soul to find him even now. She could recognize him anywhere.

She comes across a door. Large and dark, golden filigree tracing along the outer edges. There’s something behind it, and the blood-bond urges her to move forward, but she hesitates. A dark energy thrums on the other side, and Jubilee knows what she’s reached.

The Doors of Death.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jubilee shoves the doors open wide. They creak and moan as she forces the to open, but allow her the entry she demands.

The room she enters is unlike anything she’s ever seen, but not unexpected. It’s dark, lit by dim flames along the walls of an open cavern. It’s cold and damp and the air smells of the deep ground, musky and thick. The trail of wildflowers following her ends where she’s pushed open the doors, the blackthorn turning to thorn when she steps over the threshold.

The air is still this far down, and there’s a pressure on her chest, a ringing in her ears. She feels numb again this far into the earth, through the doors of death, empty inside.

That emptiness vanishes when she sees him.

He’s standing with his back is to her, but she knows it’s him. Jubilee would recognize him anywhere, in any life and any death, through it all.

The breath is knocked from her lungs when she sees him there, tall and shoulders broad, dressed the same as he was that night in the park. His flannel is ripped and worn and he’s covered in dirt, but he’s as perfect as she remembers. And more than that he’s real and there and it’s like pieces of herself are coming home when she looks at him.

Jubilee steps further into the room, the doors staying open wide behind her. She walks down the steps leading down from the door slowly, unable to shift her eyes away from him as he stares off into the darkness. Her dress slips out from where it’s been caught in her fist, hem dragging across the floor as she descends the steps, drinking in the sight of him.

When she reaches the bottom there’s only a dozen steps between them, but he still feels too far away, within reach but not nearly close enough. Jubilee stills there, staring at his shoulders. He’s taller than she remembers, broader, and it must be a trick of her mind.

“Sweet Pea,” she calls out gently, softer than she means to, hesitating only a few feet away from him. She prays this isn’t a cruel trick, that she hasn’t made a deal for nothing.

He glances over his shoulder at the sound of her voice, confusion flashing in his eyes when he sees her standing there. For a moment he doesn’t move, only looks at her, drinking in the sight of her. “Jubilee?” he murmurs, turning around to face her slowly. Disbelief flickers in his dark eyes.

“It’s you,” she breathes. “It’s really you.” She takes another step towards him, but freezes suddenly. Sweet Pea flickers at the edges, as the flames along the walls move, a shadow in his own right. He’s faint, not all there. It’s only his soul she’s seeing now, a ghost. “Oh, Sweet Pea,” she says softly, chest aching for him.

He takes a step towards her, eyes raking over her frame rapidly, checking to see if she’s okay. “Jubilee,” he says again, tasting her name on his tongue. “Baby, what are you—” He cuts off abruptly and something like horror flashes in the depths of his eyes. “No,” he shakes his head, “no, no, no—you can’t—”

“I’m okay,” she tells him gently, reassuring as she takes another step. He looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe it. “I’m okay.” She reaches for him when they’re close enough but her fingers only graze his before slipping away, as if he isn’t there at all. He’s cold and shadows bloom under his eyes, making him look tired, thin in the face. Her fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to pull him down to her and keep him close, but she can’t and that kills her a little inside.

Sweet Pea is the one to reach out. His long fingers just barely ghost against her cheek. Jubilee can almost feel him there, the memory of his touch blooming on her skin. He stares at his hand, at the space left between them. It’s too much. He can’t touch her. “I’m dreaming,” he decides, shaking his head as his hand drops back to his side. Sweet Pea’s shoulders slump, defeat shadowing his eyes.

His expression makes her heart break. Jubilee tries again to take his hand, but he slips through her fingers, more shadow than man. “You’re not,” she promises, shaking her head when he takes a half-step away from her.

Around them the flames flicker, shadows dancing along the walls. They reflect in his eyes, making them glossy. He towers over her, searching her own eyes, cagey and nervous before they slide back down her frame. It’s like a physical touch and she shivers beneath his gaze, wanting nothing more than to hold him to her, but she can’t. He seems resigned to this as well, fingers flexing at his sides, an impatient habit he’s had for as long as she’s known him. Jubilee has always found it endearing.

“How are you here?” Sweet Pea murmurs, returning to her, stepping in close until he’s nearly pressed flush against her with and she has to crane her head back to look him in the eyes. The tips of his fingers drag along her spine through her dress as he reaches around her. Goosebumps erupt across her skin at the gentle touch and she closes her eyes as his hand moves higher. Sweet Pea’s fingers curl through her hair and it’s as close as they can possibly be given the circumstances.

A slow sigh pulls from her lips as his fingers work through the tangles in her hair, his hand cupping the back of her neck. “It doesn’t matter,” she tells him, forcing her eyes open to meet his once more. Her palms slide up his sides and she fists his flannel in her hands.

And it doesn’t matter, not to her. How she’s here isn’t important. All that matters is that she’s found him. Even now, just looking at him, she can feel the missing pieces of herself coming back together. The hole in her chest doesn’t close, not completely, but it’s enough. Somehow it’s enough.

“Baby, what did you do?” Sweet Pea asks her, shaking his head, brows furrowing. His hand loosens in her hair and he starts to pull back, but she tightens her grip on his shirt, bowing her head and refusing to meet his eyes.

“I made a deal,” is all she tells him, avoiding his questioning stare. Sweet Pea goes rigid against her as he sucks in an angry breath, hissing between his teeth. His hand drops from the back of her head and he steps away from her, glaring down at her. Her eyes rise to meet his and she returns his look, pursing her lips as his jaw flexes in irritation.

He shakes his head. “No.”

Jubilee sighs, wrapping her arms around herself as he steps away from her. She should have known better than to think he would make this easy. He’s never been anything but stubborn. Already she knows what he’s thinking. He’s always been a martyr. He’s always tried to protect her, even at the cost of his own life. And now he thinks he needs to do so again. This time she’s not going to let him.

“Sweet Pea,” she coos, trying to placate him, reaching for him again, but he takes another step back.

“Jubilee, why would you—”

“I had to,” she snaps, cutting him off. All of that anger that’s been building in her chest over the last month spills over. She lost him. She almost lost herself. And Jubilee can’t do that, not again. “And don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t do the same damn thing.” Her eyes squeeze shut and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “It was the only way to make sure…” Jubilee shakes her head, looking up at him again. “You can come home,” she tells him, barely above a whisper. “Come home,” she begs, eyes glossy.

Sweet Pea looks down at her, apologetic, and she knows what he’s going to say even before the words leave him, and her chest squeezes painfully “No, Jubilee.”

“Sweets—”

“I won’t let you be bound to their rules,” Sweet Pea tells her firmly. There’s resignation there, defeat. He’s already given up, exhaustion in his eyes. The fight has gone out of him after so long underground.

Jubilee swallows down the growing lump in her throat, her stomach flipping, unsettled by her nerves. She curls tighter around herself. “Don’t do this,” Jubilee pleads again, releasing a quivering breath.

Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment longer, fingers curling at his sides, as if he wants to touch her but knows he can’t. Not really, anyway. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he says, so much softer than she’s ever heard him before. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You have to let me go, Sweetheart.”

She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut tightly. Her throat goes tight, eyes itching and rimmed red. “I can’t,” she tells him. Fingers ghost against her cheek, close and cold and coaxing her to look at him again, and Sweet Pea smiles down at her, a broken little thing that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You can.” His thumb brushes against her lips before his hand drops back to his side. She shakes her head again, and Sweet Pea breathes out her name, a trembling gasp as he leans down, forehead pressing against hers.

“I can’t,” she repeats, louder this time, voice cracking as a sob wells in her throat. Her hands come up to cup his face, pulling him down closer as she pushes up on her toes, wanting to stay there forever. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

His breath fans over her face and his knuckles slide across her cheek, brushing her hair away from her eyes gently. “Jubilee,” he sighs. His shoulders slump but he still doesn’t cave.

Jubilee’s stomach lurches sickly once more. “Come home?” she asks him. His thumb brushes against her lips again. “I need you.” She searches for his free hand, hooks her fingers through his and guides his hand to her stomach. Jubilee presses the flat of his palm against her still flat stomach. “We need you,” she corrects herself and he goes still against her.

Sweet Pea sucks in a sharp breath and pulls his forehead away from hers slowly, putting just enough space between them to look at her. His eyes search hers questioningly. “You—” He cuts himself off before he can say it out loud, glancing between her face and his hand on her stomach. “Jubilee?”

For a second guilt wells inside her. It isn’t a lie, but it feels like she’s manipulating him, tricking him, but she doesn’t know else to get him to follow her. How else to get him to stay with her.

“I won’t leave without you,” she tells him, placing her hand over his and watching the emotions that flicker in his eyes, shock and awe and so much affection it makes her chest hurt. His fingers spread wide, covering as much of her stomach as he can. Jubilee slots her fingers through his, so close to touching him. “I’m not losing you.” Her thumb brushes the back of his hand. “Not again.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring down at her hand covering his. “You won’t.” His free hand cradles her cheek, thumb sweeping across her skin, and she sighs at the gentle touch, the feel of his calloused palm against her, rough and familiar, something she’s dearly missed since she lost him. Jubilee leans into him, eyes fluttering shut as he leans down to press his lips against her temple, lingering.

Eventually they pull away. Jubilee keeps her fingers locked through his and he grips her back twice as fierce as leads him to the doors, walking backwards and pulling him along with her. He follows willingly, letting her guide him, trusting her as he always has.

Jubilee forces herself to turn away from him, staring up at the open doors before her, the pathway that will lead them both home.

He slips through her fingers again, and a voice in the back of her mind warns her not to look back at him, not to turn around no matter how much it hurts not to. Because she’s only just found him and she couldn’t handle losing him again, not so quickly. Not after everything they’ve gone through. They deserve to rest now.

A hand settles low on the center of her back, Sweet Pea holding her steady as she hovers just outside of the doors leading back to their world. His hand slides around her, the tips of his fingers just grazing the side of her stomach.

“I’m right here, Baby,” he whispers against her ear, breath fanning across her skin. “I’m right here.” His touch disappears as she steps through the doors, and panic rises in her throat, but she swallows it back, trusting him to be there.

The cold air of the tunnel surrounds her once again, and the trail of flowers blooming in the cracks between the rocks greet her. And she runs. She isn’t afraid anymore, not of falling and not of taking the wrong path. There’s magic in these tunnels, deep magic, the kind only found in the forgotten corners of the world, the kind that has to be locked away. And it’s because of that deep magic that Jubilee doesn’t stumble in the darkness. She doesn’t fall or slip and the thorns on the ground stop reaching for her, retreating into the darkness from where it came.

Jubilee doesn’t know how long she runs, her lungs burning, legs aching, but eventually they reach the hollow in the Godswood, left open like it was promised to be. The Old God kept it’s word to her; and Jubilee is going to keep her’s as well.

She owes them that much.

Even now, she can’t quiet believe it. She can see moonlight and the pressure from the deep ground recedes until she can breathe again. Jubilee feels more alive than she ever has before. It doesn’t change what happened that night in February. It won’t stop that shadow from settling over their hearts, but at least they’ll be together again.

They’re going home.

Just as quickly her joy dissipates and her steps slow, the end of the path only a few steps away.

She can’t hear him behind her.

Sweet Pea has never been a silent person, tall and strong and heavy on his feet, even when he would try not to be. But she can’t hear him, can’t feel him there behind her, and it makes her blood run cold. They’ve come to far for him not to be there, and Jubilee can’t help in when raw fear rips through her. Her hands tremble as she comes to a halt, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

She wants to look, to check, but the Old God’s warning stays her. She knows better than to ignore it, not when it could mean losing him forever. If it takes him again she won’t come back.

Jubilee takes a deep breath, forcing down the panic that he might not be there. She murmurs a prayer in the old tongue as she braces her hands against the edge of the hollow of the tree, the doorway opened wide for them to slip through. She still can’t feel him behind her, can’t hear him, but she pushes down her doubts, having faith that the Old Gods will keep their bargain.

Slowly, she slips back through the hollow, sighing as she feels the cold, damp grass beneath her. Jubilee steps out into the moonlight, the Worm Moon still shining overhead, dawn far off. They’ve made it. A breathless laugh tumbles from Jubilee’s mouth, a genuine smile spreading across her face. Jubilee twists on her heel, already reaching out for Sweet Pea.

The shade following behind her disappears and everything goes black.

She wakes at the base of the Godswood, gasping for breath with an ache in her chest.

Jubilee is on her stomach, lying prone across the forest floor with her long skirt tangled around her legs, her feet bare and damp. Dirt clings to her dress and to her skin, as if she’s crawled straight from the earth. Leaves and needles from the pines stick to her, biting into her skin from the forest floor.

Above her, the sky is still dark, the sun only just beginning to breach the horizon. The sunrise flickers through the trees, casting shadows across the ground.

Jubilee pushes herself up onto her hands, her stomach rolling at the sudden movement. She sucks in a sharp breath, pressing her palm against her side as a sharp stab of pain rips through her side. It leaves her breathless and gasping for a moment, her entire body aching suddenly.

Folding her legs beneath her as she sits up, Jubilee brushes her long, tangled hair away from her face, staring up at the tree. The hollow is gone, the doorway sealed, just like it should be. Her eyes sweep across the clearing, but nothing has changed, everything as she can remember.

She’s alone.

Sweet Pea isn’t here. He isn’t here.

Her hands shake, fingers digging into the soft earth and she looks around wildly, but there’s no one there. No one but her. A sob bubbles up in her throat, tearing from somewhere deep in her chest before she can stop it. Her entire body trembles with the force of it.

She’s failed. She’s lost him again, if she ever had him at all.

Her heart breaks for the second time in as many months. Jubilee can feel it rip from her chest and shatter just as it did before. It leaves her empty inside, drained, and Jubilee can do nothing but curl into herself and cry. Exhaustion settles into her bones and she leans against the Godswood, wishing it would open once again and swallow her whole.

Movement at the edge of the clearing catches her eye and Jubilee snaps around, going very still when familiar, glowing eyes lock with hers from the shadow of a tree. The Old God stares back at her, blending in with the trees so seamlessly that Jubilee knows she’s only seeing it now because it wants to be seen. She waits for it to move again, or speak, or gloat if this has been a trick all along, but it only watches from the edge of the woods.

What do you want? is what she wants to ask, to scream at it if it’s here to taunt her. Because she’s suffered enough. Because she can’t do it anymore. “Where is he?” Jubilee chokes out instead, her mouth dry and her tongue thick and heavy.

It shouldn’t be able to hear her, not from so far away, but the Gods head tilts to one side as it regards her with an empty expression. “Where all deals are made,” it tells her, voice soft and close, spoken into her ear and making her shiver. It doesn’t linger, turning away as soon as the words reach her.

It disappears into the trees, a shadow.

“Crossroads,” Jubilee breathes back.

He wakes with her heart in his hand, gasping for breath with a burning in his chest.

Sweet Pea breathes for the first time in over a month and the cold March air stings his lungs as they expand. He inhales too deeply too soon and wheezes, sputtering out a hacking cough as dust stirs inside him. Dropping onto his back, boneless and exhausted, Sweet Pea stares up at the sky, watching as the color above bleed red and gold in the early morning light.

For a moment he can’t remember where he is or why he’s here. He’s lying in the dirt, surrounded by tall grass with the last traces of snow melting away and wildflowers crawling out of the earth to take its place. Fox Forest looms off in the distance, the air still and quiet. It’s peaceful so early in the morning, all of Riverdale still asleep, the day only just beginning. A fog is settled over the fields.

And then he remembers. The cold night in the snow. The Ghoulies. Promising Jubilee everything would be okay. He remembers the pain, the deep ache that settled inside him, the snapping of bones. He remembers when it stopped hurting and everything went dark for the last time, waking somewhere unfamiliar and cold, an emptiness inside of him.

Sweet Pea remembers he was dead.

He trembles with the realization, feeling sick as it comes back to him. His time in the underground was brief compared to most, but the chill of it still clings to him tightly, buried inside him so deep he’s afraid it will never come back out. Sweet Pea tries to piece it all together, but his memory of the place is foggy. The days ran together, all sense of time lost to him. It’s the emotions that stay with him. The anger. The fear. The pain. The feeling of his heart being torn from his chest.

On the good days he remembers Jubilee, bright and beautiful with her hands on his skin and her lips on his, only for her to turn to shadow and slip away from him.

His gaze shifts to the side, locking on the small, glass sphere nestled in the palm of his hand, pale and silver and whole once again. Even after all months it’s been his it still seems so fragile against the rough skin of his hands, the glass so thin and breakable. His chest seizes up as he looks at it, his throat tightening. His tattooed thumb traces one of the delicate, swirling green vines creeping along the sides of it.

The bauble warms in his hand, beating for the first time since that night in early February, and his long fingers curl around it to keep it safe, nearly covering it completely.

Sweet Pea wonders if she ever got his.

Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet, struggling as the shift in balance makes his stomach roll. Mud and leaves cling to him as he stands, his clothes ripped and worn, blood staining the old flannel shirt wrapped around his frame. Rocks and twigs dig into the soles of his feet.

He spins in a slow circle, breathing heavily as he takes in the world around him, so, so alive. A breathless laugh tumbles from his mouth and his grip on Jubilee’s heart tightens just a fraction, the familiar weight of it comforting.

He’s in the middle of two roads, old and worn, dirt with grass beginning to grow along the path once again, caught in the place they meet.

Jubilee finds him at the crossroads.

He’s standing with his back to her once more, staring up at the sky as the sun rises over the field. He’s a silhouette from so far away, facing the sunrise and standing in the intersection of two old roads, waiting. The long grass is bathed in light that reflects off the low hanging morning fog, the world beginning to stir around them; everything turns gold.

Her steps slow as she walks down the road behind him, kicking up the dirt. He doesn’t notice her there, too busy looking at the sun for the first time in nearly two months, soaking in the light around him. A slow smile quirks at her lips. She can’t see his face, but she can imagine the joy in his eyes.

Jubilee wraps her arms around her middle, leaving the hem of her skirt to drag against the ground, uncaring of the tears in the fabric or the blood sticking to her skin. The cut across her palm stings, having reopened sometime in the course of the journey downward. It hurts, but she’s alive. They’re both alive.

In this moment nothing else matters.

She stops when there’s only a few feet of space between them, simply watching him for a moment, though there’s nothing she wants more than to hold him, to feel him against her and never let go. “Sweet Pea,” she says gently, calling out to him in a sweet voice.

At the sound of his name, Sweet Pea looks over his shoulder, eyes locking on hers. His expression brightens when he sees her standing there. He turns slowly, eyes never leaving hers as he faces her directly. “Jubilee,” he whispers back, the words lost in the space between them. He looks at her like she’s a dream, like he’s asking if she’s real.

She nods jerkily, a sob sticking in her throat as she laughs. A smile lights up her face as their eyes meet and a warmth blossoms in her chest. He continues to stare like he doesn’t quite believe she’s there, and Jubilee murmurs his name again, taking another step towards him and reaching out with one hand.

Sweet Pea is faster. They collide in a messy rush and Jubilee throws her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist, yanking her right off the ground. She laughs again, clinging to him as she buries her face against his shoulder, dangling a foot off the ground as he crushes her against him. His grip is tight around her middle, fingers digging into her hips so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t care. He’s there and real and holding her together as she sobs into his shoulder.

He chokes out her name again, whispering it against her hair as he leans into her. Sweet Pea places her back on her feet, bending down to her height. For a moment they both just stare at one another, unable to move or breathe. Jubilee’s arms unwind from around him, her hands cupping his cheeks. Sweet Pea’s eyes slip shut briefly as her soft fingers graze his skin.

She says his name again and he pulls her flush against his chest, lips meetings hers in a desperate, wanting kiss. She sighs against him, feeling like she’s whole again for the first time in months. Her arms wrap around her tight, surrounding her, and his mouth chases hers as he tilts her head back.  Jubilee’s fingers fist in his hair, holding him against her as he deepens the kiss, drinking in the sweet honey and raspberry taste of her.

Sweet Pea holds her steady with one arm banded around her back and her hands move lower, sliding around to cup his cheeks and cradle him close to her.

He doesn’t pull away until their lungs are screaming for air, and even then he doesn’t go far. Sweet Pea presses his forehead against hers, breath shaky against her lips.

“I found you,” Jubilee whispers when she’s caught her breath. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the hand on the back of her head slips around to her cheek, his thumb sweeping across the skin beneath her eye.

Sweet Pea chuckles, low and throaty and her heart skips in her chest. “I’m home,” he tells her, kissing her gently.

[smoresmoresmore]

Will edit later

I just have to say

I was possibly exposed to Rabies and came to Tumblr for help and advice and was THOROUGHLY AND DISTURBINGLY DISAPPOINTED WITH THE RABIES TAG.

Omg

I was convinced I was going to die and searching anything Rabies related was UNHELPFUL AF. Not judging but y'all did not help lol.

Very long explanation of why I thought I was going to die:

Waking up to a bat (2 nights in a row) is not automatic cause to assume you will die but it is, I found out after talking to the Dept. Of Agriculture and their Epidemiologist, an immediate cause to go straight to the ER and get shot up with the vaccine and immunoglobulin so you DON'T POTENTIALLY DIE. It is not something the doctors can argue against and it is not something you should postpone. Especially since I was "under the influence" (Nyquil) at the time and even less likely to notice if I had gotten scratched or bitten. My being unaware was the key point in the urgency of going to the ER.

The ER doc was highly annoyed I knew just what to say ("I woke up with a bat in my face") and he grumpily admitted he was bound to follow CDC protocol. His annoyance was so obvious he repeatedly told me how unlikely it was I was bit and explained how "intense" the shots would be. I assume he felt the medicine could be put to better use on someone who was 100% sure and/or was injured. When I asked him what would happen to me if I WAS bitten and didn't get the shot like he wanted, he sighed and admitted "Well, you die."

"Well, shoot me up, doc!"

That night I got 7 shots. One in my arm, which hurt so bad--I guess because my nurse was new and may habe gone too deep because the subsequent shots I have gotten in the same arm haven't been anywhere near as painful-- and 6 in my buttcheeks. 3 in each.

Waking up from my Nyquil coma to a bat in my face was not fun. I had never related to those movie scenes of people screaming and running around afraid if bats. But jessuz. They are fast. And this one was swooping around my living room and deliberately getting super close to me. I had to hide under my blanket and in my fevered state this made me sweat. Trying to herd it to my now opened windows did not help. I tried to call police, fireman andnanimal control; the 1st two were useless and the 3rd was not open at 1am.

Eventually I reached out to my townie facebook group and got advice. White towels attract them. Or make it dark and quiet and hide--I did this as I was not going to run around with a towel in my undies like that video--which worked. 2 very concerned people urged me to go to a doctor.

"You say you have flu-like symptoms and a constant fever and you sleep in that room a lot. You really need to go to the ER. Rabies is so dangerous."

And after 2 nights of dealing with bats and my fever spiking right around the time they show up, I existed in a dark hole of stress. So much so that the second morning I woke up to my hand twitching erratically and my thumb muscle spasming and I started bawling. I had already gotten the shots the day before so I knew if I encountered anything rabid I should be okish (I still had 3 more to go before I was fully protected) but now, with my glitchy hand, I was panicking about "WHAT IF I ALREADY HAD IT?!"

Urgent Care had ruled out Strep twice for my odd sickness and had assured me I have a random virus and to just stay in bed for a few days. Which I had been doing faithfully, before getting bored and moving to my livingroom nest. I like to sleep in there a lot and often do when the weather is nice. I just made sure to drink water and tea and get sunlight and all the things. Including Nyquil. But my fevers were getting worse. I was feeling like crap. And now what we all assumed to be A Normal Virus was morphing into my worst nightmare.

Probably egged on by 101 temperatures, I called around until someone was willing to explaon to me whether I was dying or not. Getting told "You'll be fine. It is SO RARE," did not calm me down. I needed someone to explain how the long incubation period (months to a year) and symptoms (flu like, emotional, twitchy) did not match me.

I slept in that room on accident and on purpose since moving in almost 9 months ago. I'm a heavy sleeper and don't wake up easily. Iffff I had been bitten during one of my all-nighters doing math homework or essay writing, it makes sense I would suddenly get a random "virus" that isn't going away. I had it all worked out in my head. I was getting headaches in the sun and stores. I forced myself outside and out and about when I felt ok because fuck it if I was going to let this be a symptom I had. I was getting anxious in the shower but, knowing fear of water was a symptom, I forced myself to stay in it. (Turns out my paranoia was right. The water was starting to be hard and my skin was breaking out. It is very annoying. The timing was just horrendous)

All the doctors and nurses kindly told me I was safe since I had started the shots but no one had an answer for me when I asked if they helped if I hadddd it already. They weren't sure. The amount of information they have or are willing to share is astonishingly low.

After 2 hours of phone tag I was finallly able to get an appointment with an Infectious Disease Doctor. She told me that if I did have it there was no real evidence about the vaccine helping, especially since I had only had the first dose at that point. She told me it would be fast though and they couldn't tell until "you're foaming at the mouth." She asked to look in my mouth and when I told her about my drooliness she said to let her know if it got worse. She asked about my hand. I told her. She asked about numbness and I freaked cuz my arm did go numb at one point.

I askwd her about tests. I had read that there were a few--spinal fluid, spit, blood--that were not really reliable. She said since I had the vaccine and immunoglobulin in my system already they would show up and it would be pointless.

My only option was to wait. And chill. And try not to dwell on the fact that there is no answer or cure or way to find out if I should plan my trip to Oregon and die or if I should allow my boyfriend to visit me.

He was firmly in the You Don't Have Rabies camp and came over anyway to feed me soup and hang out. But I refused to kiss him. It made him very sad and probably extremely exasperated.

My boss was so done with me when he asked if I could come in the next day. "Sasha. You cannot have Rabies. Just come to work. You'll be fine." And I realized how crazy I sounded but I still warned all my coworkers.

Anyway, my lowgrade fever continued, my twitchiness stopped, my drooling stopped, my water was hard so I avoided the shower but cleaned my good bits, and once I doubled up my water intake my headaches disappeared. I went into a mini death spiral for a day but decided to force myself into believing I was fine.

When I started getting confused and fainty, I bought Iron supplements. When I started getting angry and anxious, I called my friends and got distracted. When it was time to get another shot, I made sure to update everyone of the weirdness Just In Case.

One nurse took the time to sit me down and listwn. That's really all I needed since no one had answers. I just needed my mind soothed and concerns not dismissed. She couldn't explain the muscle spasm but could definitely see why I was freaking out. She was the one who tested me for peace of mind. She looked into Lyme disease. She found my anemia. She explained that the amount of time that had elapsed made her sure I was going to be ok. She had watched people die in Africa from this and shw said it happens So Fast it is tragic. I would not be able to organize a trip to Oregon to die. I would become incoherent and slip away within days.

That was what I needed. A timeframe. A legit explanation of what it looks like and how it happens. And why I don't fit. This whole time I had been wondering how to tell my friends. Whether I could write all their numbers down in case I couldnt function enough to call them or remember my phone password. I was planning on cleaning my apartment so good so the landlord couldn't bash me when I was bouncing off the walls and hissing at him. I was deciding who I really needed to contact and who I could live without wasting breath on. I was planning a goodbye party. I told all 3 of my lovers ("´hey, I have this thing there is no real test for while you're alive but there is once you die so you can't get tested, and you may have it so got get shot up but no one is sure if that will help much," but I did tell them and it was hilarious to them. My favorite response being "RIP" and "F") And this all had put me in such a dark place that, coupled with a few shitty days at work with my bully of a manager, I also asked for a psych person to visit me after the Rabies shot.

After her talk I was like, oh. Thank godddd. And kinda annoyed at having to wait an extra hour in the ER for a talk that could wait til morning. But I chatted with rhem and asked for referral to a shrink since this had just highlighted how much I need help with my anxiety. Especially since the temporary issue of Rabies was being resolved but my cruel manager was still going to exist now that I was going to survive this beef with nature. It was nice to think of that way "my rabies beef is getting cooked" and the pscyh lady got me help. So that was nice. I just mainly needed to get healthy again so I could

I mean. Almostbarelybutnotreally facing a cruel death was a great way to look at life and reflect on some things. There are messes I am not at fault for, messes I avoid that I shouldn't, people and things I value and the objects that matter to me more than others for ridiculous reasons. I was so grateful to the staff for putting up with me. And for you for reading.

All of this just to say

Circle circle dot dot

Soon I get my last Rabies Shot

[girls-scenarios]

Your Name on My Heart

Idol: Lua (Weki Meki)

Prompt: Could you do a WeMe Lua soulmate(?) scenario where everyone has their soulmate’s names on their wrist but Lua was born without it

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: Picky Picky is a bop y’all. But being a Lua stan means living off scraps and the behind the scenes videos. Sigh. When will she be given the lines and attention she deserves? Anyway, stan Weki Meki and I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: I also kind of made this a college au so there’s some drinking, some getting high, and some mentions of getting laid but no actual getting laid.

♡ Tip Jar♡ 

When Lua was born without a name on her wrist, her parents weren’t too worried. After all, it was normal for kids to not get their name until puberty sometimes. Both of her parents had been late to get each other’s name on their wrist, so it was hardly something to make a big deal about. They took her home and didn’t notice anything was wrong. Her classmates didn’t notice, either, not at first. She just figured she was a little late.

But as she started to get older and nothing showed up, people began to notice. Her friends started to ask her where her soulmate’s name was, and she noticed her parents whispering behind their hands when they thought she wasn’t listening, voices worried. On her fifteenth birthday, her parents took her to the doctor, and she knew something had to be wrong.

They ran tests on her, rubbed at the skin and made her look at photos and spit into tubes, only for the doctor to come back and sigh as he flipped through his papers.

“Well, it could either be that she doesn’t have a soulmate,” he said, shaking his head, “or she could have a disorder we call Carpi Praesent. Basically, this would mean that the name on her wrist won’t show up until she’s shared a kiss with her soulmate.”

“A kiss?” Her mother let out a little cry and sunk into the chair, face white. Immediately, her father took her hand, trying to calm her down, while Lua stared at the papers in the doctor’s hand, her mind reeling. She didn’t have a soulmate. Tears pricked at the sides of her eyes and she found herself crying as the doctor reached over to put a hand on her shoulder and her father handed her tissues.

“This doesn’t mean you can’t be happy one day, Lua. But it does mean that your life might be a little bit harder than everyone else’s. You’re a strong girl, aren’t you? You’ll be okay.”

She wasn’t a strong girl. She knew she wasn’t, because these words hurt her, and looking at her parents hurt even worse, because she knew she might never have this. But she had to be strong, so she nodded her head and willed herself to stop crying as her mother asked the doctor if it was because of something she did while she was pregnant.

After the doctor’s visit, Lua told her friends that she had a disease where the name wouldn’t show up. What she didn’t say was that she might not have a soulmate, because she didn’t want anyone else to know. It made her mother cry at night, and it made her father’s hair go grey in places, and it made her grandmother look at her with pity in her eyes, so Lua couldn’t bear for anyone else to know. If anyone had to be hurt, it should be her, not her friends.

So she grinned and pretended that everything was okay, even if she was crying inside.

-

Years later, Lua had gotten a lot more used to not having a soulmate. Sure, she looked at her coworkers and her friends and saw them with their soulmates and felt a little bit jealous, but she didn’t take it so personally anymore. She worked hard to gain respect and not be known for her lack of a soulmate. Medical school was hard, but she didn’t have to worry about love or a relationship or anything outside of school, so she didn’t really mind it. When people asked her why she was going into medicine, she just shrugged and told them that it was because she was interested in it. She didn’t say that it was because she didn’t want anyone else to suffer like she did when she was younger.

Then she met you.

It was pure coincidence, really. You weren’t in medical school, but somehow, the two of you had ended up volunteering for the same school fundraiser and had been put at a table together. You were a fairly upbeat person with a nice smile and a friendly personality, and Lua found it amazing how quickly the two of you clicked. It was just easy to talk to you, almost like she’d known you her entire life. The two of you spent the entire fundraiser talking, and after it was done and the sun had long disappeared, you typed your number into her phone and told her to text with you a smile. And as she walked back to her dorm, looking down at your name in her phone, she found that she really wanted to.

Even though the two of you were in completely different areas of study, it just became habit to meet up in the mess hall for lunch between classes. Sometimes the two of you chatted, complaining about professors and homework loads, and other times the two of you studied together, just happy to be with each other as you worked. It was a weird dynamic, but it worked. Lua never felt awkward around you. The two of you could sit silently in a room together and still feel comfortable, and Lua liked that. Liked being around you. She tried not to think too much about what that could mean.

A few times, the thought of dating you popped into her head, and she realized that she’d never seen your wrist mark. But she would quickly dismiss it as coincidence every time, not wanting to get her hopes up over nothing. So the two of you danced around each other, staying friends even if her other friends thought it was weird, neither of you taking the next step.

That is, until the party.

“Hey, are you busy Friday night?” You asked her, looking up from your textbook to lock eyes with her. She was laying on her bed, reading up on terms for her next exam while you occupied her desk, a normal setup for the two of you whenever you studied in her room. She blinked, trying to think about what her schedule looked like. She was pretty sure she was free, but....

“Why?”

You looked a little bit nervous as you shrugged your shoulders, but she hardly recognized it. “Oh, one of my friends is throwing a party to celebrate the end of midterms. I thought I’d ask you to come with me. It’s cool if you’re busy though.”

“I think I’m free. Is it going to be a big party?” She closed her book, biting her lip. She’d never been to anything other than small parties with her friends where they all drank a little bit and played games and watched movies. When it came to big college parties, she was in the dark. You laughed softly and nodded your head, making her heart jump a bit.

“Yeah, she’s in a sorority, so it’s going to be pretty huge.”

“I’ve never been to a party like that,” she admitted to you, giving you a sheepish smile. “I guess I’m a bad college student.”

“Don’t say that! I’ve honestly only been to a few myself, but they were both fun so I thought I’d ask you to come along this time. But if you aren’t comfortable I’m not going to force you to come.”

She looked down at her sheets and thought about it for a moment. As intimidating as the idea of a big party was, she found herself wanting to go with you. What was the worst that could happen? “No, I’ll come. What time is it?”

-

It took her a while to decide what to wear, but she decided on a pair of skinny jeans and one of her favorite pink crop-tops, pulling her newly-dyed hair back into a ponytail. She was in the middle of deciding how to do her makeup when her roommate came back and gave her a look.

“Where are you going?” Elly asked, tossing her bag onto her bed. Lua had known Elly for a while, since high school, so she knew that Elly knew she didn’t do these things. Still, she let out an awkward laugh and picked up a lip gloss, carefully applying it to her lips. Did she look kissable? Why did she even care?

“(Y/N) invited me to a party their sorority friend is throwing,” she said, turning her attention to her earrings. “So I’m going with them.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. Have fun and don’t get too smashed. Call me if you need someone to pick you up.” Elly didn’t sound too surprised, which in turn surprised Lua. She turned around, eyebrows raised.

“You aren’t going to tell me not to go?”

“Nah. They’re fun, I’ve been to a few. Plus you’re going with (Y/N) and I trust them,” she said, sitting down on her bed, and Lua slowly put her earrings down.

“Oh. Uh, is my outfit okay for a party like this?”

“Yeah, only freshmen get really dressed up for parties. You look good, don’t worry about it and get out there. Just stay safe and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Didn’t you drunkenly make out with Suyeon before you knew she was your soulmate at a party once?”

“Hey! Shut up, who told you about that?”

“Suyeon.”

“Goddammit, I told her that I’m supposed to be the responsible one so she can’t just go airing my party animal freshman year to you guys!” Elly huffed and pulled out her phone, and Lua laughed, quickly grabbing her phone. It was always fun to tease the older girl. It made her nerves calm down a little, and she took one last look at her appearance before heading to the door.

“Bye, I’ll be home eventually!”

“Oh whatever. Go get laid!”

“Elly!”

The air was a little more chilly than she’d expected it to be, and she shivered a bit as she walked out the door. You were standing in front of her dorm building, and you smiled as you saw her. As she stepped down to stand beside you, she swallowed slightly. You looked nice, hair done and wearing tight pants much like she was. She tried to chase Elly’s words from earlier away.

“Ready?” You asked, and she nodded, giving you a grin.

“Ready.”

She hadn’t been ready. She liked to think that she had a pretty high alcohol tolerance, but whatever had been in the red cups shoved into your hands at the door had tasted like cleaning fluids and already had her feeling tipsy. The music was loud, and she didn’t even know where it was coming from, but it made the entire house shake every time the base was played, and she already had a headache, but the alcohol made it a little more bearable.

She found herself in the kitchen alone, blinking in confusion over how she’d gotten there and where you’d gone. But a girl who looked vaguely familiar named Sejeong shoved another drink into her hands and yelled “get turnt” so she felt like she had to drink again. When you reappeared at her side, your cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was much less in control of her thoughts and feelings.

“How’s the party so far?” You asked, yelling over the music, and she grinned, leaning back against the counter.

“It’s fine. Better since you’re back.”

“Are you helpless without me?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been to one of these before, you know?”

“Okay, then I’ll stay by your side. But you have to promise to dance with me.” You caught her wrist, and her skin felt like it was on fire from the feeling of your fingertips.

“Dance?”

You giggled, and she liked the sound. “That’s what you do at these things.”

“Oh. Sure.”

The living room was a sea of bodies dancing to the music, and as you tugged her towards it, she felt a little nervous. But the liquid courage must have kicked in, because as soon as the song changed to something she knew, she let you pull her in closer. She knew how to dance, professionally, but this wasn’t anything like that. This was something much more sensual, bodies touching and pressing, and the air felt so hot that she was dizzy. But you were there in front of her, so she just let her foggy mind take control, her body moving, out of her own control.

The next thing she knew, the two of you were giggling and tripping into one of the rooms upstairs, and she fell back onto a bed that wasn’t hers and wasn’t yours, staring at the ceiling and trying to steady herself. Where was she again? She felt your weight sink into the bed beside her, and your head rested on her shoulder, making her feel hot all over again.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m right here.” You sounded sleepy, and when she glanced over, she was able to make out that your eyes were closed, even in the darkness of the room.

“You’re a sleepy drunk.”

“No I’m not. I just wanted to close my eyes.” As if refuting your own statement, you yawned, making her giggle.

“Sure.”

“Well, you’re a weird drunk.”

“You have no proof.”

“No, I have lots of proof. This is the first time I’ve seen you let go. You’re always so serious and focused on school.”

Lua fell quiet, staring back up at the ceiling. It was true, she didn’t usually let herself go, not like this. She was always nervous, always worried about what people would think. It probably came with the fact that she’d been different all her life. “I let go all the time. Just the other day I danced to Gangnam Style with you.”

“You know what I mean.” She did know what you meant, so she shut up, closing her own eyes. She felt your hand come up to rest on her stomach, and her heart spiked. It was a gentle touch, but it was still too much, because she’d never felt anything like this before. She shouldn’t let herself fall like this. But she laid there and let you, blaming it on the fog in her head.

“Why do you hang out with me if I’m so serious and boring?” The question spilled out, and she regretted it for a moment as you stayed silent, drawing circles on her bare skin.

“I like you. We’re a lot alike.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah. You know, I was born without my soulmate mark too.” At your works, she froze, opening her eyes again. Suddenly, it made sense. Why you were always wearing long sleeves or something around your wrist.

“Really?”

“Really. I thought I was going to be alone forever. I thought I was the only one. But then I met you, and... I just had this connection to you. I wanted to be close to you forever.”

She swallowed as she felt her stomach twist, a strange yet familiar feeling welling up in her chest. It was fear. She was afraid. Just because neither of you had a name, that didn’t mean that you were the one for her. What if she got in the way? What if she hurt you? What if it didn’t work out? She felt like crying, because it was all so much. But also because she felt the same way about you, and she’d just never wanted to admit it. She’d never wanted to get her hopes up.

“There’s so many scary things,” she said aloud, voice soft and shaky, and she felt you shift your weight beside her.

“But if we don’t challenge those scary things, we might never know.” You were right, of course. You were always right. But that didn’t make it any less scary.

“I know. I want to. I’m just afraid.”

Your hand stalled on her stomach, and she closed her eyes tight again, waiting.

“Let me kiss you.” Your voice was firm, and it made her heart jump again.

“What?”

“Let me kiss you. Please. If we really have that disorder, you know the one. The one we’ve been told about our whole lives. If we really have it, kissing our soulmate is the only way to find out.” She opened her eyes to see that your face was only inches away from hers now, and your eyes were open and clear. She suddenly felt sober again as her mind ran through her options. She could be scared. She could back away, run away, run back to the not scary side of things and ruin what might be forever, but save herself from heartbreak. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to kiss you so bad it hurt.

So she turned her body to face you on that unfamiliar bed and faced her fears. “Go ahead. Kiss me.” You looked almost shocked at her words before you lunged forward, pressing your lips against hers. The feeling was foreign, because she’d never been kissed before, but she liked it. Slowly, as the need built up in her chest again, she began to kiss you back, moving her lips even though she was unsure and scared.

As soon as she began to kiss you back, you brought your hand up to the back of her neck and began to kiss her harder, pressing your body closer, and all her fear went out the window, lost in the fact that she was kissing you. You, who she’d fallen for so long ago and had been too afraid to admit it. She wrapped her arms around you, and let you climb on top of her, giving you more access to her mouth as her heart threatened to explode in her chest. Her entire body was hot, but there was something weird, a strange sensation on her hand. You must have felt it too, because you finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard. Even though you’d told her not to be afraid, she could see worry in your eyes as you paused, staring into her eyes.

“Should we check?” This time, Lua decided to be the brave one. She took a deep breath and pulled her hand from behind you to look. There, on her wrist, was your name in small letters. This time, when she felt like crying, she actually did, and you gasped. “Really? It’s really there?”

“It’s really there,” she whispered, showing you, and you slowly looked at your own wrist, only to burst into tears when you saw her name on your dominate hand.

“I’m so happy I don’t know what to do,” you said, wiping at your tears. She smiled and leaned up to press her forehead against yours, basking in this new feeling. She had a soulmate. She wasn’t broken after all. And she didn’t have to be afraid to love you anymore.

“Just stay here with me and kiss me some more.” The words made her feel giddy, and they made you smile through your tears, wrapping your arms around her again.

“I love you,” you said, closing your eyes, and she caressed your face before moving in to kiss you. She didn’t care about anything else but you: not the loud music, the sounds of people outside of the room, or how much Elly was going to gloat when she came home. She had you in her arms, and nothing else mattered as she turned to press you into the mattress, determined to show just how much she loved you, even if it took all night.

“I love you too.”

[bytheangell]

Desperate Hours

(Read on AO3) (Coda for 3x13 and compliant with the 3x14 sneak peek of Magnus&Lorenzo, so spoilers for both ahead)

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Magnus says, stepping inside Catarina’s apartment.

“Of course, Magnus. You’re acting like it’s some huge struggle to pencil you in, and not like I wouldn’t gladly welcome a visit from one of my closest friends any time.” She smiles at him but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes - she knows that this isn’t just a social call. Magnus wonders if she could hear the desperation in his voice over the phone… or maybe she put two and two together when Lorenzo undoubtedly contacted her to forbid her from assisting him after he started asking around.

That wouldn’t surprise him. He’s tired, physically and emotionally, and there’s only so much faking he can do before he has to let his guard down at some point. Catarina, bless her, is the unfortunate recipient of his unfiltered woes.

“Drink?” She offers. “I don’t have much, but there’s some beer or a cheap bottle of wine with your name on it.” She grabs a bottle of beer for herself in the meantime.

“No, thank you.” Now this, if nothing else, sets off a red flag. He’s trying to appear nonchalant but the way he fidgets gives him away. Plus, the last time he came over focused enough to not  share a casual beer with her was when he showed up to tell her about Ragnor. Concern flashes across her features.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?”

Where to begin?, he wonders.

“Everything?” He jokes, attempting for sarcasm but there's a bit too much truth in it to be comfortable. “Isabelle came to me for help earlier. It was important, a matter of her heath, and all I could do was stand there and watch her hurt. She lied and said she was fine to spare me the regret of being useless.”

The irony isn’t lost on him that for all the years he complained about everyone coming to him to help solve their problems, now that he couldn’t he actually missed it. How long until no one bothers to ask in the first place? A week? A month? How much time does he have left before word gets around that Magnus Bane isn’t capable of anything that goes beyond a trip to the market in town or something he can look up in a book already in his possession, unless you’re willing to wait for him to taxi to the nearest reference?

How long until Magnus Bane, as the world knows him, is entirely obsolete?

Cat sighs. She always could read him best and it’s easy to hear the strife behind his words.  “I’m sorry.” Magnus doesn’t look her in the eyes just yet, knowing the pity he’ll find there and not wanting it. He’s done with pity. He’s done with trying to get used to an existence he doesn’t want. “What do you need? You know I’ll help however I can.”

“For Isabelle? Burdock root, native to L’Isle-Adam, which I do need, yes. But that isn’t the whole reason I came…”

Magnus keeps his expression stoic, unwilling to betray the trepidation he feels at the path his current thoughts take.

“I need to get my magic back... I was reading up on a reversal of the spell Asmodeus used on me. Instead of taking magic, the caster would give part of their own to another. There isn’t a lot written on it, but… I think it can work.”

“...I’ve heard about that.” Catarina says, and Magnus’ face falls. He was counting on the fact that, by some small miracle, she hadn’t. Because if she knows what he’s talking about then Magnus already knows what’s coming next before she even opens her mouth.

“You can’t seriously be considering that so soon, can you?”

“I know it’s primarily been used on Non-Warlocks-”

“-all of whom died from the rejection of the magic in bodies not meant to hold it.” Cat supplies quickly, making sure he couldn’t skip around that fact.

“But it does have documented attempts on Warlocks, too.” He continues.

“Yes. Attempts to transfer magic which have resulted in uncontrollable powers at best, and, again, death at the very worst.” Cat looks at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. “You can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t have any ideas, good or bad. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to find that seems even remotely helpful. And it’s never been used on a Warlock with no magic before. All of the previous complications with warlocks were from having two different sources of power fighting within the host. If I only have one…” he trails off. He doesn’t know what will happen with just one, of course, but he’s desperate enough to find out.

“Your magic - your specific signature - is a part of you. To put some foreign essence inside of you like that, the chances of your body rejecting it like a bad transplant, the chances of it going wrong-”

“-are all chances I’m willing to take. I can’t keep living like this, Cat. You don’t know… you can’t imagine how empty I am. How wrong it feels to just exist like this. I haven’t stopped since I got back because every time I’m too still--.” He pauses, looking up at her with pleading eyes just shy of tears. He can’t bring himself to talk about it anymore, it’s too overwhelming. “I need your help.”

“Magnus...”

“I can’t perform the spell on myself and no one else will so much as speak to me about it, by direct order of the High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Magnus spits the title out with bitterness.  

“Magnus, I can’t. Not because of Lorenzo - you know I want nothing more than to help you get your magic back, and if I thought giving you part of mine was the solution I would, I really would, consequences be damned. But I’m not powerful enough for something of this scope. Not with how much magic I use every day with work. And even if I was…” She hesitates. Magnus wants her to stop there. He almost cuts her off because the idea that it was simply a matter of her not being able to, that he could compartmentalize and store away. But it isn’t, and they both know it. He remains silent as she continues. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You’re upset, and you’re frustrated, and you haven’t given this enough thought.” She’s only looking out for him. If he were actually thinking clearly he’d see that. But instead all he hears is that she thinks he’s being foolish. That he’s making a mistake, just like the mistake he made in giving Lilith that potion, and in thinking he was strong enough (or clever enough) to deal with Asmodeus. Just another mistake to add to the list that would be the end of his legacy: a great man buried by an avalanche of missteps.

“I’ve given it nothing but thought. Thinking is all I can do since I’m useless everywhere else now.” Magnus shakes his head, defending himself but no longer working to convince her. They’ve been friends long enough for him to know when her mind is made up.

“You’re not useless and you know it. There’s more to you-” “-oh just shut up already.” Magnus snaps. “If one more person tells me I’m more than just my magic, I’m going to scream.”

There’s a heavy pause immediately following his words in which Magnus knows with no uncertainty he fucked up.

“I think you should go home.” Catarina’s tone isn’t angry, but it is colder than the comfort she offered before. “Take a step back and give me a call later. I’ll have the burdock root for you then.”

Magnus winces, her controlled politeness worse than any anger she could respond with.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You know what else I know? That you came here to ask me to help you perform a spell that might kill you, or have any number of consequences we don’t know about - and that would all fall on me. The Magnus I know would never put his friends in a position like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, because it’s all he can seem to do. She’s right, of course. And it’s why he didn’t want to go to her in the first place - he wanted to find someone neutral, someone he could pay off to go through with it no questions asked. It was a solid plan until Lorenzo went and complicated everything.

So Magnus was forced to go to Catarina because if anyone is willing to go to extremes to help him, it’s her. Perhaps that’s the very reason he shouldn’t have - he’s abusing her good nature for something selfish. What if she agreed and something happened to her? How could he live with himself?

Not to mention if something happens to him. Magnus knows the risks and accepts full responsibility for them, which would do nothing to stop Cat from blaming herself if he dies with her magic coursing through him. Maybe he isn’t thinking clearly, but the longer he goes on without magic the worse he imagines that problem will become. He certainly isn’t going to grow more rational the more disconnected he feels from himself.

Magnus is broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Catarina’s voice. “What does Alec have to say about all this?”

Magnus winces again and remains silent.

“You haven’t told him, have you?” Her tone turns accusatory again.

“No need to if it isn’t going to happen, is there? I’ll worry him when there’s cause to. He has enough on his plate right now without my wild goose chases.” He shrugs, mentally cursing the dead-end Lorenzo caused him, when a thought occurs to him. He hates it, but it gives him a flicker of hope just the same.

“We’ll figure this out,” Cat continues, unaware of his epiphany. “We can do more research on the reversal spell first - we don’t have to write it off entirely - and keep looking for other alternatives. Safer alternatives. There’s a solution out there and none of us are going to stop until we find it, alright?”

“Alright,” he says, distracted, and hears the word fall flat. Magnus is careful to throw a smile her way and brighten his tone, which is an almost impossible task given the stomach-turning idea that crosses his mind just then. If he’s really going to go through with this he needs to make sure Catarina isn’t keeping tabs on him. He needs her to believe he’s dropping it, at least for now… at least long enough to make one more visit.

“Of course. You’re right. I’m rushing into this… I’m not thinking clearly.” Magnus nods. “I’m mortal now, but it isn’t like I’m on my deathbed. There’s time to figure this out.”

He says the words in response to Cat but his mind is elsewhere, thoughts racing at a possibility of one last place he can turn. Catarina eyes him suspiciously but decides to embrace the change of heart as a good thing. And why shouldn’t she assume he’s fine for now: with no Warlock in the city willing to help him it isn’t as if he can run out and do something immediately, right?  

“Just promise me you aren’t going to do anything stupid. I’ve nearly lost you twice now, I can’t do it a third time.”

“You have my word.”

It isn’t a total lie because he’s convinced this isn’t stupid. Risky, yes. Humiliating, certainly. His absolute last resort is enough to make his skin crawl to even consider, but it’s the only option he has and he needs to try.

There’s only one warlock with access the level of power he needs. One who won’t bat an eye at the potential side-effects to him. The only warlock who isn’t forbidden from helping him, because he’s the one who gave the order in the first place.

It’s time to pay a visit to Lorenzo Rey.