#would be unequivocally welcomed

[coraxaviary]

ok so like does anyone else have the rational fear that

someone's gonna come along and mention/post/recommend/rant about their fic on tiktok or some other social media? Mostly tiktok, but I suppose there are other possibilities.

Like, I don't want random people from tiktok coming to read my stuff. I certainly don't want to ever get the attention of anyone associated with the production of these shows -- especially the actors, God forbid.

Like, oh my gosh the prospect of "blowing up" for fanart is so appealing -- like, my eyes *light up* you know what I mean -- but the thought of someone mentioning my fanfic on any other website gives me a cold sweat and heart palpitations

[mightaswelljxmp]

hm ok so interestingly, bdubs’s courthouse is built on an odd number of blocks. note the roof of the facade coming to a point, but more importantly, the nine pillars….

you don’t use an odd number of pillars. like ever.

let me get this out of the way first: i get why you’d build with odd numbers in minecraft. i usually do it myself, to not run into problems like double doors or two-wide pointed roofs or frustrating spacing/symmetry between decorative elements. however. to not even out the design of something so unequivocally done in every other example of columns and pillars…. fascinating implications…

every other example guys. every other building with columns like this has an even number of them.

doing so sets the line of symmetry at an invisible point between two pillars, an even number on each side. but an odd total number of pillars makes the central pillar itself the line of symmetry. this does a couple things.

one, it upends the sense of community and equality. which i know sounds crazy, but really, a group of columns are all put there to hold up a structure. there’s no focus on one because they are all are working as supports.

symbolically, at least when first used in ancient greece, pillars represented people. and it makes sense for courthouses, especially, to want to show an even, fair, equal number of people on each side. no focus on any one, no inherent bias right off the bat just looking at it.

with an odd number of pillars, though, one will always be placed front and center.

and THEN. and then you walk in the courtroom itself (also odd-numbered blocks) and you are immediately opposite the judge, bdubs, located exactly centrally. and true, courtrooms are often set up like this anyway. but bdubs ups the ante and reaffirms that no, focus is on him by staging it all as a daytime court show, boom mic just over his head, cameras pointed in, spotlights on him.

literally by design, it was not built for justice. it’s built for show, for entertainment. and just look at the credits to know exactly what sort of message you’re supposed to be getting from this show.

the biblical story he used, with king solomon. it’s about king solomon. isn’t really about the trial itself, or the babies, or the women. it’s about showing (off) how wise and just he is. that’s the point. hm. interesting.

now, getting to the second point that etho also picked up on: it feels like a prison.

it’s not just the color palette. when your eyes naturally draw to the center point, you aren’t seeing an open space. instead of feeling like an arch or gateway or otherwise some kind of opening, the pillar there makes it feel closed off. the overall effect is that of prison bars. not pillars lining the entrance to a place of order or a temple. bars of a cage, a cell.

imagine the lincoln memorial were set up with 11 or 13 pillars. he’d look so much more trapped in there.

having a central pillar blocks the entrance. it’s not welcoming. you have to go around it; it’s immediately inconveniencing you. and when you go to leave, it’s there blocking you again.

this courthouse was not designed and built to be fair, nor accomodating, nor equitable, on any terms. even if unintentional, i wouldn’t call it so much coincidental as i would… subconscious.

after all, y’know. form follows function.

[jewish-sideblog]

I think people forget that the Nazis never said they were the bad guys. If someone says, hey, I’m evil! You don’t let them take over your country. They presented themselves as scientific, not hateful. By their own account, they were progressives, and the superiority of White Europe over the other races was a proven and immutable fact. They had scientists and archaeologists and historians to prove it. They didn’t tell people they wanted to kill the Jews because they were hateful. They manufactured evidence to frame us for very real tragedies, and they had methodological research to prove that we were genetically predisposed to misconduct. Wouldn’t you believe that?

Hollywood has spent the last 80 years portraying the Nazis as an obvious and intimidating evil. That’s a good thing in some ways, because we want general audiences to recognize that they were evil. But we also want them to be able to recognize how and why they came to power. Not by self-describing themselves as an evil empire, but by convincing people that they were the good guys and the saviors. They hosted the Olympics. Several European countries capitulated and volunteered themselves to the Empire. There were American and British Fascist Parties. They had broad public support. Hollywood never shows that part, so general audiences never learn to recognize the actual signs of antisemitism.

People today think they can’t possibly be antisemitic, because they’re leftist! They abhor bigotry! They could never comprehend Nazi ideology coming from the mouth of a bisexual college student wearing a graphic tee and jeans. How could they? The only depiction of antisemites they’ve ever seen have been gaunt, pale, middle-aged men in black leather trench coats with skulls on their caps.

If the Nazis time-travelled from the 1930s and wanted to take power now, they’d change their original tactics, but not by much. They would target countries suffering from an identity crisis and an economic collapse. They would portray themselves as the pinnacle of what that society considers progressive. Back then, it was race science. These days it’s performative wokeness. Once they’d garnered enough respect and reputation, they’d begin manufacturing propaganda and lies to manipulate people’s anger and fears at a single target— Jews.

If the Nazis made an actual return, they wouldn’t look like neo-Nazis. They wouldn’t be nearly as obvious about their hatred. Their evil wouldn’t give them yellow eyes, and no suspenseful music would play when they walked in the room. They’d be friendly. They’d look like you. They would learn what things your community fears and what things you already hate. They would lie and fabricate evidence to connect the rich elites and the imperialists you revile to a single source of unequivocal Jewish evil. It wouldn’t be hard— they already have two-thousand years of institutional antisemitism they can rely on to paint their picture.

If you’re curious why antisemitism today is coming from grassroots organizations, young, liberal college campuses, suburban neighborhoods with pride flags and All Are Welcome Here signs? That’s why. It’s because, as a global society, we’ve forgotten that the world didn’t used to see the Nazis as bad guys. And what is forgotten about history is doomed to be repeated.

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

[pseudowho]

Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento...

🎄Christmas Headcanons

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Merry Christmas, from Haitch, @silkspunweb and Greynami

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Part 2 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Before he met you:

AU!Nanami Kento who is barely holding himself together on the first Christmas after the Shibuya Incident, healed but not.

AU!Nanami Kento who spends most of his December evenings drinking himself to sleep, in a sleepy haze on the sofa while Christmas specials run quietly in the background.

AU!Nanami Kento who starts hunting Curses of his own jurisdiction, losing track of the days as he sweeps from case to case, kill to kill, nobody's servant.

AU!Nanami Kento who finds a family home and all of its corpses while he's on the hunt for a Curse; stepping over the bloodied threshold, shoes crunching on stained broken glass, he only realises it's Christmas Eve by the stockings hung out and the little broken bodies of their owners beneath them.

AU!Nanami Kento who cries himself to sleep.

AU!Nanami Kento who works through Christmas despite being ill, trying to numb his fear and loneliness, isolated but unable to ask for help.

AU!Nanami Kento who ends up in Shoko's care again; not taking care of himself, not sleeping, and not eating, so a cold grows into an infection and he welcomes in the New Year in a feverish daze in a Jujutsu High hospital bed.

AU!Nanami Kento who declines all visitors, the curtains pulled round his bed.

AU!Itadori Yuuji, Ino Takuma and Gojo Satoru, who leave Kento's gifts by the door for Shoko to collect.

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who would have planned to keep his head down and keep working, ignoring the Christmas lights and music...if not for you, so excited as the holiday approaches, making his heart swell.

AU!Nanami Kento who grasps your joy with both hands, clinging desperately to the hope for a happier life.

AU!Nanami Kento who lets you know he's ready to partake, by quietly sending his Christmas playlist to you. You never mention it, but begin a silent exchange of each adding new songs to the playlist. Kento hears you giggling in the kitchen as he adds a new one while brushing his teeth.

AU!Nanami Kento who looks at Jujutsu High, and all of its orphaned, abandoned or lonely children.

AU!Nanami Kento who kisses you back into the sofa cushions when you give him an unequivocal yes to his cautious Christmas Day Grand Plan proposal, with you, laughing and squeaking as he nuzzles with glee into your pyjama collar.

AU!Jujutsu High Staff and Kids, who begin to receive lovingly handwritten Christmas Day invitations from Kento and you.

AU!Nanami Kento who brushes off any offers of compensation from those who accept his invitation- and everybody accepts. Just bring yourself, he insists.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't take a mission for weeks; he's far too busy making lists, ensuring everyone attending has gifts to open, making recipe and aesthetic Pinterest boards and sharing them with you. Your evenings are spent toe-to-toe on the sofa, feet affectionately rubbing against each other's, discussing recipes and decorations.

AU!Nanami Kento whose love for you only grows when you throw yourself wholeheartedly into making preparations with him. You take up crochet; Kento becomes a plant dad, keen for his home to look more homely.

AU!Nanami Kento who sets his alarm early on Christmas morning, only to find you've beaten him to it and are already in the kitchen. He can't resist sneaking up on you, and you shriek in a puff of flour when he picks you up from behind, spinning you and popping you up onto the counter, scarred face blowing raspberries into your chest as you hit at him with a wooden spoon.

AU!Nanami Kento who starts the Christmas playlist, spinning you round the living room for just one song; there's just so much to do.

AU!Nanami Kento who bakes the gingerbread and pastries while you prepare the dinner, flicking flour and potato peelings at each other as you sing along (badly) to Christmas music.

AU!Nanami Kento who has a momentary pang of anxiety about his scars and eye patch, before you hand him the ugliest Christmas jumper he's ever seen in his life. He looks at you in disgust, but his face breaks into a smile as you step out in your matching jumper.

AU!Nanami Kento who struggles weakly as you pin him against the wall, pulling his cardigan off him and replacing it with the jumper. He struggles a little harder when you replace his eyepatch with a Christmassy one.

AU!Nanami Kento who can barely reach the Christmas tree light switch, for all the presents stacked around it.

AU!Nanami Kento who is overjoyed when people begin pouring through the door, shedding coats and scarves, bearing gifts of food, drinks, and board games, with Inumaki bringing his whole carefully packed games console.

AU!Nanami Kento whose home is suddenly, overwhelmingly full of love, laughter and merriment, watching you ensure everyone has drinks and snacks while he finishes dinner. Being in the kitchen makes it easier to hide that he's tearing up a bit.

AU!Nanami Kento whose dining table ends up too small to hold all of the people, so it holds the food instead, and the people find perches on chairs, the floor, footstools, in a giant Christmas picnic.

AU!Nanami Kento who is too full-up to move...but never too full to thrash Inumaki and Yuuji at Mario Kart.

AU!Nanami Kento who gives Maki some more burn ointment and a short one-armed squeeze, while she and Yuuta warm up the mulled wine in the kitchen.

AU!Nanami Kento who is just so bad at charades.

AU!Nanami Kento who almost weeps with laughter watching you, Nobara and Megumi play Twister after too much to drink.

AU!Nanami Kento who has left mistletoe above an unreasonable amount of doorways, starting a drunken cheek-kissing competition between the party attendees. Takuma Ino is winning, ambushing all passers-by in the bathroom doorway, male or female.

AU!Nanami Kento who was, of course, happy for Yoshino Junpei to bring his mother too; she spends the evening smoking and laughing by a garden firepit with Shoko, while Junpei, Yuuji and the others begin an irresponsible arm wrestling competition.

AU!Maki who wipes the floor with everyone.

AU!Nanami Kento who spirits you away to a dark, quiet nook, peeking round the corner before pulling the cupboard door closed, kissing you deeply and sinking his fingers into your hair to the distant sounds of revelry, which might as well be a hundred miles away.

AU!Nanami Kento who, to his surprise, welcomes Satoru as a late attendee. There is a quiet exchange at the door, before Kento allows Satoru to pull him in for a hug. Just one. It's Christmas after all.

AU!Nanami Kento who must accept many more hugs before the night is over, everyone overjoyed by their gifts.

AU!Nanami Kento who chokes up a little bit when he opens his first present from you; a tie, identical to his leopard print one lost at Shibuya. Found it on eBay, you insist as he pulls it on over his Christmas jumper to applause.

AU!Nanami Kento who waves everyone home with you, snuggled beside him under one arm, until the house is finally quiet and still, the love still remaining in every nook, every cobweb, every scrap of wrapping paper.

AU!Nanami Kento who curls up on the sofa with you, warm and whole under a blanket, until the kisses get deeper and hands start wandering-- let's get to bed, he insists, discarding your Christmas jumpers on the floor.

AU!Nanami Kento who has finished off Christmas in the very best way (in his humble opinion); in between your legs, gazing at you in unadulterated adoration as you whisper your love to him in the lamplight.

AU!Nanami Kento who reaches over you into his bedside drawer, just before sleep washes over you; just one more gift, he hushes behind your ear, and your heart leaps into your throat as his fingers unfold in front of you, to reveal a single tiny square box.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Merry Christmas, you beautiful little sausages.

-- Haitch xxx

[asliceofzosan]

Sanji is a lightweight.

He can't hold his liquor for shit despite his failed attempts to hide it from everyone else. The signs are obvious — the flushed cheeks, the hooded eyes, and the constant smile on his face that remains even if he's not talking to a lady. He prances around the room, socializing and laughing at every little thing, from the cool summer breeze tickling his cheeks to Usopp's tamest of wild stories.

He's also very physically affectionate. When he'd usually reject a hug from Luffy's impossibly long outstretched arms, intoxicated Sanji would welcome the embrace with glee. Chopper is rained with little kisses on his head every time he does anything remarkably cute (which is all the time). And he's seen playing with Robin's fingers absentmindedly as he listens to her talk about the ancient history of a forgotten world.

But there's also one thing Sanji becomes when he's had one too many drinks in his system...

He gets... honest.

Sanji on a normal day is blunt and calculated. He calls things out as he sees it yet still knows how to use his words to twist something to his advantage. Like how he knows how to appease Luffy when he gets adamant over food. Or how he somehow convinces Usopp to do something he'd normally be too afraid to do.

Drunk Sanji is a different kind of honest. Drunk Sanji is honest about things he never even utters if he was even a lick sober.

And Zoro? Oh, he's always been the one to bare witness to Sanji's honesty.

Zoro likes to think of himself as an honest man. He can omit the truth every now and then for someone's safety or to preserve their blissful ignorance, but most of the time he doesn't see any reason to lie. If he finds you annoying, he'll say it. To hell with your damn feelings about it.

But though he values honesty and trust, he sure can hide the truth. Because his own feelings take the back burner. He can't be emotionally charged when lives are on the line. He can't let his heart win out when his brain tells him it's a bad idea. He can trust a gut feeling but never the tug of his own heartstrings.

So witnessing Sanji's honesty — so rooted in the tresses of his stupidly big emotional heart — always has Zoro freezing in place. He can't handle it. But he can't push him away either.

He can hide his true feelings but by all four seas, he can't ever push them far enough away for him to ignore them.

For the embarrassing truth of it all is that every time Sanji looks at him, smiles at him, laughs with him, or even fights with him — Zoro is irrevocably, unequivocally, and detrimentally smitten with the curly browed cook.

He doesn't remember when (somewhere between Little Garden and Thriller Bark... who knows, really...) but he definitely remembers waking up one day and wanting to see Sanji first thing in the morning. He remembers the rapid beating of his heart when the man prepared his comfort dishes when Zoro was having a rough day. He remembers the sparks of electric fire seeping to his bones from a single touch, a brush of fingertips against his scalp with a whispered 'you need a haircut marimo', the ice cold chill that runs down his spine of watching this stupid blonde man attempt to sacrifice his life over and over again to save his friends. All these feelings he remembers and dreads and looks forward to all at the same time.

All come crashing down upon him until he's stuck beneath a mountain of untapped, unrealized, unacknowledged feelings — all because Sanji decided that for today's party he will hold Zoro's hand, and guide him to the galley so they could be alone.

Alone.

"Marimoooo," Sanji sings, a light giggle cutting off the prolonged syllable, and Zoro has to actively remember not to crumble. He grips the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckle turning white, with the other hand desperately clinging to a cheap bottle of sake.

"Auditioning for a musical, cook?" Zoro teases and Sanji sticks his tongue out at him. Zoro, despite all he's holding back, allows himself to chuckle.

"Shut the fudge up, dumb green haired muscle head doofus." (New note: when drunk enough, Sanji physically cannot swear.) He jabs a finger at Zoro's chest, unaware of the invisible mark he's left on his heart. "I wanted to tell you something, stupid."

"Can't it wait until you're sober and can kick my ass properly?" Zoro's deflecting and he damn well knows it. But Drunk Sanji is so unfairly adorable that if he lets him talk more, he might do something Sober Sanji would hate him for forever.

"I donwanna kick your ass!" Sanji throws his hands up exasperatedly. "No no no no thas' not important..."

"What could possibly–" When Zoro chanced a glance at Sanji, he stopped mid sentence. Hooded blue eyes were gazing at him intensely, an ocean of possibilities, a high tide of emotions washing onto the shore. Zoro can't look away. He wants to. He needs to. But he can't. Like a capsized ship at the edge of a whirlpool, Sanji's gaze sucks Zoro in with no pause for mercy.

Mercy that Zoro refuses to call out for.

"Zoro," He says it with a low tone, a soft voice, and with a breathiness he's never heard his name be uttered through before.

He feels Sanji's hand on top of his own before he could let go of the counter. He looks down and the man is tracing his scars. The ones faded overtime and the ones that are freshly closed over. There's a band-aid on his thumb that he's forgotten to remove from a week ago. Sanji's own delicate but kitchen worn fingers run over his knuckles. Each feather light touch sends electric shocks through his veins, a rushing heat that no shot of alcohol could recreate.

Zoro, despite everything his mind is telling him to do, turns his hand over and lets Sanji slip his fingers through and press their palms together.

They're closer now. He doesn't remember when that happened. But Sanji's face is so close, he could count the eyelashes fluttering gently between wakefulness and dreaming if he wanted to. He desperately did. Instead, his other hand raised up to cup Sanji's ever alcohol flushed cheeks, and feels his heart burst with the gentle smile Sanji gives him in return.

"Did you know?" Sanji whispers, thumb rubbing over a particularly nasty scar on the back of Zoro's hand.

"What?" Zoro indulges him. Just this once. "What don't I know?"

Sanji's smile brightens. He rests a hand on Zoro's chest. He feels Zoro's beating heart beneath his palm. Then he looks up, eyes twinkling with a simple but powerful emotion. Zoro's only seen him look like that once before. Back when it was just the five of them from the East Blue, their borrowed ship from Syrup Village, and their feet on a barrel promising to achieve their dreams.

Pure and utter joy.

"Did you know... that I'm so happy that you're my friend?"

Zoro's breath hitches and Sanji hiccups, sudden tears flowing down his cheeks. He doesn't attempt to hide them or wipe them away. Zoro feels them fall onto his chest as he watches Sanji cry with the biggest smile on his face.

"You're the first friend I had that was my age," He continued, bringing Zoro's hand up and nuzzling against his palm. "I never had friends growing up. Was surrounded by old geezers telling me what to do half the time. Joining the crew... This is the best decision I ever made."

Then a faint kiss was placed on every scar Sanji could see on Zoro's hand. Piece by piece, Zoro's resolve crumbled, and he felt tears prickle at the corner of his eye.

"You're my best friend, Zoro. Did I tell you that?"

"No," Zoro whispered. He takes Sanji's other hand and kisses the rough pads of his fingertips too. Sanji watches him, mouth slightly open in a dazed smile. Zoro wonders if he'll remember this in the morning.

"Why haven't I?" Sanji asks him, or perhaps wonders aloud. Zoro just shrugs and keeps kissing up Sanji's hand. With each kiss, Sanji lets out a sigh, gentle and inviting. Zoro chooses not to answer.

"I love having friends," Sanji says stumbling forward slightly at Zoro's ministrations. Zoro catches him before he falls and Sanji throws his arms around him, clutching tightly and giggling so much that he's almost losing breath. "I love having you in my life."

A tear falls down Zoro's cheek. He tightens his hold around the cook and thinks the exact same thing.

Sanji burrows his face into Zoro's shoulder, hiccuping again. "Can we stay like this for a little while?"

"We can stay like this forever, if you want." Like this as in always by your side. Like this as in holding you every time you ask for it. Like this as in who we can be if alcohol didn't make you forget everything you say to me.

"I have to cook tomorrow though." was Sanji's brilliant response and Zoro couldn't help but laugh. He's waited this long for something like this. He can wait until morning for a conversation a little more serious.

"Yeah, cook." Zoro obliges, leading Sanji to the cushioned bench by the dinner table. "We can stay like this for a little while."

"Yay," Sanji cheers softly, his voice already starting to slur. Zoro lets him rest his head on his chest as he curls up and around Zoro like a koala. "Warm."

Time moves by slowly. Zoro's fingers run through silky blond hair as they talk about silly insignificant things. Sanji's giggles get softer and softer. His breathing evens out. Soon enough, Sanji's eyelids have closed and he's sleeping soundly, clinging as tightly as his unconscious body permits onto the swordsman.

Zoro knows that when morning comes, they'll have to talk. But for now, Zoro allows himself to bask in the warmth of Sanji's honesty. Allows himself to let Sanji's genuine gratitude of meeting and joining the straw hat crew wash over him like the gentlest of cool sea breezes after a long and hot day.

And he can be assured, as he drifts off into his own slumber, that Sanji loves him.

And that Zoro loves him too.

inspired by this tweet

[eroguron0nsense]

Garp Rant #11543

Because I'm something of a Certified Garp Hater/extremely obsessed with this man, and because Tumblr people seem to like my Garp takes and/or find them extremely pain-inducing, here's another one for funsies! Again, Garp is an incredibly written character and I massively enjoy his moral failings and human shortcomings, hence why I won't shut up about how much he sucks. So we all remember Garp crying in front of Ace during his imprisonment and awaiting his execution, lamenting the fact that his son and grandson could have maybe avoided this horrible horrible fate that awaits them at Marineford if they'd just become good marines like he'd tried to press them into. Every time he says it, he sounds more desperate, sadder, and angrier, like he's experiencing the stages of grief and going through denial, anger bargaining all at once, lashing out at his grandkids for supposedly causing him grief by defying his wishes, or maybe praying or wishing for a world where they could have followed in his footsteps and lived happily ever after. And when Ace hears that again at Impel Down, he says this:

Here's the thing though: Ace is unequivocally correct Garp should, by all rights, know this. He lived through the fallout of Roger's execution. He knew long before that exactly what would happen to Roger's loved ones and anyone the government could get their hands on who'd ever associated with him. Even before they started committing femicides/infanticides in Baterilla trying to end Roger's bloodline, he knew that the Marines were going to target completely innocent people in the name of purging the bloodline and cementing their "victory" over the greatest threat they'd ever faced. He specifically had to smuggle Rouge out of there so she could give birth to Ace, and all the while dozens of families were being brutalized by his peers and having their lives torn apart. That was the cost the Marines were willing to incur to kill a hypothetical infant, and years later, when that very same child is set to be executed, Sengoku goes on a remorseless public tirade about the necessity of killing babies and the horrible trickery and audacity Rouge displayed by dying so that they wouldn't kill her baby too.

Garp knows every single piece of this information in painful, excruciating detail. He's so horrified by it he feels the need to fulfill this wish of Roger's because he knows blameless people will die. He has Ace raised in secret to protect him from Marines who are figuratively and literally out for his blood. And yet, throughout this boy's childhood, he clings to the notion that maybe, just maybe, the people he knows regularly commit atrocities, who have carried out at least 3 genocides that we know of in Garp's lifetime, who were willing to commit mass infanticide for a woman and child they hadn't verified the existence or identity of at the time, would have accepted him within their ranks and turned a blind eye to that information when it eventually, inevitably surfaced. That Ace can find salvation from the people who stole every loved one he ever had before he was even born, who slaughtered his mother's community and pushed her to her death, and were slavering at the opportunity to kill her. That even though Ace was born in direct opposition to them, has had a target trained on him before he was born, these people who tried so goddamn hard to kill him would surely welcome his presence and not murder him the second they found out if he could just be a compliant model soldier and make himself useful. It's hammered home pretty effectively–especially in the manga– and One Piece has never been known to be subtle in its messaging, but I swear to God I see so many people echoing the notion that Garp's attempts to force his grandchildren into serving the Evil Empire was done because he knew was their only shot at safety from the WG, and I fucking despise this take. Ace saying that he could never be a marine here in Impel Down isn't some young man's rationalization for his (beyond valid) desire not to subscribe to the preset path Garp laid out for him; it's literally the only logical conclusion if you know literally anything about the circumstances of his birth and upbringing, and Garp only thinks that the leopards wouldn't eat Ace's face because he's fucking delusional This in and of itself is extremely telling of how horribly warped Garp's perception of the Navy is, and how deeply he's willing to buy into the Marines and their warped propaganda no matter how many glaring examples he sees throughout his life that counter his worldview, but let's not forget that this applies to Luffy too. This is slightly hairier, in that if Luffy was a) the sort of person who could willingly accept a career in the marines and b) managed to cling really, really tightly to his grandfather's coattails and legacy, there might have been a very, infinitesimally small chance that he could have joined the Navy. The higher ups know that Dragon is Garp's son and therefore Luffy is Dragon's by logical inference, but I could see some AU where Luffy is a fundamentally different person and manages to build himself up in the Navy if not for two things I think warrant examination. It's pretty evident, and Dragon explicitly confirms, that Luffy being known as his son would have put him in incredible danger, only feeling comfortable with acknowledging it and the possibility of actually reuniting with his child after Luffy was both publicly recognized due to factors beyond his control, and proved that he was more than capable of holding his own. But I want to draw attention to this one otherwise pretty silly little gag moment between Garp and Sengoku when they learn that Luffy's broken into Impel Down, and present a theory that's kind of a reach but also not really

Now the phrasing here kind of interests me, in that it ties back to earlier demonstrated patterns that the Navy uses repeatedly in collective punishment for the families and loved ones of their primary targets. Rouge and Ace barely escaped the mass murders intended for them because of their connection, but Tom was also originally sentenced to death for having had a connection to Roger, and ultimately chose that as the offence he wanted to be sentenced for at Enies Lobby. Law, as a child survivor of Flevance, has multiple hospitals try and turn him in to the World Government to be killed when Cora tries to find someone to treat him because their policy is to pull out the roots and salt the earth whenever they deem a person or population politically inconvenient. Robin's flashback shows us Akainu blowing up a refugee boat on the off chance that one of those people that they were planning to evacuate might have gotten past their initial screening for archaeologists/poneglyph readers. At Marineford, Akainu specifically targets Luffy not because of his prior offences or even his attempt to rescue Ace, but because he's Dragon's son and his and Roger's bloodlines need to be eradicated. This is not an institution that is in any way reluctant to destroy anyone tangentially affiliated to a designated enemy, and Luffy being the son of the worst criminal in history seems to put him right in line with all of those other cases. In light of this, and Garp's massive blind spots and wishful thinking regarding his peers and employers, it's not that much of a stretch to assume that the only reason Garp's exempt from being targeted like Dragon is because of his popularity/symbolic importance/utility, and that Luffy likely wouldn't have been safe even if he weren't a pirate. Garp's circle of confidantes/friends in high places is powerful, but clearly there are factions (Akainu, Ryokugyu etc) that would be substantially less willing and who are given preferential treatment by the Elders and Celestial Dragons. There might be something to read into based on the fact that Garp is the only known person from a D bloodline who's achieved massive success in service to the World Government and not defected from the Navy after realizing its true nature (props to Saul), and therefore he might project the fact that he's been rewarded by the system despite being a "sworn enemy of the Gods" onto his family, but that still doesn't account for the massive, delusional arrogance he displays in insisting that, despite everything–especially, especially the murders committed in pursuit of Ace, that robbed him of his birth mother and community–the Navy is the best and safest place for either of those boys. TLDR Garp not wanting his grandsons to have a bounties on their heads is one thing, but it says a lot that in spite of everything he knows, he's willing/determined to put Ace and Luffy in an environment that's extremely dangerous for them –and in Ace's case 100%, unquestionably fatal– because he's so convinced that compliance and the platonic ideals of "justice" and military service/hard work being rewarded by the system could supersede all of that.

[mariacallous]

Rep.-elect Sarah McBride (D-Del.), soon to be the first transgender member of Congress, was targeted by multiple Republican measures to bar transgender women from using Capitol bathrooms that align with their gender identity.

Democrats have rallied to McBride’s defense, accusing Republicans of bullying McBride and attacking other LGBTQ+ people who work at and visit the Capitol.

Democrats have tried to refocus the conversation on other issues important to voters, such as healthcare and the high cost of living — taking a page from McBride’s own political playbook.

At a Democratic caucus meeting Tuesday, Rep. Becca Balint (D-Vt.) watched as colleagues approached and offered their support to Rep.-elect Sarah McBride (D-Del.), who will soon be sworn in as the first out transgender member of Congress.

“We have your back,” Balint recalled her fellow representatives telling McBride. “We stand with you.”

At a Thursday event where incoming House freshmen got assigned offices, McBride’s name was met with the loudest applause.

According to Balint, co-chair of the Congressional Equality Caucus, many Democratic members are excited to welcome and meet McBride — not just as a queer history-maker, but as a new colleague whose reputation as an effective state legislator in Delaware preceded her to Washington.

The support has been intentionally loud, Balint said, because Democrats also want to send an unequivocal message to House Republicans who have targeted McBride with comments and actions in recent days that Democrats “are not going to retreat” on transgender rights.

“We have to absolutely recommit ourselves to this fight, for protecting everyone’s inherent dignity,” Balint said.

On Monday, Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.) filed a resolution that would prohibit transgender women from using Capitol bathrooms that align with their gender identity. On Wednesday, House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) announced a similar policy for Capitol bathrooms, locker rooms and changing rooms. The same day, Mace filed a bill that would expand such bans to federal facilities across the country.

Mace said her measures, which would require approval, are to protect women and girls, then launched a new line of merchandise to profit off her stance. She has previously espoused support for LGBTQ+ rights.

In issuing his bathroom rule, which falls under his purview as speaker, Johnson said, “Women deserve women’s-only spaces.” He also noted that all members have private bathrooms within their offices — though those can be far from the House floor.

The day prior, Johnson had responded to a question about the issue by stressing the need to “treat all persons with dignity and respect.”

Access to bathrooms has long been an issue for women at the Capitol, which originally operated on the presumption that legislators were men. Only after more and more women won seats in Congress and called out the dearth of facilities for them did the issue get resolved.

With the latest measures targeting McBride, Democrats say they are struggling to combat fresh discrimination in the same sphere — a backsliding they view as particularly cruel for its targeting of a single incoming legislator, and extra alarming for its potential to harm other queer people who visit or work in the Capitol.

“This incredibly craven and cruel attack directed at [McBride] was certainly intended to dehumanize her before she has even been sworn in, but it actually doesn’t just affect our first trans member of Congress,” Balint said. “It impacts all of the people who work on Capitol Hill who identify as trans and nonbinary. It impacts the reporters who cover the Hill that identify as trans and nonbinary. And it also impacts every single one of our constituents who come into the halls of Congress to meet with us.”

Speaking out in opposition to the measures is about supporting McBride, who is “a serious legislator” and wants to get to work on a range of tough issues without having to worry about where she can get to a toilet, Balint said. But it is also about “showing the LGBTQ community across the country that we are standing up for them and pushing back.”

The debate follows an election cycle steeped in anti-transgender rhetoric, when many Republicans — including President-elect Donald Trump — took to ridiculing Democrats over their support for transgender equality as a central campaign message, to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars in collective ad spending.

“The Republican Party has laser-focused on transgender inclusion as something that it wants to roll back, and so the exciting addition of the first openly trans member of Congress has prompted a hideous response — which is [for them] to participate in an ad hominem attack that takes the form of exclusion,” said Kate Redburn, co-director of the Center for Gender and Sexuality Law at Columbia Law School.

Democrats have at times struggled to respond to the barrage of Republican attacks. However, in the last week, they seem to have landed on an approach out of McBride’s own playbook in Delaware — where she won a statewide congressional seat not by running away from her transgender identity and support for queer rights, but by contextualizing them alongside other important issues, such as the cost of living and access to healthcare.

Rep. Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.) wrote on X on Tuesday that she is proud to serve alongside McBride, and that it was “disappointing to see Republicans pull stunts” attacking her.

“They should take a page out of Rep-Elect McBride’s book,” Pressley wrote, “and focus on actually governing.”

House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) similarly questioned Republicans’ decision to start the next Congress by “bullying” McBride instead of focusing on real issues. “This is what we’re doing?” he said.

Rep. Jan Schakowsky (D-Ill.), who has a transgender grandson and has been outspoken against past anti-LGBTQ+ measures, hit a similar note in an interview Thursday, in which she called the Republican measures attacking McBride “absolutely outrageous” and “completely out of line.”

“What a ridiculous focus this is,” she said. “There are needs of many, many Americans who don’t have the healthcare that they need, seniors who can’t afford their medications. Those are the things that we should get to work on, that I’m sure Sarah would want to get to work on — and this is just off the deep end.”

In her own remarks, McBride has acknowledged what many view as the bigotry at the root of the Republican measures, but also tried to refocus the conversation on getting things done for her constituents.

“I’m not here to fight about bathrooms. I’m here to fight for Delawareans and to bring down costs facing families,” she said in a statement Wednesday. She said Johnson’s rules were an “effort to distract from the real issues facing this country,” but that she wouldn’t let them distract her — even as she follows them.

On Thursday, she made clear that she will work to ensure Capitol Hill is safe for everyone, including her LGBTQ+ constituents, but doesn’t plan on allowing “a right wing culture war machine” to turn her identity “into the issue.”

Lisa Goodman, a longtime LGBTQ+ activist in Delaware and friend of McBride’s, said the representative-elect’s family and friends back home “are disappointed that this is how people who are going to be her colleagues are greeting her.”

But they aren’t worried, Goodman said, because they know McBride is capable of navigating such waters.

“She can handle these attacks and keep focused on what is the big picture — what is important in the big picture — like no one I have ever met,” Goodman said.

Goodman said McBride has a rare talent for winning over people, which will serve her well in the coming months, as she gets to know her new colleagues — Democrats and Republicans alike.

“She’s just a deeply good person, and my hope is that, as her Republican colleagues in Congress get to know her, they will see her as a person and not as some unknown member of the trans community who they feel it’s OK to attack,” Goodman said.

Balint said several Republican House members have told her in private that they support the LGBTQ+ community and don’t support divisive policies. She said she hopes McBride’s kindness and humanity in the face of such attacks will bring those Republicans to her side — and maybe even inspire them to take a stand for her.

“It is their time to finally show some courage,” Balint said. “I’m asking them to stand up for the basic, inherent dignity of all of us here in this building.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

this world was never meant for a fire like yours (part 3/5)

Daemon Targaryen x modern-f!reader / nurse!reader

word count: 5.6k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

series synopsis: After a fatal injury on the battefield, Daemon wakes up in a foreign land - our world (where GoT / HoTD does not exist). He meets the reader, a nurse who tends to him and helps him navigate everything. They grow close, and slowly, but unequivocally, fall in love.

themes/warnings: separation, Daemon in his New Moon Bella Swan era, reader in full/overly hectic nurse mode, Viserys losing (even more) hair because of Daemon, Daemon is severely whipped, language

August 2023 / the 8th Moon, 113 AC

A flash of bright red passes by, your peripheral vision drawn to it as if on instinct. You don’t look back as you turn a corner, not wanting to see if it is a similar vehicle.

If it is, then that’s just fucking cruel. As if the universe itself is mocking you.

Because no matter how much you deny it, every single thing reminds you of him. 

Cars. Broken laptops. Your worn-out couch. Old movies. Pizza. Burnt food in your kitchen. Helicopters. The dog-eared paperbacks on your shelf. 

Damn him. Damn him to his ridiculous seven hells.

It has been weeks since Daemon Targaryen disappeared from your life, as easily and as abruptly as he had entered it.

Without a trace, as if you plucked him from your imagination. Except he did leave a mark so indelible it cannot be denied. He left his mark alright, in the form of constant sleepless nights. In how you space out each time his memory hits you. In how nothing in your little apartment seems to be yours anymore. Every corner, every inch of the space screams his name. He has made your world his own. He had claimed your heart… and then left. And now you’re here to pick up the pieces.

You remember the torture reflected in his face, the rage, when his brother came to take him away. You knew how badly he wanted to go home, so you made his choice for him.

You told him to leave. 

Stupid girl. You want to go back to that very moment, and tell yourself to make him stay. You know you should have held him in your arms, keeping him rooted in place. In this world, with you. 

But you opted for selflessness. You chose to have your heart broken, so that Daemon can go home. You know that he would have stayed if you only asked.

Fuck, I should have asked.

The Rogue Prince has been unpleasant and volatile ever since he returned from that strange other world. He has been made welcome, feted and tended to, day and night. Everyone was initially glad to have their Targaryen prince again. Until they realized how much he had changed.

Daemon quickly went back to his roguish ways, but it seems as if these tendencies increased tenfold. Something was severely wrong with the Rogue Prince. Something other than his usual myriad of dangerous flaws. Only a handful knew of his predicament, of his loss.

When the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, chooses to make some remark about how you were just some woman, and an unknowable outsider at that, someone who might never fit in the Seven Kingdoms, Daemon says nothing at first. 

For an entire minute, he sits at the council table, his mind stirring. 

Some of the small council members think the conundrum solved. Their prince must have finally realized that what he wants – who he wants – is an impossibility. But the more discerning of them, those more familiar with Daemon, know otherwise. 

Lord Corlys could have all but predicted what came next, after a grievous line from Ser Otto that goes, “Perhaps we should finally arrange for a union between the Prince and one of the Ladies of the Kingdom. Lord Baratheon’s eldest daughter might be – ”

Of course, he does not get to finish imparting this idea, as Daemon rises in a flash, Dark Sister drawn across the table and directed to Ser Otto’s sternum. 

The Kingsguard springs into action. Any harm conducted during the small council meeting, could of course also extend to their King. 

“Daemon!” Viserys growls, his patience having run out. 

The prince simply warns, “I will not have this snivelling sycophant make decisions about who and when I am to wed. And I will not hear any more slander about the woman whom I love, do I make myself clear?”

Ser Otto merely stands his guard, hands half raised by his sides as a gesture to the Kingsguard to not make any sudden attempts to remove the prince from the room, lest he should suffer any grievous harm to his person as a result.

“Daemon,” Viserys implores again, “Ser Otto was merely making a suggestion. What else is the small council for if not to freely discuss matters of import for ourselves and for the Seven Kingdoms? You are their prince, after all. Whom you wed will be most crucial, indeed.”

Daemon begins to relent. Slowly lowering Dark Sister, a sly smirk materializes on his lips, as if to show just how little this perceived threat to Ser Otto means to him. It isn't even enough to warrant an apology. 

Daemon seats himself once more, appearing to look unfazed as he inspects the calluses on his hands. “There is only one reason as to why I even deigned to participate in today’s council meeting. I wish to know if we have finally received word back from those bloody witches who had me returned… the ones who can apparently travel through our realm and the other.”

Viserys sighs, knowing his brother is not there for anything else. Not for his duties. Not for the realm. But for you. “Nothing yet, Daemon. But we are trying – ”

He stands abruptly, without any mind to formalities. “Then it appears there is no reason for my presence here.” 

In a moment, before any plea could be spoken, the Prince was gone from the council chambers.

Lord Beesbury, confused, addresses the table, “Was the Prince not meant to report on the recent dealings of his Gold Cloaks with – ”

“Oh, what does it matter, my Lord?” Ser Tyland interjects, with a scornful whip of his hair. “Prince Daemon would not be aware of all the goings on in the Red Keep, seeing as he is either holed up in his chambers or too busy hunting down those shameless heretics who can miraculously send him back to – ”

“Ser Tyland,” Viserys commands, his voice clear for once. “I shall ask that you leave that matter alone. Unless you can be of any help, which I highly fucking doubt.”

A hush falls over the small council. Their King has never been prone to swear freely like a drunken Lyseni, unlike his younger brother. 

“Perhaps,” Ser Otto says, “we should convene this council meeting for another day, my King.”

Viserys merely huffs in response. “Very well.”

As he departs the room with the Kingsguard, he wonders if things will ever be even just an infinitesimal amount of simple when it concerns his brother.

His conclusion comes swiftly – no, it never will be.

You lower your clipboard on the nurses station, leaning against it in exhaustion.

“Ms. Carlson is stable now, thankfully.” You address Dessa, an older colleague who has been newly stationed at the desk. “We just need to monitor her blood pressure from time to time.”

“Sure thing.” Dessa gives you a once over, clearly not approving your current state. “But sweetheart, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’ve been taking way too many extra shifts just out of the blue like this, and you have to give yourself a break.”

Taking a deep breath, you roll out the tension in your neck and shoulders. The bright wash of hospital lighting makes you feel slightly nauseous, so you shut your eyes tight. Briefly. 

But not brief enough. In the recesses of your mind, in your memories, you can almost feel him. Hear him.

Leaving this world for but a moment, and gently slipping from consciousness, is enough to make you remember. 

And you remember everything.

My love. Come lie with me, he would say. 

Your mind reels from exhaustion, and from the perpetual echo of his voice. Leave me alone.

Come back, is what you meant. It’s what you’ll always mean. But his desire to return to his Westeros, to his Seven Kingdoms, was too strong for you to ignore. He swore he wanted to stay with you, so you had to make the choice for him.

This measly world was never meant for Daemon, whose fire can set everything ablaze. And there surely were plenty of times when he almost let his rage and his usual ways get the better of him, if it weren’t for you. His anchor.

You know that he would be too much to bear, and this world would try to quell him. 

It was the right decision. So why did you have to feel so wretched about it?

Because you love him, you big idiot.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, opening your eyes.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dessa’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, the expletive taking her aback. Poor girl just expressed concern, and here I am over her desk, eyes glazed over like a zombie.

“Oh, it’s just… you’re right, I do need some rest. My shift ends in an hour and I plan to sleep for the next 24 hours. At least.” That isn’t the truth, but you don’t feel it necessary to deepen her concern. You could be upfront and admit that you find it hard to fall into slumber, because almost every time, without fail, Daemon is there to welcome you.

His voice. His touch. His burning gaze. Your dreams could be there to offer a sense of comfort, a safe haven that can temporarily ease you out of heartbreak, but all you can feel is a painful loss. 

You don’t think it right to lose yourself in what was, or what could have been. Where would be the point in that? It isn’t as if this is a typical long-distance relationship, and Daemon simply went off to live in another city. 

No. The damn bastard had to go off to an actual other dimension, didn’t he?

How can anyone expect any less from someone like Daemon?

Dessa relaxes, and sighs audibly. “That’s good. Go do that, hon. If you want, I can cover for your next rounds, whenever that’ll be. You’ve been taking up all the extra shifts around here as it is.”

“Thank you, Dessa,” you say genuinely. “I think I’ll go check on 517 one last time before I go.”

You start to push yourself off of the counter and get your bearings, but Dessa reaches out for your hand, keeping you in place for a moment longer.

She smiles, and you can’t help but notice something lingering underneath her expression of comfort. As if she knows. 

“It’s going to be alright,” she says, and the sentiment quickly takes root in you, a sense of warmth wrapping around you like a warm hug. Too soon though, she lets go, and you are snapped back into reality. 

Until she adds, still smiling, “Those we love tend to find their way back to us, ñuha riña, if that is truly what is meant to be.”

Everything stops. It feels as if ice has infiltrated your veins, like some sudden shock. That sounds like…

“What… what did you call me?” you croak.

She merely tilts her head, her smile dropping only slightly, taking on a new emotion. Something like pity. Does she know?

“I don’t know what you mean. I merely gave you a piece of advice, my child.”

You slowly look around, trying to shake some sense back into yourself. Shaking your head, you say, “Right, I must have misheard things. It’s just… I thought I heard you speak…” High Valyrian. His native tongue. 

“Speak what?” She asks, a hint of confusion visible on her face.

“Nothing,” you shake your head quickly, stepping away from the nurses’ station. “Thanks for the advice, Dessa. I’m just… a little out of the loop is all. I’m definitely going to rest after this. I’ll go do some final rounds, and check back with you in 5 minutes?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiles again, and you think of how welcoming the sight is. How genuine. Dessa has this seemingly maternal quality to her, and you feel grateful to be at the receiving end of it. 

You mirror her smile, before finally turning and sauntering towards the rooms.

When you finally reach your apartment, you have to drag yourself up the flight of steps, your legs feeling like jell-o underneath you.

Dessa is absolutely right. All those extra shifts are taking their toll. In your defense, you believe them to be necessary. Your own messed-up version of therapy. Cooping yourself up in your flat would be torture, when Daemon has left his mark on every inch of the space.

The kitchen where he kept trying to make dishes, only for them to end up charred at the bottom of your trusty IKEA pot. The couch where you spent most nights, curled up in each other’s arms, boxes of takeaway shared between the two of you.

You would dramatically relay your worries about your patients in the ICU, and he would muse about the 'peculiar sort of idiots' he had to deal with at the auto shop. By that, he meant irate customers and even women who took a liking to him. So much so that they would deliberately lose small parts of their car engines, only to specifically request Daemon’s assistance. 

He would pull you onto his lap and cage you in his arms, smirking at the poorly masked envy in your expression. Soon after, your worries would dissipate in a haze, his lips snaking smoothly all over your skin.

I’m clearly upset now. Where’s my comforting embrace, huh?

Sullen, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon quick inspection of the fridge, it becomes evident that you desperately need to make a grocery run.

“I’m officially a peasant. No wonder the great Prince of Westeros didn’t want to stay with me.” You rack your brain for other alternatives, taking note to push away the thought of what Daemon would suggest. Freshly made pizza, with all his preferred trappings – spicy salami, heaps of cheese, nduja, and basil. Conveniently delivered straight to your door in a jiff. 

No. Definitely not that. 

The thought of Daemon not having access to such a glorious thing as pizza anymore made you spiteful. Take that. That’s what you get for leaving. 

You drag yourself onto the couch, slumping atop the worn out cushions. Silly girl. Do you think he would care? That world has everything he could ever wish for. 

The sound of knocking on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. Thankfully. Two sure raps on the wood to pull you out of your misery, for who knows how long.

“Hi.” Tom stands on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face. “Care for some company?”

This would be the fourth time since Daemon’s departure that he’s shown up at your door, out of the blue, simply asking to spend time with you. And this would also be the fourth time that you acquiesce, and let him in. 

Any and all distractions are welcome. Even in the form of your neighbour, with his puppy-dog eyes and suggestive remarks that clearly indicate that he still has not gotten over you. Despite being rudely confronted with the reality of you and Daemon, many months ago. 

But the reality is… there is no more you and Daemon, is there? Once Tom grew aware of that, his eagerness returned twofold. 

You did not show the same interest. Not in that way, at least. You made sure of that by saying “I’m glad we’re friends again.” when he first came over. Friends. Only that.

Still, there was some part of you that felt as if you were leading Tom on. By letting him in again, being his friend, you were giving him hope that it could turn into something more. Especially now that you badly needed a shoulder to lean on. 

Before you could let guilt rip through you, you force a smile up at him. “Sure, come in.”

I might pay for this later. 

For now, his carefree laugh and animated talk of everything that’s going on in this world might just help piece together the remains of your heart. 

*flashback* March 2023 / the 3rd Moon, 113 AC 

It was no easy feat to summon a priestess of the old gods to King’s Landing, but when Prince Daemon disappeared, his brother the King Viserys spared no effort in seeing his brother safely returned. 

Every sept of every religion was consulted. The Maesters of the Citadel. What remains of the water-wizards in Dorne. The magisters of the Free Cities. 

Many of the common folk surmised that perhaps, the volatile Prince Daemon simply took off without any word of warning.

However, that supposition may be easily debated with the fact of Caraxes’ presence on Dragonstone. Daemon would not have left Caraxes behind. If anything, he would have almost certainly ridden on dragonback to wherever he planned to go.

It further complicated matters when some of the soldiers present on the battlefield wherein Daemon was last seen profusely swear that their Prince simply vanished into thin air. 

The Maester were quick to dissuade their King of supposed foolhardy lies. One does not simply vanish. It is unheard of, a mere calumny. Their advice had been near unanimous - the Prince left, or was in hiding. Likely he did not wish to be found, which is why he left his dragon behind, the creature inevitably drawing attention wherever it goes. 

Just when the commotion around his disappearance had somewhat dissipated, a triad of self-proclaimed members of an outer sect, an adjunct to the priestesses of the old gods, made themselves known in the Red Keep. Accompanied by the elder priestess, they asked for an audience with the King, who eagerly welcomed them. His council members, on the other hand, were wrought with suspicion.

The women, three close-knit sisters, introduced themselves as Treesa, Verness, and Dessa.

They claimed to be part of a covert sect that sprung from the Old Religion. One that remains largely unknown in Westeros, which warranted the suspicion of the small council. 

“Realmwalkers.” Verness declared in a proud tone. “That is what we call ourselves, borne out of the fact that we can jump from this realm, my King, to another strange yet equally fascinating one. The very same realm that Prince Daemon finds himself trapped in.”

“Trapped? And in another realm, you say?” Viserys’ fury was rising to the surface. “I charge you to speak plainly, and do not offer me such calumnies. Where is my brother?”

Treesa smiled wryly, unperturbed by the King’s growing wrath. “He has been sent to the realm of Korzion. The realm of steel, if you please. Largely inhibited by men. Like us, but not quite. They are somewhat more… connected to these… these machines.” There was a faraway look in her eyes, rendering her expression almost vacant. Her gaze met that of the King’s, but it appeared as though she did not really see him. Her mind was elsewhere, her skirts moving alongside her gently swaying figure. 

Upon hearing this, Otto Hightower leaned in to whisper to the King, “These so-called priestesses must only be devising some trickery, my King. Perhaps we should adjourn – ”

Dessa interjected, “We can prove it to you, King Viserys. We are the only ones who can ensure that your brother is safely returned to this realm. Whether you trust us or not, that does not alter this truth.”

Viserys stiffened, a decision forming in his mind. Ignoring the look of reproach from his Hand, he took a deep breath and responded, “Tell me everything.”

September 2023 / the 9th Moon, 113 AC

“It took you a long while to allow yourselves to be found again.” Daemon’s voice, while low and controlled, maintains an underlying impatience. As if he could not be bothered, and is only going through everything for the hope of seeing you again. Sitting casually, partially covered by the shadows, he briefly thinks of how you would definitely make a remark of how much he resembles a ‘Bond villain’ from those movies you love. 

You once ran your fingers repeatedly over his hair, mussing it completely, after a couple of glasses of wine white. Daemon sat there, half in surprise and half in adoration. “Mystery man,” you slurred, smiling sleepily, “you’re someone straight out of a book, or a movie, or… or… my dreams.” Your eyes widened at that, at the incredulity of it all.

“You have dreamt about me, haven't you?” He cheekily responded. This was quite some time before the two of you finally dropped all the pretence and acted on your desires. Before the two of you allowed yourselves to fall completely in love.

“Mmm,” you giggled, “Strange how I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”

Daemon, for all his brazenness and devil-may-care behaviour, found himself feeling disheartened at your words. Bad boy, you said. But that had a different, softer meaning for you. You were not aware how bad, how malevolent, he actually is. You did not know how he had dismembered enemies in battle, in his blind rage. You did not know how he had selfishly manipulated and lied his way purely to get what he wanted. You did not know that he would kill anyone who tried to hurt you, without reservation, in a heartbeat. 

He thought of how you were too good for him. Sitting there, after hours upon hours of your daily work as a healer, still managing to offer him a meal and spend time with him after near exhaustion, your smile was still whole and true and good. And it was being directed at him. The strange, angry man who infiltrated your little world and did not seem to want to leave. 

He thought, determinedly, that he did not deserve any of it. He did not deserve you.

Treesa’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. “I think I have lost you, my prince. You are no longer in this world, as you were.” Sitting across from him in his chambers, she has half a mind to become irate at how Prince Daemon is regarding her as if she is nothing more than the mud on the sole of his princely boots. A mere inconvenience. But her annoyance is restrained by her understanding of how he must be feeling. 

He regains himself, ignoring her remark, and continues, “Where are the others?” Then he flippantly waves his hand. “Never mind that. You said you will help me. Then can you transport me back to her world? Or her to mine? How soon can this be done?”

Treesa smiles slyly, “So many questions. How powerless you must feel against the tides of fate. What if your story has already been determined by the gods? That you meet your love, stay together briefly, only so that she may change you forever?”

“Careful now, witch.”

“Realmwalker.” 

“Whatever you call yourselves. Make no mistake, I am not asking for your help. I demand it, as your prince.”

Treesa just laughs, the shrill sound as light as air. “Do not take us so lightly, Rogue Prince. The one you claim to love is also one of us.”

“What?” 

“Your love from Korzion? Oh yes. She is a Realmwalker too.”

“Impossible.” Daemon says, shaking his head, but he is already running through his memories of you. Was there something that he might have missed? Were there any telltale signs? Had you deceived him?

“It is the truth.” Treesa shrugs. “Only she does not know it yet. My elder sister, Dessa, is currently in her world and she is going to make herself known to her very soon. Then Dessa may also let her know who she truly is.”

“But she…” For the first time since he was tongue-tied around your presence, Daemon struggles to find the right words. “She is not from Westeros, is she?”

“No,” Treesa explains, “but she is a descendant of a woman who was. A Realmwalker of old, who chose to live her life in Korzion.”

“Well then,” Daemon stands, as if prepared to jump through a portal that very moment, “if she is of this world, then she can surely come here, can she not? There is nothing that can hinder this. You claim she is a Realmwalker like you. Bring her to me. Or… bring me to her. You have done it before.”

“It was Dessa who transported you to Korzion, my prince. And, it is no easy feat to bring another non-walker to Korzion. It can take a heavy toll on any of us. Much was needed to be orchestrated for the King to momentarily travel realms just to coax you back with him.”

Daemon merely petulantly tilts his head, and clenches his jaw, as if to say, ‘how does that help me?’.

The very first Realmwalker or Vyzh-agon was a priestess of the old Religion.

“Sit down, my prince,” Treesa sighs. “You will know of everything soon enough.”

Aesdella, believed to be originally from Old Valyria, and eventually settling in the North of Westeros, was the very first to travel to the realm of Korzion. Our realm. It remains unclear when she was born and when she perished, but she lived well before Aegon’s Conquest. Another source of speculation is how her abilities came to be, but from her bloodline came those with similar abilities. And so forth. Until this very day. 

Only Aesdella’s female descendants inherited this very nature of being a Realmwalker. This power can remain dormant, hidden under the surface, or it can be practiced and essentially turned into a way of living. Such as with the sect of Treesa, Verness, and Dessa, as well as their other sisters and cousins. 

She was believed to be a formidable woman, garnering respect from even those of other religions, and other lands. Though she made sure that her abilities would not be known by others, seeing as she did not trust the nature of men.  These powers, if in the wrong hands, could bring strife to both Korzion and her realm. It has been said that this is why she made sure that only her daughters and their daughters after them would receive her power, but this is mere conjecture.

There are many peculiarities which concern travelling between realms. The Realmwalker would have to envision her precise destination, lest she should accidentally end up in the middle of some remote part of Amazonia. She would require some tools, if she was not necessarily raised in the practice of realm walking. She would need to prick her fingers or her palm with a sharp sliver of moonstone, let her blood meet the raches of a raven’s feather, and recite a chant in High Valyrian. This is enough to awaken the power passed down to her through Aesdella’s bloodline. The feather will turn to ash in her hands, and swirl around her form, multiplying a thousand fold, and in a moment, this daughter of Aesdella will have travelled realms.

Those with immense power resting inside them would eventually not need the moonstone, nor the raven’s feather, after a while. The chanting matched with pure will is enough. 

A Realmwalker may also transport another to Korzion, and vice versa, but this can exact a heavy toll on both parties if done incorrectly. Which is why Viserys’ jump to Korzion could not be done in a haste, and also why Dessa was rendered unconscious for an entire moon’s turn after having to quickly transport Daemon to Korzion following his fatal injury.

“Dessa saved you by transporting you to Korzion, as realm travel can sometimes have regenerative effects on one’s person. Luckily, your jump proved to be so.” Treesa reveals, the dancing firelight casting shadows on her angular face. “She did this because, and I am certain that you do not remember at all, but you once saved her son’s life, Prince Daemon.”

“You will have to be more particular, as I cannot recall every – ”

“Like I said, you do not remember and it does not matter. What matters is that he is alive and well. Dessa is estranged from this son of hers, but will never cease to care for him. It is a mother’s curse.” Treesa shakes her head in disapproval. Daemon feels inclined to think that she has no children of her own. “You saved her son in battle many moons ago, and so Dessa found a spell that ensured you had blood moonstone on your person, wherever you went. This is one way we can maintain a connection to someone, keep an eye out for them. When she sensed you had been grievously harmed, she immediately triggered the moonstone with a spell that would cause you to walk between realms.”

Daemon listens, not because he is especially intrigued by the entire story. He simply sits, waiting for Treesa to speak about you. Who you truly are, and how this expanse between the both of you can be eliminated.

“Did you know, it was by accident… well, somehow at least… that your lady was in the vicinity after you arrived in Korzion?” Treesa laughs dryly. “Realmwalkers can send another individual such as yourself to Korzion so long as there is a beacon there for you to go to. Another Realmwalker, you see. Dessa meant to send you close to Verness who had been visiting with her… Korzioni lover.” Distaste flashes again across Treesa's face, which goes to show that she does not share the same affinity for having lovers, much less children with such lovers, unlike her sisters.

Daemon turns and meets her gaze straight on. “And yet, I was sent to… close to…”

“Yes.” Tressa nods. “Dessa did not know she existed until then. Her great-grandmother was one of us. When she disappeared ages ago, it was believed that she chose to spend the rest of her days in Korzion. Little was known of whether she fell in love, or whether she eventually had Korzioni children. Daughters that would also carry her ability. But apparently, she has.”

A scoff of disbelief and amazement escapes Daemon’s lips.

In Korzion, you sit once again on your couch after another long shift at the hospital. Only this time – and perhaps it has grown out of being a rarity at this point – Tom sits beside you, comfortably slouched a mere few inches away.

“Now, my Rogue prince,” Treesa leans forward on her elbows, the tone having shifted to something much lighter. “Now do you believe in fate?”

You lean away from him, opting to stick close to the armrest, hoping he would take this little hint. But he’s chosen to ignore it, ambling closer to you the first chance he got. 

Your laptop is in the low table in front of you, a new flick playing on the screen. Some new Netflix production that Tom chose, which you weren’t so keen on. But what did it matter?

Company is company. A distraction is a distraction. You probably should head straight to sleep, but you didn’t want to risk having yet another dream of Daemon. Another dream that will end abruptly and wrench you back into this grim reality. 

Remnants of takeout sushi containers are scattered on the kitchen counter. When Tom suggested pizza, you were quick to protest. Daemon loved pizza, and he loathed sushi. So, why not have sushi on this fine evening?

“So when will you get to reading it?” Tom asks, referring to the book he lent you. He initially wanted to give it to you as a gift, but you said you didn’t want a gift if there was no occasion. When he responded with, “I don’t need some special occasion to give a gift to a beautiful girl I care about,” you struggled so very hard to maintain a straight face and not roll your eyes. 

Daemon would hate this. If he still cared.

“I guess I’ll start tonight.” You lie, picking the book from your lap, pretending to peruse the back cover. “Seems like quite the read. I don’t think it will be like any of the other books I’ve read.” Of course it won’t. Because I would never purchase this myself.

“That’s great! You’ll love it, it’s a New York Times bestseller. I found it on BookTok.” He says, as if to reassure you, though it doesn’t really do the job.

You sense his arm snaking behind you on the seat, and before you can make some excuse about having to get some water, an unexpected knock echoes from the front door. 

Thank you. Whoever you are.

You rush toward it, finding Dessa on the other side.

“Nuha riña,” she says, a wide smile on her face. “It’s time.”

She said it again. I knew it.  “What the fu-”

She looks over your shoulder, noticing Tom standing close behind, as if in protection. “What about Daemon?” She asks sincerely.

Daemon? You feel your heartbeat falter, taken aback by someone else saying his name out loud. 

“H-how? You never met him. He was gone before you even came to work at…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully. “Who are you?”

She takes your hands in hers, a firm yet gentle hold. 

“The question, my dear, is who are you?”

end of part three.

______________________

*preview* of part 4

October 2023 / the 10th Moon, 113 AC

“This is real?” Your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel somewhat floaty, as if you’re nowhere at all. Perhaps, you are nowhere, not in your realm and not in Daemon’s, but somewhere in the middle. “Am I doing this? Is it working?”

Daemon, who was frozen at the sight of you,  immediately strides forward. Desperate to feel you, his hands hold onto whatever he can. Your face, your hips, your hands. “My darling, all of this is fucking astonishing, and we can certainly marvel at what you can do to no end, but quite frankly, right this moment I could hardly bring myself to care.”

He smashes his lips to yours. They move relentlessly, as if on their own accord, their master groaning like a starved beast. You feel him, or you think you do, his familiar scent engulfing you, and he feels like home. You feel his silver hair sliding between your fingertips, his sharp teeth gnawing gently at your lips, his fingernails digging into your backside and melding your torso onto his.

Daemon is not one to waste time, that’s for sure.

“I miss you,” you breathe, as he kisses down the hollow of your throat.

“As I you, my love.” Daemon purrs, nipping at your collarbone, breathing you in. “You simply have no idea…”

You feel him, but only just… and it’s not enough. But it’ll have to do.

“Daemon… this is…” You try to voice out your concern, despite the moment. Dessa was right, your corporeal forms cannot meet through your projection; the two of you stand in your bedroom, but everything seems to be enveloped in a thick fog. If you press hard enough, you think your fingers will simply pass through Daemon as if he were a spectre. You realize that he knows this, too, but chooses to ignore it. 

“This is the closest we’ve been in far too fucking long, my love. It would have been sooner if those cunts made greater effort to – ”

You snort, confronted once more with how brash he can be. “Daemon, those cunts? Really? I am one of them, you know. Besides, it’s not their fault.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” His lips form a desperate, wanting smile, as he connects his forehead to yours. “Let me have this. Have you. I need you.”

He’s right. In physical form or otherwise, he is still your Daemon. And you have craved each other too much to be denied any kind of reunion.

“Okay.” Your hand reaches up to cradle his face, and he leans into it. He then looks around, appraising your chambers, as he used to say.

“Nothing has changed.” He hums, while holding you tightly to him, as if he’s afraid that you might dissolve into air. “What is this now? Ever the reader, my heart.” He reaches for the crisp, new paperback novel atop your dresser. 

“Oh, that’s… yeah, someone lent it to me.”

“It certainly does not seem too suited to your tastes.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Astute observation. It’s my neighbour’s. He apparently thought I needed something new to read.” When he gave you the book, Tom happily explained how he thought you should, “...expose yourself to other things. Things you possibly haven’t tried out before. New films, books, friends. You know to help you forget all about…”

“Your neighbour – what was he called? Tim?” Daemon’s lips curl in distaste.

“You remember his name, Daemon.” You roll your eyes at your lover, and his poorly-veiled jealousy. You were one and the same.

“You have been letting him inside your house?” He inquires, voice dropping an entire octave. If looks could kill…

You nod slowly, carefully. “He’s been visiting every now and then. It’s not a big deal.”

Daemon tilts his head, a sinister look appearing on his face. Smirking, he leans in and whispers, “Has that mongrel taken my place, dearest?”

You swallow thickly, his darkened gaze doing much and more to break your self-control. If he doesn’t stand down… well.

“Has any lady taken mine? In that amazing, grand realm of yours, Prince Daemon?” You respond, rising to his challenge. Your fingers snake in between the low-collar of his white tunic. Only Daemon has ever been able to elicit this out of you.

He enjoys the way you directly meet his eyes, unwavering in your stead. No one ever looked at him in such a way; not one has ever seen him as you do. Daemon has always inspired fear and intimidation in others. Those who find themselves comfortable enough to hold a conversation with the Rogue Prince tend to feel ill at ease or on their guard. As if he might turn on them at any moment. 

People usually mosey up to him because of a favour. Because of his status, his reputation. Because they want something out of him. 

But not you. No. Daemon knows that he has only ever inspired love in you.

Well, that and what might have been absolute surprise followed by wariness, when he was suddenly sprung into your world, injured and in a coat of full armour.

He kisses you passionately in response. Once, then pulling away only to breathe, and again, and again.

“No one can ever replace you.” He swears. He has never been a devout man, but in that moment, he curses all the gods that you two are apart. Meeting in this middle-realm is insufficient. He feels you, somehow. But he does not feel your warmth, nor the goosebumps on your skin from his touch. You are there, but you are not. 

But it will have to do. For now.

“Is this ailing you? Sustaining a connection like this, in this place?” Daemon asks.

“Not really,” you admit. “Dessa says I’ll feel quite exhausted afterward, but it shouldn’t take too big of a toll on me. I’m learning the ropes, and there’s a lot to learn. I mean… this is fucking insane.”

“And here you thought me extraordinary. When it was you all along.”

“Hardly.” You smile in return. If you could feel warmth right now, you would certainly feel it blooming across your face. “I’m not the only one, it seems. And, my great-grandmother… she was from your world.” Your smile stretches twofold in awe. 

He brushes a stray strand from your face.

“The Rogue Prince and his Realmwalker. We were always meant to find each other.”

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Here we are - it's been a LONG time coming.

Grateful to all of yous for struggling through this wait. I know how much of a pain it is when a fic I'm reading just can't get updated soon enough. You guys deserve Daemon Targaryen at his very best 🖤

Oh and fire like yours isn't losing the somewhat lighthearted tone it might have had. The next part is when mayhem ensues, involving denim, vintage leather jackets, pizza!!!, etc. in Westeros. I just had to get through all this explaining as to how Daemon somehow ended up in our world (Korzion).

Maroon part three up next!

[elix8r]

Rare and Pure (cbg)

PAIRING: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

GENRES: angst (it's really distressing at parts), smut, a teaspoon of fluff, werewolf!au, friends to lovers, mates, accidental lover

WARNINGS: this story contains some dark themes so pls beware! profanity, unrequited love, kidnapping, drugging, dubcon? its not sexual, abusive behavior, implications of murder, choking, descriptions of blood, violence, drinking, mates, talk of death/dying, IM SO SORRY RIIZE ARE WRITTEN AS THE EVIL GUYS ESP WONBIN RIP, sexual content: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, drunk sex, knotting, cumming inside, rough sex, biting, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, bulging, breeding, choking

SUMMARY:

“But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.“ - Patrick Rothfuss

Choi Yeonjun was the love of your life, the one you were unequivocally sure the Moon Goddess had chosen for you. His younger brother, Beomgyu, on the other hand, didn't even register on your radar as mate material. But fate, as it often does, had other plans. One night was all it took for your entire life to flip around as you found yourself accidentally mated to your childhood friend. Now, you're left grappling with the emotional wreckage of it all as you are not only struggling to feel the unbreakable connection that mates are supposed to share with Beomgyu, but you're also dealing with the harsh reality that your dreams of forever with Yeonjun will never come to fruition. It's a bitter pill to swallow, and it's forcing you to reevaluate your very sense of self. Your wolf clearly had some serious explaining to do.

WORD COUNT: 21.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i know this story took so long but thank you to everyone for waiting! i really went through it writing this cause it was a rollercoaster of emotions but it's truly my baby and i adore this story so much so i hope you guys enjoy it and was worth the wait! beomgyu is a sexy lover here and an even sexier wolf (rawr xd) so hope that's exciting for you guys and i'm so sorry but i literally put names of groups into an auto generator machine to pick who was going to be the villain and it chose riize so i'm so sorry for their depictions cause they are despicable here but know i meant no harm and i adore them it's all just for the story! anyways hope you guys have fun reading it and please give me some feedback! Happy Holidays!!!

You felt conflicted coming to this conclusion because you genuinely loved the girl, but you couldn't help but blame your current predicament on Huh Yunjin and her family's recent move to your town.

New families were rare, especially as it meant they would become new members of the pack. However, an old and close friend of the Alpha had decided to relocate, prompting a warm welcome and an invitation to join the pack. When you heard that the new family had a daughter your age, you eagerly volunteered to give her a tour.

The family was to move into the vacant house on the other side of the neighborhood. And on that day, you excitedly watched the moving truck arrive from your window, clutching a box of cookies lovingly baked by your mother for the new family. 

Your family held a prominent position within the pack, with your father serving as the Beta and every bit of you exuded that high status. Being an only child furthermore assured you to grow up to be confident and bold, but you also tried to be welcoming to all which made it easy for you to make friends. It seemed though, that Yunjin was quite the opposite of you as she was quieter and less outwardly exuberant, but she still was quite friendly and happy that you were showing her around.

"So that's the pack house, and since your dad is close friends with the Alpha, I'm sure you’ll be over sometime soon.” You flashed her a wide smile, concluding the tour as you both headed back to your house. Yunjin appeared a bit overwhelmed, understandably so. She had just moved to a new town, knowing no one, and you had bombarded her with information about the pack and the town within an hour.

"Oh, and next door is my house! You're welcome anytime; just come over, and we can hang out. Right next door is my best friend Taehyun's house. He’s away right now, but he’ll be back soon, and I can introduce you two. I’m sure you'll get along!" A grin spread across your face, thinking about your best friend whom you hadn't seen in a while.

Taehyun had left for a trip with his father and a few pack elders a week ago, focusing on improving his tracking skills. However, he would return soon, and you were confident that he and Yunjin (along with the others in your friend group) would hit it off, so you were eagerly anticipating everyone meeting. From the hour you had spent with the girl, you could already tell that she was going to be a great addition to the pack. 

"Wow, thank you so much. I was honestly nervous about moving because I've never had an easy time making friends, but I feel really lucky to have met you. You seem to know everyone and everything." Yunjin smiled appreciatively at your kind offer, and you beamed back at her. However, before you could say anything else, the front door of the pack house swung open.

His scent reached you even before he came into view, instantly stirring up a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. Choi Yeonjun had captivated you since the moment you met him, and you were certain that you were in love. The word "perfect" was the only one that could adequately describe the oldest son of the Alpha. Your heart ached in his presence, and you knew that this was no fleeting crush like the ones you had experienced before. This was love, a profound and all-encompassing emotion unlike anything else.

"Hey, Y/N!" The combination of his voice and smirk threatened to make you weak in the knees, but you managed to maintain your composure as you smiled back at him.

"Hey, Yeonjun! This is Yunjin. She's the daughter of the new family in town, and I was just showing her around." Yunjin revealed earlier that espite their fathers being close, she had never never met the rest of the Alpha’s family. Yunjin greeted Yeonjun with a shy smile as he extended his hand for a handshake.

"Oh yeah, my dad mentioned that. He was pretty excited that his old friend and his family were joining our pack. Well, nice to meet you, Yunjin. I'm Yeonjun, the oldest and the only Choi kid important enough for you to meet. Don't worry about Soobin and Beomgyu, you're better off not even meeting them." You silently agreed with him, although your biased opinion was clearly influenced by your feelings for him. Yunjin seemed to relax further with his warm welcome and playful introduction.

"You're really lucky to have Y/N showing you around. She's like a celebrity in our pack. She knows everyone, so if you ever need anything, she's your best bet." He smiled at Yunjin and playfully nudged you. "Well, I have to go bring Beomgyu his clothes. That stupid bastard decided to go for a run without taking anything, and we're literally supposed to be going over to Elder Kwan's house for dinner in a couple of minutes. You know how my mom would kill him if he showed up in his wolf form. Anyways, it was nice meeting you, Yunjin. Y/N, I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting." With an affectionate ruffle of your hair, he waved goodbye and left.

Despite your efforts, Yeonjun seemed oblivious to your feelings, treating you more like a sister than a lover. Yet, you remained convinced in its belief that a deeper connection existed between you both. The inexplicable emotions that surfaced whenever he was near convinced you that destiny had intertwined your paths for a reason.

"Wow, he seems really nice," Yunjin commented, her tone subtly shifting. In retrospect, you should have picked up on the change, but you were too captivated by Yeonjun's presence to notice. Unfortunately, your obliviousness would soon come and bite you in the ass.

Several weeks had slipped by since your new friend, Yunjin, had made her entrance. Your hunch had proven right – she seamlessly melded with your well-established crew, like the missing puzzle piece you didn't know you needed. Initially quiet and reserved, she shed her timid shell bit by bit, especially as you all hung out more. Just yesterday, she had even joined in on a run in full wolf form with everyone which sure helped tighten the bond that had been growing stronger. 

If you could have it your way, you would currently be with them at the local movie theater where you knew everyone but you were. Yet, reality had you poking at your food, stealing subtle glances across the table at your crush, whom you had strategically sat down in front of.

Even before you were born, it had been a tradition for your family to go over to the pack house and have dinner with the Alpha’s family every first Tuesday of the month, and so here you were. 

"Ok well, I'll get the dishes, and if you kids could help clear the table for dessert, that would be helpful," your mother said, quick to get up and head towards the kitchen with a couple of plates in her hand, prompting everyone else to follow her directions.

"Dinner was amazing as usual," your dad kindly thanked the Luna. "We have a couple of things to talk about regarding the matter we discussed earlier, so we'll be in the office." Clearly, he was trying to make the conversation confidential, but your dad wasn't the best at keeping secrets, and you (and probably the boys) had already caught on to what he was referring to. It honestly wasn't that hard to figure out, considering it had been the only thing anyone in your pack had been discussing recently.

Rumors had been circulating around that an unfamiliar pack was closing in on the town your pack had been inhabiting for over a century. Sightings of rogue wolves have also been on the increase, which explained Taehyun's unexpected tracking trip. While this didn't necessarily mean that your pack was in immediate danger, it was crucial to remain cautious. Precautionary actions, such as doubling up security around the borders, had already been taken, and the pack's council was now prioritizing finding out who exactly was approaching their territory and their intentions.

As you watched your dad and the Alpha head towards the office, out of nowhere, a voice caught you off guard, forcing you to take your eyes off of them. "Hey, can you come to my room after this? I need to talk to you about something."

Beomgyu, despite being the same age, had always been the Choi boy you were the least close with. While you still had a strong bond with him from being raised as pups alongside one another, your relationship with Yeonjun and Soobin was undoubtedly stronger. So, hearing this request from Beomgyu surprised you.

"Why can't you just tell me here?" You questioned him while taking plates back into the kitchen where your mom and the Luna could be seen washing the dishes while engaging in an animated conversation.

Beomgyu followed closely behind you, also holding dishes in his hand. "I just can't. Just come upstairs with me, please."

You frowned a little, trying to figure out on your own what was so important that Beomgyu had to speak to you in private. However, you had to admit that you were a bit curious about what he had to say, so you gave him a small nod. "Ok, fine."

As the two of you made your way towards the staircase, Soobin must have noticed and halted you and Beomgyu. "Where do you two think you're going without even helping us finish cleaning up the table?"

"Ugh, fuck off Soobin, we already helped. We'll be back when Mom brings out the pie," Beomgyu retorted, rolling his eyes. But before he could take another step, another voice stopped him.

"Wait, seriously what are you guys up to?" Yeonjun's eyes sparkled with curiosity at the unusual sight of you two heading off on your own. Normally, he and Soobin were part of the group.

"It's none of your business," Beomgyu replied, clearly annoyed at all the questions.

"Hold on, I want in on whatever you two are doing. What's with all the secrecy?" You, too, grew increasingly curious about why Beomgyu wanted to speak to you privately, excluding his older brothers from the conversation.

"Oh my god, it's just between me and Y/N. Seriously, fuck off," Beomgyu's patience was wearing thin, which was no surprise considering his brothers often had that effect on him.

"Just you and Y/N? And you're going to your room? Hmm, sounds a little–" Soobin's insinuation was cut off by your swift response.

"Jesus, Soobin. It's nothing like that. We'll be back quickly," you assured him, not wanting to entertain any unnecessary assumptions being thrown, especially in front of Yeonjun. He could get the wrong idea. So with that, you swiftly turned around and headed to Beomgyu's room, leaving Soobin and Yeonjun behind.

"Fucking Soobin and his nosy ass," Beomgyu muttered in annoyance as he followed you into his room. You were familiar with every single room in the pack house, including his, and as always, it looked exactly as you remembered. Impeccably clean, which never failed to surprise you. It was also unsurprising that his warm and woodsy scent was intensified in his room. However, you sensed that this did trigger a strange reaction from your wolf, but you pushed her aside, ignoring her peculiar behavior (which she had been having more frequently recently) and without even asking for permission, you plopped onto his neatly made bed.

"Ok, now what was so important that you needed to talk to me alone?" you inquired, watching as Beomgyu closed the door and settled into his desk chair.

"I like your friend Yunjin, the new girl," Beomgyu stated plainly, and the random confession had you sitting up straight in surprise.

"What?" You gave him an incredulous look, still processing why he had brought you all the way up here to reveal this information.

"She’s hot and I’d like to get with her so I need help from you," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You continued to give him a confused look with a hint of disgust at his words, but you gathered up your thoughts to respond. "What the fuck, Beomgyu? Did you drag me all the way up here for that? I mean haven’t you already met her? And what would I even get out of helping you with this?"  

“Yeah, I’ve met her briefly a couple of times cause of our parents but like I need someone on the inside to you know, scope out her feelings and like maybe put in a couple of good words about me.” His persistent nonchalant expression and tone struck a nerve, aggravating you further, especially since he hadn't addressed how this would benefit you.

"Beomgyu, I’m not doing that for you. There are at least ten other guys I'd consider trying to set her up with before even considering you. If you're so interested in dating her, my suggestion is to just go and ask her out like any normal person would." Rolling your eyes, you stood up, intending to leave the conversation. However, his next words halted you in your tracks.

“I’ll help you with Yeonjun.” 

It was obvious that growing up together had given him an edge in understanding you too well. Those five simple words were all it took for you to reluctantly agree to assist your childhood friend in pursuing the new girl in town.

In the midst of blaring music and flashing lights that seemed determined to trigger a headache, you found yourself in an obnoxiously loud club on a Saturday night. This was the last place you would have willingly chosen to spend your evening, but circumstances had led you here. When you initially agreed to assist Beomgyu, you envisioned a more thoughtful and gradual approach to make Yunjin develop feelings for him. However, your expectations were shattered earlier when Beomgyu unexpectedly appeared at your doorstep, barging in without a second thought and heading straight for your room.

You were aware that some of your friends had plans to hit the nearby club tonight, an invitation you had initially declined. Your preference was to stay at home, engrossed in the pages of the new book you had recently acquired. But Beomgyu seemed to have other plans, disregarding your intentions the moment he stepped into your house. Apparently, he had caught wind of the possibility that Yunjin might be among those venturing out for the night.

"Sure, I knew she was going out," you shrugged, your attention split between applying makeup and addressing Beomgyu, who had made himself comfortable on your bed.

"You knew? And you didn't tell me? Come on, Y/N, I thought we had some kind of agreement!" His sigh carried a tinge of exasperation, clearly disappointed by your perceived negligence.

"Apologies for not realizing I was your designated Yunjin-schedule informant. That's bordering on creepy, by the way. And I thought that we were going to take things slow. Plus, why do I have to tag along? Since you're in the loop now, can't you just go by yourself?" Despite your rapid-fire inquiries, you continued meticulously applying your makeup. 

"Do you not remember? That's exactly why I came to you. I need help seamlessly integrating myself into her life, making it seem natural and subtle. Take tonight, for example! I'll play it cool, like I had no clue she'd be here. You'll join our conversation, kick-start it naturally, and then gracefully bow out, leaving us to continue. It's a flawless plan, trust me. Plus, seeing you actually putting in some effort to make this work will make me more motivated to help you with my brother." Beomgyu, as usual, carried on with his chatter. To be honest, you found the plan a bit nonsensical, but considering what was at stake for you, you ended up donning that cute new outfit you had been saving for a different night out. Before you knew it, you were in Beomgyu's car, en route to the club.

Normally, you wouldn't mind a night out at a club like this, and you would typically have agreed without a second thought. Lately, however, you had felt more inclined to stay home, and the odd behavior of your wolf throughout the week made you hesitant to introduce alcohol into the mix. Nonetheless, since you were already here, you decided it was a good opportunity to let loose a little.

Amid the deafening music, Beomgyu's voice rang out, "So, have you spotted them yet?" You leaned against the bar, waiting for your drink.

Surveying the crowd upon your arrival, you had even tried to identify them by scent, but the throng of people made it challenging. "Not yet, but let's move around. I'm sure we'll be able to find them soon." With one hand gripping your vodka lemonade, you and Beomgyu started moving around, staying close to make sure not to be separated within the bustling club. 

Out of the corner of your eye, a familiar face caught your attention, instantly recognizable. "C'mon, I found them!" You hurriedly exclaimed, gesturing in the direction of your best friend, dragging Beomgyu along.

Taehyun's eyes widened as he spotted you approaching. "Y/N, I thought you were staying in tonight? You should have texted!" Beomgyu emerged behind you, and Taehyun's surprise morphed into confusion. "Oh, and you brought Beomgyu along?"

It wasn't that you and Beomgyu weren't on good terms or weren't friends, but the sight of the two of you together wasn't a common occurrence unless it involved family matters. After all, you both had different sets of friends. So, your unexpected duo not only grabbed Taehyun's attention but also that of a few others in the group.

“Yeah uh I ended up changing my mind and he was heading out too so I just grabbed a ride from him.” You brushed off his question lightly before scanning your eyes around your group of friends, looking for a specific face. 

It appeared Beomgyu was on the same page, as you felt a gentle nudge from him. "Did Yunjin come out with you guys?"

"Yep, she did! She's just in the restroom and will probably be back soon." Kazhua, your other close friend, greeted you with a tipsy smile before she resumed engaging in lively conversation with her boyfriend, Kai who spared you two a wave.

Thanking her, you felt a sense of relaxation settling in as you basked in the company of your friends. The drink in your hand was starting to take effect, lifting your spirits and making you feel lighter. Observing Beomgyu from beside you, you could tell he was loosening up as well as he seemed to be engaging in friendly banter with Taehyun. Seeing them dab each other up as if they were best bros had you rolling your eyes.

"So spill the beans. What's the real deal here between the two of you? I’m obviously not buying your story and getting a ride from him wouldn't lead to you sticking together even when you found us. Are you guys seeing each other? I swear, I won't say a word to anyone if you are!" Chaewon slung her arm around you, her eyes playfully dancing as she gestured towards Beomgyu.

A puzzled expression creased your pretty face as you processed her question. Chaewon was probably your closest friend after Taehyun, and she had a knack for uncovering every detail about your life. However, her insinuation of a romantic connection between you and your neighbor had you almost freezing from surprise. You couldn't afford to give the impression that something was brewing between you and Beomgyu, especially when your mission tonight was to make Yunjin notice him. Plus, there really wasn’t anything happening between the two of you.

"Wait, hold on a second. Jesus, Chaewon. Seriously, it's not what you're thinking. I promise it was just a ride," you replied, attempting to brush off her inquiries. Yet, the skepticism in her expression told you she wasn't entirely convinced.

"Well, that's not what Soobin said." You inwardly cursed, momentarily forgetting that Soobin had been recently seeing Chaewon. It was clear that he had shared how he and Yeonjun had caught you and Beomgyu sneaking off alone upstairs to his room. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Soobin. You need to tell him to mind his own business. And seriously, he's just trying to be a pain in the ass. I promise you, there's absolutely nothing going on between us. If there were, I would've been the one to tell you, and not leave it to Soobin to play messenger." Your fervent response finally seemed to ease Chaewon's suspicions, as she nodded in understanding.

"Alright, I believe you. But remember, even if there's a hint of something happening, you better let me know and give me the details. I don’t want to have to rely on Soobin of all people to get all my juicy gossip from," Chaewon's playful yet determined expression made you chuckle. Just before you could respond, a familiar voice caught your attention.

"Y/N! Oh my god, you're here! I thought you said you weren't coming out?" Yunjin's excitement spilled over through both her voice and her actions as she enveloped you in a warm hug.

Clearly, a few drinks had loosened Yunjin up; her eyes carried a playful glint, and her usually composed demeanor had given way to lively energy. Amidst her effervescence, you were also able to catch a glimpse of Beomgyu's eyes lighting up with eagerness upon spotting her. Lost in the thrill of finally locating your target for the night, both you and Beomgyu had failed to notice that Yunjin hadn't returned from the restroom alone.

"Hey, Y/N," a familiar voice greeted you from behind her presence, and a flurry of emotions erupted within you as your heart raced in response. Despite the time that had passed, you were still defenseless against the effect Yeonjun had on you.

"Hey, Yeonjun! I had no idea you were joining us tonight," You managed to regain your composure, your voice finally steadying as you exchanged greetings.

"Yeah, I mean I just came with Changbin and a couple of the other guys, but I stumbled upon her when she was wandering around lost, trying to find her way back to your group. Naturally, I couldn't resist lending a hand. You know me, I never leave a helpless pretty girl alone." A quick wink from Yeonjun, and you could see Yunjin's amused giggles in response.

Yeonjun's reputation as a major flirt wasn't a secret, but witnessing his overt flirting with your new friend right before you stung a little. Though you did your best to brush it off as his usual playfulness and quickly put on a wide smile in return.

"Well, thanks so much for returning her to us safely," you playfully retorted, echoing his tone. You then quickly downed the last of your drink, hoping to mask the twinge of anxiety that the sight of their interaction stirred within you.

As Yeonjun weaved his way through the group, your gaze remained fixed on him. Like always, you were unable to resist your attraction towards him, but this time, you were far from oblivious. Quickly noting the close proximity he maintained with Yunjin as they navigated around the table, a small frown formed on your face. When’d they get so close?

"Hey, when did you arrive? Changbin could've given you a ride along with me if you had mentioned you were coming," Yeonjun greeted his brother. However, it was evident that Beomgyu's attention remained steadfastly fixed on Yunjin, his focus unyielding even as his brother spoke. Maybe your initial assumptions of his interest in your friend were wrong. With the look he was giving your friend, it seemed that maybe there was more to the attraction than just physical.  

Recognizing the opportune moment to step in and work your magic, you decided to make your move. Yeonjun appeared engrossed in conversation with his brother and your best friend, giving you the chance you needed. Swiftly, you moved over to where Yunjin stood and linked arms with her. With a clear plan in mind, you guided her away to the bar, seeking both a private conversation and a refill.

Once at the bar, you ordered drinks for the two of you and then turned your attention to Yunjin. "So, how's the night treating you? Are you enjoying yourself?" you inquired with a friendly smile.

Yunjin accepted the drink gratefully, seemingly oblivious to your underlying motives. Her smile lit up as she responded, "Honestly, I'm having a blast, especially now that you're here!"

"Aww, that's great to hear! Is everyone being nice to you? How are you liking the club? Anyone catch your eye?" You smoothly slipped in the last question, hoping to naturally lead the conversation towards Beomgyu. 

Though a pang of guilt tugged at you for manipulating your friend, you reminded yourself of the agreement you'd made. The possibility of finally attaining your desires was too enticing to let pass, and after all, if Yunjin genuinely fell for Beomgyu, was it truly manipulation on your part?

Yunjin's laughter tinkled in response to your questions, and she leaned against the bar. "Everyone's been wonderful, and I really appreciate you welcoming me into your friend group. As for the club, it's incredible. Back in my previous town, we had nothing like this, so this is a whole new experience for me." After a sip of her drink, she looked at you, and you eagerly awaited her response to your previous question.

"I’m not going to lie; everyone in this pack is ridiculously good-looking, so naturally, they've all grabbed my attention in some way. But, I have to admit, there's someone who's been on my mind. It's still way too early to say, and I'm not in a rush to find a mate, but I've never felt such a strong connection with someone this quickly. I can't help but wonder if he might be the one the Goddess has in store for me." Her words instantly grabbed your attention. If there was a possibility that Yunjin had already discovered her mate within the pack, it could complicate your task of steering her towards Beomgyu. 

Eagerly, you pressed on, "Come on, you’ve gotta tell me! I know all the ins and outs of this pack. Depending on who it is, I could probably give you some insights—whether they're a catch or a red flag, especially if you feel they could be the one." Your enthusiasm prompted Yunjin to consider sharing, and as you leaned in, she relented.

"Alright, alright I guess it wouldn't hurt to get some female insight, but since the first time you introduced us, I think I've kind of felt something with Yeonjun." Her words hit you with unexpected force, instantly hardening your face. 

Despite witnessing their interactions with one another earlier, it was apparent that you had been more preoccupied with your own infatuations for the older boy that you hadn’t even had the chance to realize the possibility of her attraction towards him– the very person you had been secretly in love with for what felt like an eternity. 

She remained oblivious to the quick shift in your expression as she carried on. "Like I said, it's definitely too early to make any conclusions, but I genuinely believe there's something special with him. Even today, running into him had my wolf practically giddy, and that has to mean something, right? Every time we bump into each other, which seems to happen a lot lately, we just click effortlessly and I just feel like I could talk to him for hours. He's so cute, and I kind of sense he might be dropping hints of interest, so fingers crossed, right?" Her animated enthusiasm while discussing the boy tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a sense of despair.

"Yeah, he's a great guy," you managed to mumble, though the green monster of jealousy began to rear its head within you. "Just be cautious, though. Yeonjun is a fantastic guy, but his reputation with girls isn't the best. He's known in the pack as a bit of a flirt, and he hasn't really had many long-term relationships. Honestly, there have been plenty of girls who've come and gone, so I just don't want to see you get hurt by him."

Your words weren't entirely false; Yeonjun did have a bit of a player reputation within your community, but it wasn't as extreme as you portrayed it. It had mostly been a phase during his high school and early college years. Now that he was out of school, he appeared to have matured and settled down. Nonetheless, it had been a while since you'd seen him seriously involved with anyone, so witnessing his connection with Yunjin had you wanting to go back home and cry. 

Her expression briefly faltered, but a determined smile soon replaced it. "Well, maybe he just hasn't met the right person yet! Thanks for the heads-up on his past, but I'm not easily discouraged. Honestly, it's better than hearing he's an asshole or mistreats girls. Who knows, maybe I'll be the one to change him!"

"Well, there are plenty of other great guys in the pack you might not have had a chance to get to know yet. Keeping your options open might not be a bad idea, especially since you mentioned you're not in a rush to mate. You know Beomgyu, right? He's an awesome guy, and I think you two would really hit it off. Actually, let’s go find him!" Without waiting for her response, you eagerly take her hand and lead her back to your group.

But as you returned to the group, your intentions to subtly steer her closer to Beomgyu were abruptly interrupted by Yeonjun's appearance. "Hey, I was looking for you. I found the guys I mentioned earlier and I want to introduce you to them," he said, his focus solely on Yunjin as he guided her away from you, towards his friends who were on the dance floor, making you feel invisible in the process. The way he looked towards Yunjin confirmed everything you needed to know.  

Beomgyu appeared engrossed in an animated conversation with Taehyun and Jeongin when you hurried back to the group. Without a moment's hesitation, you seized his hand and pulled him away from the others, heading back toward the bar with a sense of urgency in your steps.

"What the fu—" Beomgyu began, but he stopped short as he took in your distressed expression.

"I think Yeonjun is Yunjin's mate," was all you managed to say before tears you had been suppressing welled up and trickled down your cheeks.

To outsiders, it might seem overly dramatic to cry over a guy, but Yeonjun wasn't just any guy to you. He was the one you had been in love with for as long as you could remember, and now it felt like your world was crashing down. You might have been labeled naive or unrealistic, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt like hell. Witnessing Yeonjun's face light up in a way you'd never seen before, all because of a girl who wasn't you, was a heart-wrenching reality. Beomgyu seemed to grasp this as he reached out, pulling you into his arms.

"How do you know? Did she say something?" Beomgyu's usual teasing tone, often centered around your crush on his brother, disappeared. He now spoke with genuine concern, understanding the depth of your feelings for Yeonjun.

All you could manage was a nod against Beomgyu's warm chest. The two of you remained in that embrace for a minute, an unusual scene not just because it was unprecedented between you two but also because it was happening in the middle of a club.

Finally, you stepped away from the hug, your eyes, which were gradually drying, locked onto Beomgyu. "She mentioned feeling a connection with him since the first day they met. She even said she thinks he might be her mate. But I wasn't sure until I saw how he looked at her. He's never looked at me like that. I'm sorry, Beomgyu. I really tried to tell her about you, but it seems like she's only got Yeonjun on her mind."

Beomgyu's response was unexpectedly understanding. "No, no, don't apologize. It's totally fine. If anything, I'm the one who should say sorry. I dragged you here today, and it's clear that your feelings for Yeonjun are on a whole different level than the physical attraction I had with Yunjin. I'm sorry about all of this, Y/N," he added, shaking his head.

"Hey, let's grab a drink and talk about something else. We're already here, so we might as well make the most of it and distract ourselves from those two." The idea of shifting your focus away from what had just transpired was a welcomed one, and you didn't hesitate to nod your head to accept his offer.

It all began quite mildly with vodka lemonades, but it quickly escalated into a flurry of shots, with each one sliding down your throat. Before you knew it, you found yourself intoxicated beyond your usual limits, a sensation that didn't bother you in the least. Beomgyu was on the same wild ride, and it seemed that both of you were in a state of inebriation that you rarely reached.

The club's atmosphere was electric, with the deep bass of the music reverberating inside you. Your sweaty bodies drew nearer and nearer to each other, and soon, you felt as though you were moving as one. It was a level of closeness you had never experienced with Beomgyu as you had never seen him in a romantic light. Undeniably, he was one of the most attractive people you knew (the entire Choi family seemed blessed in that department), but your heart had always belonged to the eldest Choi brother. However, in this moment, with a shattered heart and a new perspective, your childhood friend had taken on an entirely different allure which definitely explained the position you were currently in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You were practically screaming as Beomgyu increased the speed of his thrusts. 

Having sex in a grimy club’s bathroom with your next-door neighbor was definitely the last thing you expected this night to take you, but here you were with your pants down panting into Beomgyu’s mouth as you felt all of him inside you. 

While you weren’t practically sure when you moved from dancing on the dance floor to fucking in the bathroom, you definitely didn’t mind though, as you were getting your mind absolutely fucked out. You weren’t sure if it was the multitude of alcohol you had consumed or the after-effects of finding out about Yunjin and Yeonjun’s connection with one another, but your body seemed to be at an extreme high with the way you were feeling Beomgyu everywhere on your body. It was different from any other sexual experience you’ve had with other wolves and the way your body responded to his was automatic, as if you were perfectly tailored for him and him only.  

With one hand on your breast, while the other was in your hair, pulling your head back to get easier access to your neck, Beomgyu also couldn’t help but feel a similar high. He’d never thought that seeing your fucked out expressions under him would give him this amount of pleasure, but now that he’s experienced it, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to stop thinking about it. You felt perfect around him and smelled so enticing, it was stirring his wolf to absolute madness. No matter how deeply he attempted to bury his nose in your throat, it was not enough. His wolf was screaming for something more. He needed to taste you and he knew exactly what he needed to do. 

Pain exploded within you while you reached your peak and the the dynamic between pleasure and pain was almost too much for you as you felt your knees buckling while you felt yourself sliding down the stall’s door before Beomgyu caught you. 

Without hesitation, Beomgyu had bit you right where your shoulders and neck met, ensuring his claim on you. And before you could process what was happening, your wolf took over to reciprocate the act, completing the mating process. 

A lingering pain held you both in place, your teeth still sunk into each other's skin. Then, like a sudden, undeniable realization, it hit you with the force of a freight train. You and Beomgyu had just marked each other, forging an irreversible connection that would permanently link your fates.

Beomgyu still seemed to be in a daze, his bite unrelenting, and panic coursed through your intoxicated body. With a sudden burst of force, you pushed him away, and at last, he released his grip. As he took in your disheveled appearance and the newly marked skin, the weight of his actions seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks, his eyes widening in realization.

"Fuck! What the hell did we just do?" you screamed at him, hastily pulling up your pants and bolting out of the stall. Beomgyu followed, his words stuttering in his panic. "I-I don't know, shit!"

You dashed to the mirror, inspecting your neck, and what you saw made your heart sink. The bite was deep, and you could make out every detail of his teeth. A trickle of blood ran down your shoulder, and you winced in pain as you carefully traced the mark. Turning around, you pulled his shirt to the side to examine his neck, finding an almost identical bite mark, mirroring your own. There was no denying that the two of you had permanently claimed each other.

Panic was overwhelming, and the alcohol only added to the haze that clouded your thoughts. You rushed out of the bathroom with Beomgyu hot on your heels, shouting your name as you weaved your way through the growing mass of dancing bodies, which seemed to have multiplied in the last hour.

Your desperate attempt to reach the front door came to an abrupt halt when you accidentally collided with the last thing you needed to see tonight. Before you could turn and find another route, you found yourself facing the one scene that would shatter your already fragile state.

Yeonjun and Yunjin were passionately entwined on the dance floor, their lips locked in a heated kiss. Before you could react, they both noticed your distressed presence. "Y/N?" Yunjin called out.

Overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions and events, you couldn't fully deduce on how to react, and you felt your eyes burning as tears blurred your vision. Beomgyu had finally caught up to you, but his arrival only served to intensify the situation. Yeonjun, with his keen senses, quickly picked up on the extremely potent mix of your and Beomgyu's scents that wafted in the air, which were a telltale sign of what the two of you had been up to. His eyes zeroed in on the glaringly obvious marks adorning your bodies, and it didn't take long for all hell to break loose.

The four of you, engulfed in a mix of panic and anxiety, made your way back to your house, with Yeonjun demanding answers (mostly from his brother) and Yunjin attempting to soothe your distress. The pack house soon descended into chaos as the news of the marked bonds and the events at the club spread like wildfire, rousing everyone from their beds. Elders were urgently summoned to the house, while your parents anxiously paced, demanding answers from you and Beomgyu.

The two of you sat on the living room couch, with Beomgyu providing a more coherent account of the events (with many details omitted), while you remained in a trance, barely able to respond to anyone. Yunjin stayed by your side, holding your hand in a gesture of comfort, though it provided little solace amid the overwhelming situation.

"It appears that what has been done cannot be undone, especially considering the mating ceremony appears to have been finalized. I am afraid that the two of you are now bound for life. I'm sorry, but I believe there's little if anything, we can do about the situation." Elder Kwan finally concluded after what felt like an interminable wait for the Elders and your parents to reach a resolution.

"In a way, it might be comforting to know that the Moon Goddess is never wrong in her pairings. So, regardless of the circumstances, it appears that the two of you were destined to be mated. I understand you're both quite young, and it's not typical for wolves your age to be mated, but it was inevitable. Congratulations," Elder Lim added, and with that, everyone except your parents began to make their way out of the house.

Five days had passed since that life-altering night. Five days since you had last seen Beomgyu and five days since you had left your room.

"Miserable" hardly covered the depths of despair you found yourself in. Countless people had come by your house since the news of your newly mated status had spread, but you remained invisible to them all.

Initially, after the elders had delivered their verdict, your father had nearly lost control. He had launched accusations and screams at Beomgyu, accusing him of coercing you into this situation. However, you had sternly explained to your father that you were equally responsible for what had occurred, and that had managed to calm him down. Still, he struggled to approach you. However, you couldn't really blame him, as he had received no warning that you had even found your mate before you arrived home fully mated and marked. Your mother, on the other hand, was more sympathetic to your plight and made efforts to coax you out of your depressive state.

"Honey, you have to go see him. I know you're hurting inside, and staying cooped up in your room isn't helping anyone," she urged, fully aware of your inner turmoil. Your wolf had been howling for its mate since you separated from Beomgyu, and she was beyond furious with you for keeping her away from her mate as she was now unresponsive.

"I can't," you muttered, shaking your head.

She sighed and ran her fingers through your hair, attempting to provide some comfort. "Well, at least go see Taehyun. He's been here every day, and I can't keep turning him away. He's worried sick about you."

You were aware that Taehyun had been coming over daily to check on you, and while you felt terrible for ignoring him and the rest of your friends, you hadn't had the courage to face anyone during the past few days.

“C’mon, he’s right next door. He’s your best friend, maybe you’ll feel better getting out of your room and seeing him. It’ll get your mind off of everything, Y/N, it’s not healthy bottling all of this in.” 

Your mother's persuasive words finally prompted you to reach for the front door of your house. As you stepped outside, a wave of regret washed over you. Beomgyu's scent was the first thing that hit you, an intoxicating blend of cinnamon and wood that made your body hyperaware, almost weakening your knees. 

Beomgyu was about to get into his car when he spotted you emerging from your house. Five days had felt like an eternity for his wolf, and just the sight of you had him jumping with excitement. An awkward silence settled as the two of you locked eyes, and your gaze was drawn to the very visible mark on his neck, an immediate reminder.

"Y/N..." Beomgyu began, but the words seemed to escape him, and he didn't know how to continue.

Your wolf, who had been avoiding you and resisting your attempts to connect, suddenly sensed Beomgyu's presence and started to stir, eager for you to reach out to him and reconnect her to his wolf.

"Hey, Beomgyu," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the tension between you and Beomgyu.

"I'm sorry," you both blurted out simultaneously, heightening the awkwardness. Beomgyu decided to bridge the gap between you by moving closer.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Beomgyu's voice held a sincere tone, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

You shake your head, knowing fully that none of this was his fault alone. “No, don’t be sorry, we both did this to us. If anything, I’m sorry for shutting you out, I just needed some time. I’m sure your wolf was losing his mind.” 

He nodded and offered a small smile. "I get it. Everything happened so fast. I don't blame you for needing some time away to process everything. Are you okay?"

This time, it was your turn to nod. "I guess. It's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you're my mate. But, like Elder Lim said, it was bound to happen anyway, so there’s no point in resisting it."

"I'm really sorry about Yeonjun," Beomgyu said, feeling a twinge, knowing his mate previously held deep feelings for his brother and hoped to be mated to him. "I know I probably wasn't the Choi brother you were hoping for, but I understand how much you liked him. You'll need time to get over that."

Seeing Beomgyu in such a mellowed-out state was odd. Since you were young, Beomgyu had been known as the mischievous pup of the pack. Most wolves typically outgrew that role, but he seemed to carry it with him even to this day, which was one of the reasons you had difficulty seeing him as mate material. To witness this more restrained side of him was almost unfamiliar.

"Yeah, thanks. I mean, seeing Yeonjun with Yunjin and then immediately getting with you definitely forced me to move on quick," you acknowledged. Still, a lingering question had been eating at you and had contributed to your recent depressive episode.

"Do you feel it?" you asked Beomgyu, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Feel what?" He was clearly puzzled.

"The connection. We've been told our whole lives that when we meet our mate and become mated, we'll experience this indescribable link that makes us feel complete. I don't know if knowing you my entire life has dulled that rush of feelings that most mates have. While I definitely feel my wolf yearning to be with you constantly, aside from that, I don't really feel anything. I'm sorry for being so upfront, but I need to know if I'm the only one feeling this way, and if it's my issue, or if you're going through the same thing?" Your candidness left Beomgyu quiet for a moment, and you instantly regretted it. Your wolf chastised you, and now you were panicking, worrying that you had been too blunt and might have hurt his feelings.

You’ve made him mad and now he’s not going to want us anymore. After five torturous days of not being able to be with him, the second we’re reunited, you’ve fucked it all up. 

Before you could react and apologize to rectify the situation, Beomgyu spoke up and you felt your heart drop. "I don't feel it either."

His admission cut deep, and you felt a pang of hurt. Even though you had admitted that you didn't feel a strong connection with him, it still stung to know that your mate, to whom you were now permanently bound, didn't desire you in the same way that most mates did. You wondered if the elders were wrong, and perhaps this union wasn't truly meant to be.

"Fuck," you muttered, letting out a deep sigh. You were at a loss for what to do now and wanted to crawl back into your bed.

"But I don't think that necessarily means we're doomed," Beomgyu continued. "I believe in what the elders said, and I don't think being mated to you was a mistake. My wolf was driving me insane because we were apart," he admitted, and you nodded in agreement. "While we personally might not feel it yet, I think it's a good sign that at least our wolves are sensing the connection. We probably need some time, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes for us to make this work."

His words instantly provided you with a sense of comfort. Knowing that he was taking the situation seriously and was willing to put in the effort gave you hope. But it was still a bit disheartening to realize that you had to work on developing the connection with him that other mates seemed to naturally have. 

Why couldn't things be easier for you like you were raised to believe they would be?

A month had passed, and you and Beomgyu had more or less fully accepted your situation. The pack had moved on from their initial curiosity and nosy questions, finding other topics to focus on. Gossips about your status and unconventional mating circumstances had faded away, allowing you a bit more peace.

Most days, you found yourself in the company of Beomgyu, attempting to forge some kind of bond. While the effort felt forced at times, you were determined to create a connection, if only to alleviate the persistent fear that you might never truly connect with him. Despite spending time together, it seemed that the two of you had yet to break through anything beyond the surface level.

“Take it, take it like the slut you are.” 

In truth, any attempts to cultivate a deeper, more complex relationship between you and Beomgyu, that extended beyond being family friends, often got derailed by your strong physical bond, or rather, just horniness (seriously you felt like a teenager again with the constant need to take each other’s clothes off). The irresistible need to be intimate often overshadowed the potential for emotional depth, leaving your efforts to form a more meaningful connection feeling like a constant struggle against the physical desires that seemed to take precedence. In other words, it was now really fucking getting on both of your nerves. 

Like, of course, you were aware and taught that mated wolves, especially newly mated ones, carried a need to be around one another and to breed as it was instinctual for your wolves to create offspring, you never would have guessed it’d come down to the constant need of being filled by him 24/7. 

“Shit!” You had been screaming in pleasure for a couple of hours by now and it seemed like there was no indication that you nor Beomgyu were ready to be stopping anytime soon. Stamina like this seemed to also be a gift that came with your newly mated status.

“Beomgyu please, please, please!” You chanted as you clawed at the sheets. 

Your once perfectly made face was now absolutely soiled as remnants of mascara, sweat, spit, cum, and tears were littered all across. Honestly, you couldn’t have been more grateful that your parents were away on an important trip outside of town with Beomgyu’s parents. There was no doubt in your mind that your poor mother (his too) would drop dead the second she got wind of how you had been spending the last few days.

“Keep fucking you yet you stay tight as a virgin like you were perfectly made for me and only me,” Beomgyu growled out as his hips snapped harder from behind you while his grip tightened. There were no doubt bruises in the shape of his fingers were forming around your waist.

You knew you were closing in on your third orgasm of the night as you felt the splintering sensation you were very well aware of reaching its boiling point. And as if he knew, a pinch to your clit was all it took for you to be crumbling down. Lightheadedness instantly came as everything around you seemed to turn white and you knew your body went limp, but that of course was no deterrent for Beomgyu as he continued to pound himself into you before finally reaching his peak. 

Pulsing inside of you, you felt the familiar ache of your walls expanding as Beomgyu came. His dick continued to swell past its normal size as ropes of his cum continued to paint your walls. Your soft whines and his deep pants were now all that filled the room.

“Fuck, sorry I don’t think it’s going down anytime soon, hold on.” Beomgyu adjusts you to where the two of you can comfortably lay on your sides whilst waiting for his knot to go down.

With how much he came (so much that even with the knot, his semen escaped down your thighs) and with how tightly he was plugging you, there was no doubt in mind that your wolves were making it their mission to have you bred as soon as possible.  

Suddenly bangs rained down Beomgyu’s door. Instantly you jolted at the unexpected intrusion which had you clenching around Beomgyu’s still rock-hard cock pulling a groan out of him. “Are you two fucking done now? Jesus Christ other people live here selfish bastards!” 

Clearly too occupied by your pleasures, the two of you must have not heard anyone else coming into the house. 

“Fuck off Soobin!” Beomgyu yells in response to his older brother as your face heats up at the realization that he’d probably heard everything.

“You think he heard everything?” You try to turn your head towards Beomgyu as you ask, but quickly realize the position the two of you were in wouldn’t allow you to face him.

His knot still felt like it wouldn’t be going down anytime soon which meant the two of you were stuck in a spooning position for a bit. 

"Probably, but I don't care. It's Soobin; I've caught him with Chaewon more times than I'd have wanted to, so he's in no position to bitch." His voice is muffled as he nuzzles his face deeper into your hair and neck.

After what seemed like an eternity, likely the longest it's ever taken for his knot to go down, the two of you finally managed to detach and clean yourselves up a bit before bracing yourselves and leaving the room.

Of course, the second your feet hit the bottom of the stairs, your embarrassment tripled as you realized it wasn’t just Soobin present in the house.

“Y/N!” Yunjin's excited voice greets you as she runs up to give you a hug.

You hadn't seen her since the night at the club, and while you hadn’t intentionally avoided her, the part of you that wasn’t quite ready to face her yet lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t her fault for what had transpired; she had no inkling of your feelings for Yeonjun (which she still didn’t know) and had no say in choosing her mate, just like you. However, witnessing her with Yeonjun only solidified your own emotional hurt. 

Over the course of the month, you learned from Taehyun that she and Yeonjun had decided to get together, though taking it slow and not rushing into mating. But nevertheless, it seemed that they (along with everyone in the pack) were well aware that they were indeed true mates, confirmed by the elders just as you and Beomgyu had been.

“Hey, Yunjin how’s it been?” You reciprocated the hug nevertheless though as she was still your friend, but over her shoulder you got a glimpse of Yeonjun and the sadness in your heart that you’d been working hard to mend seemed to ached a little.

He looked good. Great even, which you decided to attribute to finding his mate. There was almost a bright glow around him and he just looked so happy. They hadn’t even been mated yet and Yunjin was already making him light up like that.

She responded to you, but your mind was elsewhere as you looked at Beomgyu, who was bickering with Soobin about something. He didn’t look any different. Where was his glow? Frowning at the realization that yet again there was another thing that you and Beomgyu’s relationship lacked in comparison to others.

Chaewon must have noticed how you had suddenly gotten upset as she interjected herself between you and Yunjin cutting the other girl off. “Hey, so sorry Yunjin, but I totally forgot I have to ask Y/N about something.” And she took your arm and dragged you away to the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Chaewon enveloped you in a hug, offering comfort. “You okay?”

You sighed deeply, sinking into her embrace. “I think something's wrong with me. Something’s not right with me and Beomgyu.”

This admission was the first time you vocalized your concerns. For a month, you’d kept it hidden, not disclosing it to anyone, not even Taehyun or your parents. It was a weight you carried, feeling like a failure—a broken wolf.

Chaewon pulled away slightly, a mix of concern and confusion on her face. “What do you mean? I thought things were going okay. I mean, we all heard you two upstairs.”

You shut your eyes tightly, fighting back tears, shaking your head with a sense of dejection. You were beyond feeling embarrassed at what they probably heard. “That's the issue. It’s purely physical between us. Every time we’re together, it’s just about that, but beyond fucking, there’s nothing. He’s still just the Beomgyu I grew up next door to, not my mate, not the love of my life.”

Her gaze softened, understanding the gravity of your words. Mates sharing a deep connection was foundational, and your experience seemed to deviate from that norm. No wolf was ever taught that there was a possibility of what you and Beomgyu currently had. 

“Oh sweetie,” Chaewon dragged you into a tight hug again. “Have you talked to Beomgyu about this?”

You affirmed with a nod, "Yes, we're both aware that something isn't right, and we're genuinely making an effort. We spend time together almost every day, trying to bridge the gap, but it's been a month and we haven't felt any change."

The two of you stayed in a comforting silence, wrapped in each other's arms.

"Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry," Chaewon's words carried genuine empathy. "I'm sorry about Yeonjun too. I know how much you liked him. We all did, and it wasn’t in a childish crush way. We all saw your feelings were real. I'm truly sorry for everything that has happened in the past month."

You've felt like all you've done for the past month was cry, and you despised it. Yet, as Chaewon spoke, tears still found their way down your cheeks. While you appreciated everyone's sympathy, a part of you wished those words could make a difference.

"Thank you, really. I just feel terrible that Yunjin’s kept in the dark about everything. I'm not deliberately avoiding her or holding any anger toward her. It's just that I need some time. Seeing her with him hurts a lot and it adds to the strain I feel about everything with Beomgyu. It's nobody's fault." You sniffled, pulling back slightly to wipe away your tears. Yeonjun was never yours to begin with, yet why did his presence still hold such a grip on you, even after finding your mate?

“Have you talked to anyone else about this?” Chaewon inquired, and you shook your head in response.

“I think it’ll really help to talk to Taehyun. He always knows how to make you feel better,” she suggested, her understanding evident. Taehyun was your best friend, and at this point, you felt unable to keep everything bottled up. You longed for the comfort only your best friend could offer.

With a nod at her suggestion, you decided, “You’re right, I think I’m gonna go there right now.”

With that, you attempted to compose yourself, ensuring you didn’t look like you'd been crying, and together, you both headed back out to rejoin the group.

"Hey guys, I think I’m going to head back. I need to do something," you announced to the group, who seemed engrossed in watching something on TV.

“Are you sure? We just put something on. We were thinking of maybe a movie night?” Yeonjun’s voice almost tempted you to stay, but you resolutely shook your head.

“I’m sorry, guys, maybe next time?” You hoped this would appease them as you exchanged another hug with Yunjin who genuinely seemed disappointed that you had to leave so soon before bidding them goodbye.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Beomgyu offered, rising from the couch, and together, you both began heading towards the front door.

“Are you okay?” His voice was filled with concern as you started putting your shoes on, he could tell that you'd been crying.

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Taehyun about something,” you responded. 

He noded, but before you could turn the handle, he reached out, taking your hand. As you turned to face him, he gently cupped your face in his hands and gave you a small kiss.

“Just call me if you need anything, okay? I don’t want to pry or anything, but I can feel how heavy your heart is,” he said softly. Your eyes widened slightly at the confession, but you decided against saying anything and just gave him a single nod before opening the door.

Chaewon's advice definitely seemed to help, as confiding in Taehyun turned out to be exactly what you needed. He attentively absorbed every detail as you poured your heart out to him. Initially, he was upset that you hadn't sought his support earlier, leaving you to face everything alone. Yet, he swiftly took it upon himself to lift your spirits. The next day, he suggested a trip downtown, which was only just outside of your pack’s territory. This seemed to work wonders, as genuine laughter bubbled up from within you—something that had been rare lately. Sharing an ice cream with Taehyun, you both joyfully wandered around, enjoying each other's company.

The weather was scorching hot, and even in your minimal attire of a thin tube top and shorts, sweat was trickling down your neck. It was the first time you hadn't felt self-conscious about displaying your mark, and you were glad you'd decided to change into what you were wearing now instead of the thicker and longer shirt that would have covered it.

"Hey, let's head over there. Didn't you mention you still needed to get something for Chaewon’s birthday?" you suggested, tossing out your empty ice cream cups before leading Taehyun towards a small shop. However, as you reached for the door, it swung open abruptly, knocking you down with force.

"Fuck," you groaned as pain shot through your bottom from landing on it. Taehyun rushed over to help you up, but before he could reach you, a hand extended in front of you. Looking up, you met the gaze of a good-looking boy about your age. You decided to take his hand, allowing him to assist you to your feet.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize someone was behind the door. Are you alright?" His voice was filled with genuine concern, but his unfamiliar scent put your wolf on edge.

As you're about to respond, Taehyun interrupted, examining you to ensure you were not seriously hurt. "You good?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him. Turning back to the stranger, you offered a smile. "You're good, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known someone was behind the door." Your smile aimed to reassure him.

"I still feel terrible. Can I do something to make it up to you?" His offer seemed polite, but something about his demeanor raised your guard, and you quickly declined with a shake of your head.

“No, I’m fine, seriously. Don’t worry about it!” You forced another smile, eager to leave the situation and enter the store.

“Can I at least get your name? I’m Wonbin. I’m new around town, so maybe I’ll see you again?” His insistence was making you more uncomfortable, and your wolf was now screaming at you to distance yourself from this stranger.

Taehyun from the side could see the lingering looks that Wonbin was giving you that was obviously making you increasingly uncomfortable so he stepped in, creating space between you and Wonbin. “Back off, man. Can’t you see she’s already claimed?” He pointed to your neck, where your mark was visibly displayed. 

Though Wonbin's eyebrows twitched at Taehyun’s assertive comment, he quickly returned to a friendly demeanor. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were her mate.”

“We’re just friends, but her mate wouldn’t be pleased to know you were hitting on her like that.” Taehyun's tone lacked warmth, and although you and Beomgyu were dealing with your issues, Taehyun was right—Beomgyu definitely wouldn’t appreciate someone else showing interest in you.

Despite Taehyun's words, Wonbin remained unaffected, shamelessly continuing to look you over, making you regret your choice of clothing. His previously friendly smile now twisted into more of a smirk, worsening your anxiety. It was clear that even knowing you were already claimed didn't deter his interest in you.

 “Well, just so you know, If I were her mate, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. You never know what dangers are lurking around, waiting for the right chance.” Wonbin gave you one last look before walking away, leaving you with a chill running down your back.

You hadn’t felt this type of fear in a while and one thing was for sure— there was nothing friendly about him, and you sensed that you’d now been singled out as a target.

The moment you returned from your trip to town with Taehyun, an urgency drove you straight to Beomgyu's doorstep. Your body acted before your mind, taking you to his house and knocking before you even registered your actions. Your wolf, still reeling from the unsettling encounter with the stranger, sought comfort and solace from Beomgyu's wolf.

"Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over–" Beomgyu's greeting faltered as he observed your distressed state. His concern was evident as he furrowed his brows. "What’s wrong? Did something happen?"

Without uttering a word, you sought refuge in his embrace, initiating a deep hug that immediately brought a sense of relief. The whole experience had left you deeply unsettled. In the past, such attention from a stranger might have been flattering or easily dismissed. However, everything had changed since discovering your mate. The incident made you feel queasy, and the only solace you sought was from your mate's comforting presence.

Your voice muffled against his chest as you responded, "There was a wolf."

Beomgyu's body tensed in response. "What? Who was it? What did they do? You’re not hurt, are you?" He gently pulled away from the hug to check for any signs of injury.

“No, he didn’t hurt me, but I've never felt this uncomfortable before. He claimed to be new in town so I didn’t recognize his scent, but beyond that he just seemed off. Even with Taehyun there, I felt unsafe. It’s like something was off, and it’s making my wolf extremely uneasy. I don’t know if it’s because I’m mated to you now that any unfamiliar wolves set her on edge, but it wasn’t a good feeling,” you explained truthfully. You knew Beomgyu would eventually pry it out of you or find out from Taehyun so hiding it would serve no purpose.

As Beomgyu's body emanated more heat, you sensed a surge of anger brewing within him. It was as if your own emotions were mirroring his, an unfamiliar sensation.

“Fucking hell, I should’ve been there with you,” Beomgyu's wolf angrily chastised him, irritated at not being there to protect you.

Shaking your head, you replied, “He didn’t actually do anything. Taehyun made sure of it, and I don’t think he had violent intentions, but he made me extremely uneasy.”

“Who was it? He should've known you're already mine, your mark’s on full display and there’s no way he couldn’t smell me all over you. Fucking douche,” Beomgyu's readiness to confront the situation was palpable, but you swiftly placed your hand on his chest, urging him to stop.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here in your arms right now, and I already feel better. All I need is you to be here with me,” you assured him. 

The unease had dissolved from within you, and you had a feeling it vanished the moment you were enveloped in his embrace. Your wolf found solace in knowing that safety lay where your other half resided. For the past month, you hadn't entirely found relief in Beomgyu despite knowing he was your mate. However, in this time of distress, you felt a sense of safety in him.

“Are you sure?” Beomgyu was still upset that an unknown wolf had made you so uncomfortable, but your reassuring gaze calmed him.

“I promise. All I want is you right now,” you tenderly said, leaning in to connect your lips before he could respond.

You could still feel his anger but as he slowly moved his lips against yours, reciprocating your action, it seemed to be overtaken by a stronger emotion that indicated that he wanted you just as much as you did. 

Quickly, the two of you wasted no time going up to his room and the second his door slammed, you were stripping out of your clothes. 

“Shit, baby everytime I see you I can’t believe how fucking perfect you are,” he cupped one of your breasts in his hands pinching at your bud releasing a moan out of you. 

“Says you.” You responded before reconnecting your lips together. 

As the two of you fought for dominance with your tongues clashing against each other, you helped him undress. Hands quickly reached down to his pants and with one swift motion you push his pants along with his undwear down while he swiftly took his shirt off. Lips attached again and your hand reached down to touch his hardened cock. Swiping your thumb against his head and spreading his pre-cum around the shaft as you wrapped your hand around his member, before giving it a good jerk. He hissed.

“Fuck, your hands are so soft.” As your hands tugged at his dick at a faster pace his lips attatched to your neck kissing over the mark that he was responsible for. It was a spot that was much more sensitive than anywhere else and you shuddered.

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered as he lapped over and over at your mark, making you pant. You knew he was making an emphasis on covering you with his scent due to what happened today. 

With your whine you were pushed back into his bed and Beomgyu’s hands grabbed ahold of your thighs keeping them open. You knew you were incredibly wet and the sight of Beomgyu before you had you growing even more inceasingly so. He started slow on your thighs, kissing the insides of them, but it wasn’t enough.

“Beomgyu, please.” You begged wanting more than what he was teasing. 

“Use your words princess, what do you need?” You knew he was dragging this on as he loved seeing you beg. 

“Please, I need your mouth,” you begged again. At this point, you knew you had to be dripping and you were growing increasingly frustrated. He was kissing and lapping at everywhere but where you needed him most.

His hot breath ghosted over your core and you shuddered. “I think you’re going to need to be more specific than that.” He was toying with you and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please, I need your mouth on my clit,” you finally gave in and you could see him smirk in satisfaction before diving in. 

Like a starved man, Beomgyu doesn’t hold back as he devoured your pussy. Your back arched as all sound from you seems to have been dissipated due to the overwhelming pleasure you were instantaneously given. His tongue gracefully lapped at your slit, parting your lips as his nose buried itself into your clit. 

“Fuck,” is all you could manage as your hands reached for his hair, pushing him deeper into your core.

As he continued to make out with your pussy, his finger made its way inside of you and slowly started puming in and out. The sounds you were making were music to his ears, encouraging him to continue adding another finger and slowly start increasing the speed of which his fingers were fucking you. His lips were now wrapped around your clit and you knew you were so close to reaching your peak. 

“I’m so close,” you mewled out as you felt the familiar feeling rippling within you. And before you knew it the hot blinding light exploded as you loudly moaned his name. 

You could see even in the dim light Beomgyu’s lower face glistening, covered in your release as he gave you a smile. Climbing up the bed he hovered over you and leaned in for a kiss and despite just having an orgasm, your body was screaming for another as your tongues clashed with each other. His hardened dick was felt against your stomach before he reached down to line himself with your drenched pussy. 

He rubbed himself against your slit, covering his length in your juices before fully inserting himself in you. 

“Fuck,” he hissed and without giving you a second to adjust, he pummeled himself in and out of you. 

You were sensitive from your previous orgasm, but you couldn’t care less when the pleasure you were experiencing was the only important thing in your mind. His thick cock was bruising your cervix as he wasn’t holding back, using the strength of his wolf to his advantage. 

“Shit, Beomgyu! You’re so deep right now,” you wailed out as you held tight to his shoulders. His headboard was banging into his walls as Beomgyu moved at an unstoppable pace. 

“Yeah, feel me here?” He gave you an almost smug look before pressing a hand down on your stomach, right where his cock was slightly bulging out from. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You screamed out, raking your fingernail deep into his back. 

He grabbed one of your legs and pulled it up, hooking it on his shoulders and as if it was possible, you felt him even deeper within you. Tears were forming in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling and with the change of position, he seemed to be thrusting even harder and faster in you. 

“My pretty cock hungry mate. No one can fuck you like I can, can they?” You shook your head.

“No, only you!” You cried out. You could feel yourself once again getting close to reaching that peak.

“Fuck, you feel so good, should just breed you full of my pups.” Beomgyu panted out as one of his hands made its way around your neck. “Maybe then all these other wolves will know you’re mine and mine alone.”

“Please, Beomgyu! Please breed me!” The fingers wrapped around your throat squeezed just the right amount and you knew you had just reached your peak. As if someone had cut out all noise, a ringing in your ears was all you could hear while your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you let out a sob. 

Beomgyu panted above you as he animalisticly snapped his hips into yours and before you knew it, you felt warm spurts of his cum coating your insides as the familiar swell of his cock started to expand your walls. “Fuck!”

His body collapsed on top of yours, sweat mixing with one another's as the two of you attempted to catch your breath. 

"You're fucking incredible," Beomgyu panted out before planting a kiss on your forehead.

His compliment made your face hot, and for the first time in your relationship, warmth spread through your heart. The flutter of butterflies in your stomach made you break into a smile, it was something you could easily get used to.

"Y/N, you gotta wake up right now," your eyes fluttered open at the your mom’s voice. It couldn’t possibly be morning already.

"What’s happening?" You asked, still half-asleep and trying to process.

"It's serious. Y/N, hurry up and get dressed," the urgency in your mom's tone jolted you awake; you could sense something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” You tore the covers off, scrambling out of bed. Though still drowsy, you were more alert, grasping the urgency once you caught a better look at your mom's furrowed brows and the scent of her almost panicked state.

You hastily threw on whatever clothes were within reach, disregarding your appearance, as you hurriedly followed your mom. She hadn’t explained the urgency behind dragging you out of bed in what still appeared to be the dead of night, judging by the darkness outside your windows.

“Come on, everyone’s at the pack house.” Her statement heightened your worry.

Upon entering the grand house, your senses were immediately assaulted by a wave of intense emotions. It seemed every significant pack member had gathered, their expressions lacking the usual hope. Your eyes sought out Beomgyu, and without hearing a word, you sensed his seething anger. It felt as though the heat of his fury was emanating through your body, causing your wolf to whimper in concern, fearful of what might have happened. 

“Apologies for summoning you in the middle of the night, but an urgent matter has arisen that allows us no time,” the Alpha addressed you, attempting to maintain his customary warmth. Yet, even he, never known for a quick temper, struggled to contain his anger.

“What’s happening?” Confusion and concern intensified within you.

“Did you happen to come into contact with a wolf not familiar to our pack recently?” Your body tensed, a sinking feeling dawning upon you.

You nodded, prompting a heavy sigh from your father and a deeper furrow of anger in Beomgyu’s brows. You could feel he was inches away from snapping. 

“He's the son of the Alpha from the pack we've been having border issues with. As you know, their aggressive advances toward our territory have caused us much trouble. Tonight, their Alpha visited me. The wolf you met has claimed you as his mate and is challenging Beomgyu for you.” Your wolf, previously attempting to stave off full panic, was now in a state of distress at the Alpha’s revelation.

Scanning the room, you sought confirmation from the others, hoping the Alpha's words were a joke, but the serious expressions mirrored the gravity of the situation. Even Yeonjun and Soobin, typically lighthearted, wore stern expressions that also seemed to showcase anger, affirming the truth in the Alpha's words.

“That bastard is trying to rip you away from me, daring to claim you as his true mate despite knowing he’s absolutely irrelevant to you,” Beomgyu's rage surged, an overwhelming force that felt utterly foreign and shocking. It was so intense, you were sure you could almost feel your body resonating with his, flames of anger igniting within.

“I’m going to fucking kill him. How dare he even think he has a chance with a wolf already claimed. He's just sealed his own fucking fate.” Fiery fury blazed in his eyes, each word seething with intense emotion.

His father attempted to calm him, reaching out, but Beomgyu shrugged off the gesture. “Son, calm down. We need to approach this wisely.”

But Elder Kwon's voice cut in before Beomgyu could respond. “The young wolf's anger is justified. Their claim on Y/N not only threatens him but our entire pack. If they can take Y/N from us, it’s an affront to our pack's strength and unity.” 

“How is his claim even valid? He probably just saw Y/N and felt attracted. There is no way there's any substance to what he’s saying. If anything, they’re probably using this as a pretext to declare their official threats to us, especially after learning that Y/N is from our pack,” Yeonjun's voice sliced through the tension.

The foreign pack’s aggressive moves had put everyone on guard. Your pack hadn't faced conflict or been attacked for decades, so the mere possibility made you feel queasy, especially since you were now at the center of it.

“She’s our Beta’s only child and the mate of one of our Alpha’s sons. She’s an integral part of our pack. This is practically a declaration of war,” Soobin's words resonated with the weight of truth. The fear gripping you was entirely justified.

“Is there a chance they could take me?” The question trembled in your voice, your anxiety reaching its peak. The thought of being taken away from everything you knew and loved was terrifying.

Instantly, Beomgyu shook his head, “No.”

The looming threat of losing you, his true mate, to an undeserving wolf ignited a tempest of emotions within Beomgyu's wolf. Despite the initial hurdles that shadowed your relationship, the irrefutable truth stood firm—you both were irrevocably bound as mates and just the thought of being torn away from you sent tremors of despair through his every fiber. Even if the path towards love was veiled in uncertainty and required time to blossom, Beomgyu was resolute in dedicating himself wholeheartedly to nurturing that sacred connection. He grasped the significance of the invisible yet unbreakable tether that bound you both, a connection he was willing to fight for, no matter the cost.

Instances of mates being torn apart from their true mates only heightened the gravity of the situation. You knew, with absolute certainty, that you'd rather face death than endure that fate. Love or not, Beomgyu was still your familiar comfort, far more meaningful to you than Wonbin could ever be. 

In a moment that felt like an eternity, for the first time, your heart didn't ache for Yeonjun as it usually did. Instead, it was a yearning so profound, so raw, that it cut through your soul. It wasn't Yeonjun’s face, which you had been for all your life so used to searching for; it was Beomgyu's. The tug of longing, the deep yearning for him, was an unfamiliar yet undeniable ache in your chest. For the first time in your existence, it wasn't the past or the ghost of an unattainable love that haunted you, but the urgent, desperate need for Beomgyu's reassuring embrace. 

The undeniable truth etched itself into your very being, Choi Beomgyu was your true mate.

The tension in town escalated following the indirect declaration of war against your pack. Border patrols were heightened to unprecedented levels, and Taehyun's father took extra precautions, stationing wolves around your house each night for added protection. However, their presence seemed somewhat redundant, as Beomgyu hadn't left your side since the threat emerged. Initially, it was a bit awkward for both your father and Beomgyu to essentially cohabit, but your parents understood the necessity for you both to be together, especially given the looming danger. They found solace in knowing that Beomgyu would go to any length to safeguard you, choosing that assurance over the fear of losing you indefinitely. However, this didn't mean there weren't moments of awkwardness amidst this tense situation, especially as you and Beomgyu had a hard time resisting each other. 

The concerns about the struggles you and Beomgyu faced in establishing a solid connection seemed trivial now that the undeniable bond had finally revealed itself. It was an unfamiliar sensation, trying to adapt to the newfound ability to sense almost every emotion and vibration of his wolf. It was as though the two of you operated as a singular entity, connected on a level that transcended the ordinary. Love, however, didn't feel like the right term to define what you shared with him at that moment. Though you were sure you were going to get there one day. 

"So, any plans to move in together?" Taehyun's casual inquiry hung in the air as you and Beomgyu nestled together on the couch. From his spot on the opposite sectional, Taehyun hinted at the subtly crowded atmosphere, though the vast expanse of your home made the idea of it being cramped somewhat absurd.

Across from you, Yunjin and Yeonjun were absorbed in their own world yet half-attentive, mirroring your cozy scene. A few months ago, witnessing such a scene would have been torturous and utterly heartbreaking, but as if by some enchantment, the love you once held for the older boy seemed almost erased, leaving you indifferent to their current affectionate bond. Your wolf, usually alert and sensitive to such moments, was preoccupied with Beomgyu's wolf, showing little interest in Yunjin and Yeonjun. 

Surprisingly, you found yourself content that Yeonjun's mate was someone you genuinely approved of. Yunjin had seamlessly integrated into the pack, not solely as Yeonjun's unconfirmed mate but also because she was genuinely cherished by everyone. Any previous hesitance toward her had vanished, allowing you to interact comfortably like you had previously done with her without any lingering heartache. She was back to being a cherished friend of yours. Now, you could say with no hesitation that the only person occupying that part of your heart was Beomgyu.

Kai had also joined in tonight since his girlfriend was away, and Chaewon was also present but without Soobin as he was on border patrol. The gathering at your house started as a game night but quickly turned into a casual chat where discussions veered towards anything and everything. Though, the topic of Wonbin and his pack remained untouched throughout the evening. It wasn't just to avoid irritating Beomgyu; it was a sensitive matter that threatened the pack's stability. With the pack being the core of their lives, everyone was cautious not to stir up a topic that could bring tension. Moreover, you were Wonbin’s primary target, a valued member of the pack, making it an uncomfortably sensitive subject.

“I mean, we've definitely thought about it, and our parents are certainly more enthusiastic about it than us. But I don't think we're quite ready to take such a big step in our relationship just yet. Maybe soon, but not at this moment.” While you were growing more comfortable with everything, neither of you felt an urgent need to rush your relationship. If it were up to your wolves, though, you'd probably already be living together and starting a family.

“Your poor dad, Y/N. Having to witness his only child being taken away by Beomgyu of all people...” Kai's sympathy for your dad was evident, and everyone seemed to nod in agreement. It was no secret that Beomgyu had always had the reputation of being a bit of a naughty boy since he was young and wouldn’t be the first pick of mate for any parent. Even Beomgyu seemed to be aware and acknowledging his reputation as he nodded along.

“No, seriously, your parents are much stronger than me. You two have no self-control around each other. The number of times I’ve heard or even walked in on you getting your back blown—” Chaewon's candidness left you shrieking in embarrassment. Her lack of filter was well-known, but it was still mortifying. Beomgyu, on the other hand, found it more amusing than shameful, chuckling along with the rest of the group at your reaction.

“Ah ah, harder Beomgyu harder!” Taehyun joined in on furthering you humiliation and you were burning up with embarrassment.

"Oh my fucking God, cut it out!" You practically screamed, setting off an even more exaggerated response from the group, clearly relishing your reaction. "You're all absolutely horrible!”

"Hey babe, it's alright, they're just joking and I mean they’re not wrong," Beomgyu chimed in, unintentionally worsening the situation. The feeling of betrayal stung, and you gasped, pulling yourself away from his comforting embrace. Marching across the room, you headed straight for where Huening Kai was seated, letting out an audible hmph.

"Wait, no, come back! Fuck, I'm sorry!" Beomgyu rushed to apologize, attempting to coax you back into his arms, but you were resolute, settled in your place beside Huening Kai.

"Whu psh," Yunjin mimicked the sound of a whip cracking. "Beomgyu, you're so whipped! You should see your face right now, like a puppy who just lost its favorite toy."

Beomgyu shrugged dismissively at her comment, though he knew it held a grain of truth. "Well, I don't think you're in a position to judge, considering you're practically glued to my brother like a koala."

Just as their banter threatened to escalate, Yeonjun intervened, offering reassurance to soothe the embarrassment festering within you.

"Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s totally fine. I mean, that’s expected of mates, especially newly mated ones. Plus, you guys are young, so it's no surprise the hormones are raging," Yeonjun smiled warmly, trying to ease the tension. But even with his attempts, you remained visibly flustered, arms tightly crossed in a self-defensive gesture.

“Yeah, Yeonjun’s right, they're just as bad as you guys, and they haven’t even claimed each other yet!” Taehyun gestured towards the other couple in the room, diverting attention to them.

“Yup, you two are equally disgusting. I mean, where’s the decorum? Shit, the kitchen is literally where people cook!” Yunjin's embarrassed outburst broke the tension, finally eliciting a chuckle from you amidst the teasing.

Riiing Riing

Amidst the loud laughter, the unmistakable sound of a phone ringing caught everyone’s attention.

“Hello?” Yeonjun answered, but his previously lighthearted expression turned dark as a scowl appeared on his face. “Okay, we’ll be right there.”

An uneasy hush fell over everyone as they looked to Yeonjun, waiting for an explanation.

“Dad just called. There’s something happening at the border, and they need backup,” Yeonjun announced, his words instantly casting a shadow of concern over the room. Instantly, a frown etched across your face, the mirth from moments ago evaporating in an instant.

There hadn’t been any recent issues, but the news of trouble at the border stirred an unsettling feeling in your heart, shared by everyone in the room. It could be nothing more than a rogue stray, but the possibility that it might involve Wonbin's pack left a heavy weight in your chest. You could sense Beomgyu's heartbeat quickening, mirroring your own unease.

“I’ll go with you,” Taehyun volunteered immediately with no surprise as this was exactly what he had been training all summer long with his dad for.

Before Beomgyu could voice his offer, a surge of dread enveloped you, prompting an immediate response. You shook your head in refusal. 

“I’ll go too.” The words escaped your mate's lips, causing your heart to plummet. Meeting Beomgyu's gaze, you silently begged him to remain by  your side.

“It’s okay, it’s probably nothing. We’ll be back by tonight, I promise.” Beomgyu assured you, though his wolf howled within him at the thought of being away from you. He understood that if this situation extended beyond a rogue threat, his absence would be his way of ensuring your safety.

“I’m going with you guys too,” Chaewon chimed in and you quickly whipped your head to face her.

“Okay, then I’m going too,” you insisted firmly, but instantly you saw everyone shaking their heads at you. Everyone understood the potential risk if you were near the border.

“No, you're not,” Beomgyu countered firmly, his concern evident in his furrowed brows. His tone left no room for negotiation.

“Yeah, Y/N, he’s right. It’s probably nothing, but it’s better not to risk anything,” Huening Kai added, his expression showing traces of unease.

But they needed to understand that staying within the confines of your home didn't offer solace while everyone you cherished, including your mate, ventured out, putting themselves at risk for your safety.

“Seriously, Y/N, Dad didn’t sound too concerned, so it’s probably nothing serious. Just stay here with Yunjin and Kai. We'll return soon,” Yeonjun offered a small smile, hoping to reassure you, but your expression remained tense.

You scanned the room, seeking reassurance, until your gaze locked with your mate's. Through that silent connection, his presence offered solace. “It's alright, I'll come back.”

With that, he held you tightly in his arms, and your wolf instinctively sought comfort from him, silently pleading for him to stay. The reality of your friends not allowing you to join them weighed down on you. So, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly let Beomgyu go, sharing a deep kiss before he departed. Your eyes followed him until he vanished behind the closing door, leaving a lingering unease within you.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” Yunjin offered a tight smile, trying to reassure you, though you sensed her own unease. You nodded, attempting to brush off the worry. Your wolf was probably being dramatic at the fact that she had to part with her mate. 

“How about we put on a movie or something to pass the time while we wait for them to get back?” Huening Kai's suggestion sounded like a good distraction, and you nodded, eager for anything to take your mind off the constant worrying about Beomgyu and the others.

“Okay, you guys can pick something. I’ll go make some popcorn then,” you decided, heading towards the kitchen pantry to grab popcorn and a few other snacks for Kai and Yunjin.

From the living room, you could faintly hear your friends discussing which movie to pick for the night as the popcorn started to pop in the microwave.

Beep Beep 

The microwave's alert signified that your popcorn was ready, but as you reached to open it, a surge of raw fear seized your body, sending shivers down your spine. Your wolf was all of a sudden howling at you to flee, a visceral warning that someone who shouldn't be there had somehow made their way inside your house.

"Kai? Yunjin?" Your voice trembled with audible panic, but your calls went unanswered. Their noisy chatter from earlier seemed to have dissolved into an eerie silence that gripped the air.

Then, without warning, an ominous white mist began to seep into the living room, thick and suffocating. The acrid smell stung your nostrils, and your eyes stung as tears welled up. Your wolf's urgency to escape pulsed through you, but a chilling sense of paralysis rooted you to the spot. Your body refused to respond, leaving you helpless as you collapsed, feeling every second in excruciatingly slow motion.

The thickening smoke enveloped you, obscuring your vision and suffocating your senses. Panic seized your chest, your heart pounding in sync with the rapid beeping of the microwave. Then everything went dark.

Your dry mouth was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The unfamiliar brown-walled room raised alarm bells in your head. Memories of what occurred before being knocked out rushed back, triggering a surge of panic as you surveyed your surroundings. You had no idea where you were.

Ignoring the ache in your bones, you threw off the covers and dashed towards the door. It was locked tight, the doorknob refusing to budge. The room, while not overly small, contained nothing except a bed. Above it, a window beckoned, and you hurriedly made your way there. Yanking back the curtains, your optimism crumbled at the sight of metal bars barricading any chance of freedom through the window.

“Fuck,” you cursed in realization of your entrapment. Where the fuck were you?

The room offered nothing that could be use to your situation, leaving you frustrated and eager to try the door again, hoping against hope for a miracle. As you approached, the doorknob began to jiggle, sending a rush of fear through you. It was an unsettling feeling, not knowing who might be on the other side. And unfortunately, your suspicions were confirmed as the door swung open to reveal the last person you ever wanted to see.

Wonbin strolled in, a smug grin adorning his face as he met your startled gaze. “Took you long enough to wake up. I asked them to go easy on the wolfsbane, but clearly, those fucking idiots didn't listen.”

Wolfsbane. It all clicked into place—how you'd been incapacitated so swiftly.

“Wonbin, where the fuck am I?” Your voice held an edge, reflecting the anger brewing within you at the precarious situation.

“What do you mean? You’re at our pack house. We rescued you,” Wonbin retorted with an overtone that seemed patronizing, further fueling your fury.

“Rescue me? From my pack, my home, my friends, and my mate?” Your tone sharpened as you mentioned Beomgyu, causing Wonbin's grin to vanish, replaced by a scowl.

“Don’t fucking talk about him. He’s not your mate. You’ve been brainwashed by your pack,” he spat, visibly agitated by your defense of Beomgyu.

“You're fucking insane! I don’t even know you! Beomgyu is my mate, not you stop being delusional. I want to go back to my pack!” Your voice rose in indignation. The audacity of Wonbin to make such baseless claims incensed you beyond measure.

“No,” Wonbin growled as he lunged at you, wrapping his hand around your neck tightly as he pushed you against the wall. “You belong with me so stop resisting it, I know you feel it too. It wasn’t fucking easy getting you here so stop being an ungrateful bitch and be thankful that we saved you.” 

The grip he had on your throat was tight and choking you as you felt your eyes water while your air was constricted. You clawed at his arm in hopes for him to release you. “Stop, please.”

As if he was in a trance, the angered glaze over his eyes snapped back to reality and once he realized what he was doing to you, Wonbin instantly let go, making you fall to the floor gasping for air.

“Oh shit, fuck. I’m sorry I didn’t mean that,” he leaned down to check if you were okay but you quickly took this chance to head butt him on his face and bolt out of the room without even sparing him a second. 

“Fuck!” Wonbin screamed out, no doubt you had atleast done some damage to his face. 

With adrenaline surging through your veins, you dashed out of the room and bolted down the stairs. But any attempt to strategize your escape was cut short as, upon reaching the staircase's base, you were confronted by a cluster of young men—undoubtedly members of Wonbin's pack.

“Don’t let her escape!” Wonbin’s enraged shout echoed behind you, his fury palpable.

Taking advantage of your head start and their initial surprise, you made a beeline for the door. The only thought in your mind was to reach the outside and change into your wolf, but the exit seemed impossibly far. The pack members, larger and swifter than you, quickly closed in from both sides, effectively blocking any route of escape.

“No, get your fucking hands off me!” You screeched, clawing at them to release you, but to no avail, their hold on you was unrelenting as they carried you back upstairs. 

“Fucking bitch got me good,” Wonbin raged, the fire in his eyes blazing fiercely. Blood streamed down his face, evidence of your attack that had left his nose crooked to one side.

They forcefully escorted you back to the room, hurling you inside and slamming the door shut, leaving you alone with Wonbin. Fear gripped your entire being, realizing the extent of his anger from your attempted escape.

“Please, I just want to go home,” you pleaded desperately, tears brimming in your eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings and the presence of strangers sent a shiver down your spine. All you wanted was the familiar warmth and safety of your home.

“I told you, this is your home now. You’re being fucking ungrateful, I saved you!” his voice seethed with frustration. His agitation was palpable, and you sensed he was on the brink of losing control.

How had everything spiraled into this nightmare? How could a chance encounter with someone lead to being kidnapped?

“Wonbin, I know there's nothing between us. You can't keep me here; I'm not your mate. You need to let me go,” you pleaded, but it seemed like your words fell on deaf ears. Wonbin was fixated on the idea that you belonged to him, despite the fleeting and insignificant nature of your prior interaction.

“Stop denying it! The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant for me. My wolf connected with yours in a way I've never experienced before!” His voice resonated with fury and desperation.

Your tears flowed freely, a mix of frustration and fear consuming you as you felt utterly powerless in the situation. “You can't force feelings that aren't there! My pack is going to find me, and when they do, Beomgyu is going fucking kill you, you sick bastard!”

The next few moments unfolded in a surreal, almost cinematic manner, as if you were a mere spectator to your own life rather than an active participant. Wonbin lunged at you once more, his hand aiming for your neck. However, instead of tightening his grip, he swiftly turned your head to the side and sank his teeth into the exact spot where Beomgyu's mark rested on your neck.

A searing, blinding sensation shot through every nerve of your body, rendering you immobile. The agony you experienced was a stark contrast to the previous marking by Beomgyu; this pain wasn't the sweet, intimate agony you had felt with his mark. No, this was an excruciating torment, as though molten metal had been poured onto your skin, scorching it raw. The agony consumed you, leaving you helpless to do anything but unleash piercing screams, tears cascading down your hauntingly contorted face. Each moment felt like an eternity as the intensity of the pain grew, until finally, darkness engulfed you, mercifully offering respite from the overwhelming agony.

You couldn’t determine the length of your imprisonment in this grim place. It felt like days had passed, though it might have stretched into weeks or even months, but you had lost track. Your state resembled catatonia; Wonbin entered your cell multiple times a day, urging you to eat and talk, but your responses were nonexistent. Your weakened body struggled even to sit up, let alone engage with Wonbin's twisted fantasies.

Wonbin's bite had inflicted a devastating toll on you, seemingly killing you both physically and mentally. Once filled with the vibrant energy of your wolf, you now felt a void. Every attempt to connect with your wolf ended in pitch-black emptiness, as if she was never even there in the first place. You were convinced that Wonbin's bite had killed her, leaving you on the brink of succumbing to a similar fate. The wound from his bite festered, refusing to heal and instead spreading its infection throughout your body. Pus oozed from the site, signaling your deteriorating condition. Your body showed signs of impending demise, resembling a shadow of your former self, and the loss of appetite only exacerbated your bleak situation. Desperation for survival eluded you; your spirit had dwindled to a mere spark in the face of such overwhelming torment.

“Y/N, please, you have to eat,” Sungchan pleaded, his voice laced with concern. He had been tasked with delivering your meals every day, but his efforts to persuade you to eat felt futile, a recurring conversation that had lost its impact.

You turned your head to face the tall boy. Sungchan was kind, and in a different circumstance, you might have found friendship in him. Yet, in this grim reality, he was undeniably tied to Wonbin and his pack, making it impossible to separate the two in your mind.

Shaking your head weakly, you whispered, “I don’t want to die here.”

His brows furrowed in genuine worry, “You’re not going to die.”

With a bitter laugh that drained you further, you retorted, “Yesterday, one of your elders and your Alpha were here to check on me. I heard them talking outside. They said I was dying. It won’t be long now, I suppose.”

“We’re not going to let you die. Just eat, it’ll make you feel better,” Sungchan persisted, his tone tinged with helplessness. He attempted to convince you, although deep down, he knew their efforts might be hollow at this point.

“You know that’s not true.” Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with a longing to see your pack one last time, to find solace in Beomgyu's warm embrace before dying.

Sungchan grappled with conflicting thoughts. He had no firsthand experience of having a mate, but seeing your deteriorating condition made him question everything. In the beginning, he believed his friend's claims, but the more he witnessed your decline, the more he realized the falsehoods in Wonbin's assertions. How could you possibly be Wonbin's mate when you only got worse ened the longer you were under his control?

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Your question interrupted his thoughts, causing Sungchan to startle slightly. He nodded slowly, his expression reflecting uncertainty about your request. “When I die, can you tell Beomgyu that this wasn’t his fault and that I love him?” With that, you turned away, settling back onto your bed.

Sungchan’s eyes filled with tears at your words, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily upon him. 

You were sure it isn't time for breakfast yet when you're awakened, and from what you can see through the crack between the curtains, it's still the middle of the night.

"What's happening?" You croaked, your eyes adjusting to the light. Before you stood Sungchan, accompanied by Anton, another one of Wonbin’s pack mates, though you haven't been as acquainted with him as you were with Sungchan.

"You have to be quiet. Here, wear this," Sungchan instructed, handing you dark clothes. He and Anton turn around, offering you privacy to change. You hesitated, but complied.

"What's going on?" You repeated once you were changed, utterly confused by the unexpected turn of events.

“We’re getting you out.” Anton revealed. 

The words seemed surreal, and your disbelief was evident on your face, prompting Sungchan to reaffirm what the younger boy just said. "Yeah, we're going to help you return to your pack. Back to your mate," Sungchan whispered to you.

Your eyes widened, but you were not entirely convinced. Just hours earlier, there was no sign that Sungchan would fulfill your wish to return home, so you remained cautious.

“We have to be really quiet, though. The Alpha and Wonbin are both on patrol duty alongside a couple of the others, but Eunseok is still next door, so we have to be careful.” You were still reeling with the fact that this seemed to be happening, but you didn’t hesitate to nod.

The three of you then quickly made your way out, moving stealthily down the stairs, holding your breaths, hoping there were no creaks to wake up Eunseok. It felt surreal when you reached the back door, and when Anton opened it, fresh air greeted you, bringing tears to your eyes. 

“Through the back part of the woods, there are only two patrols tonight, so that’s the route we’re going to take. It’s going to take a little longer, but we can’t risk getting caught at all,” Sungchan informed you of the plan as the three of you navigated through the woods, staying vigilant, taking in your surroundings in case anyone was out in these areas. 

“You’re wearing Sungchan’s clothes, so hopefully his smell masks you enough to not stick out to anyone. Sorry if it’s stinky,” Anton chuckled a little, attempting to lighten the situation. However, you frowned, realizing you couldn’t detect his scent or any scent at all, even when you pressed your nose firmly against the sweatshirt. It dawned on you that your wolf might have truly perished, leaving you unsure if you could even transform anymore.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” After a somber silence, Sungchan broke the quietness. “I really thought you were Wonbin’s mate. The way he came to us after meeting you had everyone convinced that he really had found his mate.”

Anton nodded, a pained expression on his face. “Yeah, we were blinded by our loyalty, too caught up to realize he might’ve been mistaken. We thought you had been stolen from your true mate when, in reality, we were the ones stealing you from yours.”

Your heart ached with the realization of the damage Wonbin had caused, dragging innocent people into the turmoil created by his misguided infatuation. “I can’t say that I can fully come to forgive you guys, but thank you for saying that. I know that ultimately, Wonbin is to blame, and you were acting in response to your loyalty towards him, but I think there are irreversible consequences due to what happened. I can’t feel my wolf.”

Anton gasped, turning towards you in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been gone since Wonbin bit me, and no matter how much I’ve called out for her, I’m just left with coldness. I think that’s why I’m dying. I can’t smell anything, and I’m not even sure I have the strength to turn, if I can even do that,” you explained, feeling the despair of being stripped of the essence of your being.

“Maybe she’ll come back once we get you back. I’m sure of it,” Sungchan offered in a faint attempt to provide hope.

You offered back a tight smile, but you weren’t as optimistic as they seemed to be. 

"Okay, once we pass this tree, we'll likely be in range for the patrol guys to hear or catch our scent. Anton and I will handle them; while we're distracting them, you need to circle around through those trees and start running. This is as far as we can take you without raising suspicion," Sungchan explained the plan, making your heart race knowing how close you were to making it back home.

"Thank you both for doing this, and I'm sorry Wonbin dragged you into this mess." Even though you knew they weren't entirely innocent in your capture, you couldn't shake the guilt over how Wonbin's selfish desires had caused such chaos. Returning to your pack, you knew they wouldn't let Wonbin's pack get away with what they'd done. There was likely going to be war waged between the packs, especially once they see Wonbin’s mark on your skin. 

"I am genuinely so sorry for everything, Y/N and there’s probably no chance we'll meet again, but I hope you get better," Anton said, offering you a final smile before they leave, heading towards the patrolled area.

From behind a large tree, you could faintly hear Sungchan and Anton making noises, signaling your cue to start running along the path they'd instructed.

You were exhausted, each step feeling like your last as fatigue weighed heavily on your body. However, the thought of reuniting with your pack pushed you to take one more step until you seemed to have reached a main road. Keeping your pace, you kept going, not knowing exactly where you were, but you knew the further away you were from Wonbin, the safer you were. 

You didn’t know how long you had been running but you knew you had reached almost the end of what your body could withstand with hour your vision started to cloud with black spots, and breathing became harder and harder. Then, a flashing bright light caught your attention, sending a bolt of fear through your already exhausted frame. Had they finally caught up to you?

Instinctively, you swerved to flee, but unexpectedly collided with someone, the impact forcing the air from your lungs. “Oof!”

“Y/N?” The voice that uttered your name was tinged with astonishment and disbelief

Looking up, as you recognized the face, a strange mix of relief and exhaustion enveloped you. Your body, sensing safety, began to shut down, pushed beyond its limit.

"Hey, I need backup over here!" Taehyun's dad's urgent call resonated through the air, likely directed to the other members of the patrol. He turned back to you with reassurance. "Y/N, hey, I've got you. We've got you. You're safe now," were the last words you heard before everything went black.

A sliver of bright sunlight peeked through the curtain, momentarily blinding you as your eyes fluttered open. The events of the past few days flooded back into your hazy consciousness, almost convincing you that it had all been a terrible nightmare. But as you attempted to move, your body protested with searing pain, a stark reminder that Wonbin's kidnapping had been reality.

Beside you, a figure in the bedroom chair stirred, catching your attention. "Y/N," Beomgyu blinked rapidly, trying to fully awaken at the sight of you. Instantly, waves of emotion surged within you, and tears streamed down your face. You were home.

"Shh, baby, it's okay." Beomgyu hurried to your side, enfolding you in his comforting embrace. His hand gently smoothed your hair as you sobbed into his reassuring warmth.

"Is this real?" You managed to ask through your tears.

"Yes, it is. I'm here," Beomgyu reassured you, holding you close until your emotions began to settle. "I'll go let everyone know you're awake. I'll be back."

Sniffling, you nodded, watching him leave the room. Yet, as you waited for Beomgyu's return, you couldn't shake the realization that your wolf had not returned. Sungchan's hopeful assumption that she would come back once you were reunited with your mate seemed to be disproved, leaving you feeling the absence of your essential part.

As Beomgyu re-entered the room, your parents followed closely behind, their emotions palpable as they laid eyes on your awakened state. Your mother dissolved into inconsolable sobs, her hands shielding her tear-streaked face, while your father, fighting back his own emotions, enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Honey, I'm so sorry,” your father murmured, his embrace filled with both relief and regret. “We searched everywhere for you. They covered their tracks meticulously, even masking their scents with wolfsbane. It was impossible to trace.”

Beomgyu nodded in agreement, his expression tinged with restrained anger. “Every lead was a dead end. We knew their pack was nearby, with the way they had been causing trouble with us regarding the borders, but they hid you well. We did everything to find you, but they were one step ahead. It was well-planned, and I'm sorry we couldn't rescue you sooner.”

You observed the simmering fury behind the controlled facades of your father and Beomgyu. You knew they were suppressing their rage for your sake, but now that you were returned, they wouldn't hold back against Wonbin's pack.

“Sweetheart, what have they done to you?” Your mother's heart-wrenching words pierced the air as she took in your weakened state. The contrast from your healthy and vibrant self before your capture to your current frail appearance was stark. You looked drained and sickly, hollowed out by the ordeal. Despite the bandages concealing Wonbin’s bite, you felt the continuous deterioration within your body, an unrelenting decay.

“Wonbin, he-” You choked on the memory of the abuse inflicted upon you. “He marked me, tried to claim me, but my wolf rejected it. In the midst of it, I think... I think it killed her.”

Your mother's gasp reverberated through the room upon your revelation. “I can’t reach her. I can’t smell, hear, and I don’t think I can shift right now.”

Beomgyu huffed with suppressed anger, visible veins bulging in his neck as he struggled to contain his rage. His wolf seethed, enraged at the state his mate had been returned in. Despite your reunion, his wolf remained unable to feel yours. His desperate howls for her went unanswered.

“We’ll call the Elders; they’ll know what to do. Don’t worry about that now, focus on getting better,” your father attempted to reassure you, though uncertainty lingered in his voice.

“Yes, later we’ll discuss this with the Alpha and the Elders. But rest for now; you need it. Beomgyu will stay with you, he’ll make you feel better” your mother addressed your mate, receiving a nod confirming his intention to remain by your side. Beomgyu had made it clear he would never let you out of his sight again.

You nodded at your parents as they hugged you tightly, your mother holding back sobs before leaving you to rest. The room fell into a solemn quiet, only disrupted by the sound of Beomgyu's stifled sniffles. As you turned to him, you noticed tears streaming down his face. The once fiery anger in his expression had given way to an overwhelming sense of devastation.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t do anything,” he said, kneeling beside your bed. A closer look revealed how much he had been affected. His vibrant features were now pale and worn out, the usual sparkle in his eyes replaced with a hollow emptiness. He seemed sleep-deprived, his exhaustion etched into every line of his face. Your heart ached at the sight of him.

“Oh, Beomgyu, it’s not your fault,” you reassured him, reaching out to cup his face and wiping away a tear.

“But you are my responsibility. Mine to cherish and mine to keep safe, but I failed you in every way a mate can. Now you're bearing the consequences. I feel like a part of me was ripped away and I ache, longing to feel you again, but I can’t. I can’t imagine what you went through, what you’re going through right now,” Beomgyu's words were heavy with guilt, taking on responsibility for your suffering even though it wasn't his fault.

"Baby, it’s not your fault. Wonbin’s the only one to blame for everything, you can’t put that on yourself," you reassured him, gently urging him to come up onto the bed. "Come on, let’s sleep. I think we both need it."

As the days slipped by in a blur since your awakening, the constant stream of visitors revealed a spectrum of emotions, from guilt to sadness, from your friends. Meetings with the Elders and the Alpha became routine, although you struggled to remain engaged for long as fatigue often overcame you, urging you back to rest. Despite everyone’s best efforts, you didn’t seem to be getting better.

"We know where they are, why can't we just go after them?" Beomgyu's frustration echoed in his raised voice, pacing the room in agitation. With each passing day, his impatience grew regarding the lack of decisive action.

"We can't risk a war," his father stated with an exhausted sigh, understanding his son's sentiments all too well. As much as he empathized with his son's anger and the injustice done to the family, his role as Alpha demanded a broader perspective. You were now part of his family, and the assault on his loved ones evoked a deep sense of anger and distress, but his responsibilities to the pack weighed heavily in decision-making.

“She's your fucking daughter-in-law, my mate, and you're just going to let them get away with what they did to her?” Beomgyu's anger surged, directed at his father, causing Yeonjun to stand and attempt to calm his younger brother.

His father, burdened by the weight of leadership, sighed deeply, trying to maintain composure amidst the escalating emotions. "They will face consequences, but we must proceed with caution. We can't rush into a conflict," he tried to reason, his tone strained with the gravity of the situation.

Beomgyu, consumed by fear and anger, felt a surge of despair. "Clearly not! Stop being a fucking pussy and hiding behind diplomacy! She's dying, and if she goes, I know I will too. So I hope you don’t regret not acting then," he raged before storming out, leaving behind a stunned silence.

He made a beeline for the house next door and straight to your room, knowing your fragile state. Seeing you weakened and still without your wolf, his heart ached with a raw intensity. He wasn't just fighting for justice; he was fighting for your life, aware that losing you now would shatter him beyond repair. 

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with unspoken sorrow as Beomgyu settled next to you. His presence brought a fleeting comfort that momentarily eased the weight of your pain.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice was tender, his concern evident in the way he gazed at you.

You managed a faint smile, making room for him under the covers. “I’ve been okay, just the same. My shoulder hurts a lot, but I think I’m kind of used to the ache now.”

As he joined you in bed, you nestled into his embrace, seeking solace in his warmth. His arms enveloped you, offering a sense of security in this uncertain time. The quiet moments with Beomgyu were the highlights in your otherwise bleak days, and you cherished this closeness.

“I promise you’ll get better, I’ll do everything I can,” he murmured softly, his words filled with sincerity even as the harsh reality loomed over both of you. The hope for a recovery seemed dim, despite the Elders' efforts.

“It’s okay, Beomgyu,” you replied, your voice quivering with emotion. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, looking at him with a fragile smile. The weight of the situation hung in the air, and both of you knew the inevitable truth. Yet, in that moment, you found solace in each other’s presence, clinging to the love that bound you together.

In the quiet of the room, hearts heavy and minds burdened, you held onto each other, hoping against hope that love would somehow conquer the devastation. As sleep enveloped you, you both prayed for a miracle, for anything that could piece together the shattered fragments of your world.

The night laid still, marked only by distant owl hoots, yet you jolted awake, an unusual occurrence for you to rise before dawn. Reaching out beside you, your hand met nothing but cold sheets. Beomgyu was gone.

You scanned the room frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but there was no trace. Fumbling for your lamp, you sought the solace of light to offer some clarity. His absence in the dead of night was unfamiliar and unsettling.

As you contemplated getting out of bed, the door creaked open. Your body tensed with uncertainty, until the form of a familiar, colossal beast emerged, its fur as dark as the night itself. Relief swept over you momentarily, recognizing the distinct wolf form to be none other than your mate. However, as the figure drew closer, a viscous liquid dripping from their fur became apparent, sparking fear in your eyes.

“What happened?” You instinctively reached for his fur, panic setting in as you saw your hands smeared in crimson. You inspected every inch of the wolf's body, but there's no clear source for such an amount of blood, easing your immediate concern yet deepening your confusion.

“Beomgyu, whose blood is this?” You implored, meeting his glowing blue eyes, yet you received no response. He ignored your inquiries, seeking solace in your embrace as his massive wolf form pressed against you, compelling you to encircle your arms around his colossal figure.

“Please, babe, what happened?” You pleaded once more, urging him to meet your gaze. He let out a faint huff before finally shifting back into his human form, standing bare before you, his body coated in blood that seemed inexplicably present, prompting a surge of concern. 

He pulled you into a tight embrace, unconcerned about the blood smearing everywhere, and you reciprocated, though his words sent a shiver down your spine. "Wonbin, we took care of him and his pack."

His revelation chilled you to the bone as the implications sank in. "What do you mean? Beomgyu, what did you do?"

“We couldn't just stand by after what he did to you. We went after him tonight. You don't need to worry about them anymore.” You felt a mix of relief and confusion, wanting more clarity.

"Who's 'we,' and what exactly happened?" You broke away from the hug, studying his eyes and blood-spattered face.

"Me, Taehyun, Chaewon, and Yeonjun went out tonight. Taehyun had been tracking Wonbin's every move and knew he was on patrol. We ambushed him, and he gave a good fight, but I think he underestimated me. He got what he deserved, left his head at his dad's doorstep. That should be a message to them. If they're smart, they'll know not to provoke us again, or they'll lose more than just him." His words filled you with both awe and dread, knowing your friends risked their lives to gain justice for you.

“Beomgyu, you shouldn't have risked it. Your dad is going to be furious. He doesn’t know, does he?” Your voice was fraught with concern, aware of his father's adamant stance against taking any action until he understood the situation completely.

He shook his head, seemingly unperturbed by his father's potential reaction. “He’s probably finding out now. Yeonjun said he’d handle him, but honestly, I don't care about the consequences. Wonbin needed to pay for what he did to you, and if I get punished for that, then so be it.”

“So it’s really over now?” you asked, feeling a surge of relief.

Beomgyu nodded, and a sob of relief escaped you. You surged toward him, wrapping him in a passionate kiss. Emotions from the tumultuous days surged through both of you, an overwhelming mix of love and relief, as if you were making up for the lost time. The kiss was intense, as if he had been deprived of you for an eternity.

His hands play with the hem of your shirt, the only thing you were wearing to sleep along with your underwear, and unable to stand his teasing, you to rip it off of you. Your bare body presses against his as you reconnect your lips. Both your hands roam all over each other’s bodies, unable to get enough of one another. 

"God, Y/N, I'm in love with you," his voice trembled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was a revelation, a confession, delivered with such raw emotion that it brought a swell of emotions flooding through you. Your eyes welled up with tears as you realized the depth of his feelings, and your heart soared at the sheer overwhelming love he was expressing. 

"I love you too," you managed to whisper back, your voice choked with emotion. 

You leaned in to connect your lips again. Unlike any other times where the two of you were just fucking, this felt different. This shared love between you changed the very dynamic that surged between the two of you. The way Beomgyu moved inside of you wasn’t just to chase the feeling of mere superficial pleasure, instead the slow pace and shared kisses brought on beyond anything you had previously felt. It was a true form of unadulterated love and as the two of you reached your peaks together, you knew all too well at that moment that this was rare, pure, and dare you say perfect love found between you and him. 

Still swept up in a euphoric rush that felt endless, Beomgyu sensed a deep understanding of his next move. Guided by his wolf’s instincts, but now with complete clarity unlike before, he acted with determination. His bite landed directly on your marred skin where Wonbin had forcefully marked you, signaling a symbolic reset in you and his connection.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your skin. Although the previous marking had been excruciating and left you raw, Beomgyu's bite seemed to bring an unexpected sensation. It was as if his action was a remedy, a healing touch that started to mend the shattered pieces within you, making you feel whole once more.

And the next morning, the second you woke up, a radiant smile graced your face brighter than the morning sun at the realization. You turned towards your mate, excitement twinkling in your eyes, and exclaimed, "My wolf's back."

[caeslxys]

Zephrah actively postpones ruidusborn births. It is believed that the actual number of ruidusborn in exandrian history is much larger than has been officially recorded because the stigma of it was so intense that people lied about it. Alyxian, one of the few recorded ruidusborn heroes of the calamity who received direct blessings from three different prime deities (our very own Changebringer, the Archheart, and the Moonweaver) , has been all but forgotten (read: likely erased) by history.

The Archive of knowledge that revealed the truth of Predathos and Ruidus was never some forgotten thing—it was intentionally hidden by the elites in Vasselheim. And we have no idea how long they have been operating with that knowledge. We have no idea what they have been doing with that knowledge, what silent wars have been waging for years or decades or centuries. But we saw what they were willing to do, in Hearthdell. We saw the violence and suppression they were willing to commit. We saw the pettiness of the exandrian pantheon in the Dawnfather’s response to Deanna’s: “Are you worth saving?”. In the Changebringer’s manipulative change of course in her pleas to FCG. In the Wildmother’s rejection of Opal. In the knowledge we have that Imogen spent so much of her miserable time in Gelvaan begging the gods to aid her to no avail—just for Kord to reach out only to demand that she not let them down.

Liliana’s point that Vasselheim and the other faithful elite of the world will hunt ruidusborn down to negate even the potential of this happening again isn’t new, it isn’t something this solstice and the machinations surrounding it caused, and it isn’t some unsubstantiated, fearful claim—it has been happening.

The vanguard—and Liliana—are unequivocally wrong in their means. But can you really fault them in their desire? Can you really fault the conclusions they have drawn from the experiences they have lived? If you spend your entire life being rejected by the people and the pantheon of your world for means you could not possibly control, would you not seek out someone and somewhere that would accept you? And if you found it, if some being that has been connected with you your whole life welcomed you home and wrapped you in an embrace that felt like your mother’s and says that it is starving; well, aren’t you, too?

There is likely a holy war brewing. At the end of it all, is it truly the sole fault of the people and not the organizations and society that expelled them?

[siancore]

Pockets of Peaceful Bliss

A little glimpse into small pre-canon moments between Rick and Michonne at the Prison. Based on this post by @myobsessionsspace

There was a lot to figure out after the run to King County, the reunion with Morgan, and finding a new and tentative balance with Michonne. Rick found himself wanting to seek her out, so he did. He found her where the guns they had secured were being cleaned, checked, and loaded. She was in the main communal space helping the other survivors. Rick entered the room and walked around inspecting the weapons – offering assistance when needed – but always his gaze found Michonne.   

He watched as she cleaned and oiled one of the handguns, loaded its clip, and placed it aside. She was so studious in the work that she was doing. So focused on the task at hand. So willing to fight for Rick and his people. To earn her place amongst them. Carl had made the call: She was one of them. And Rick was relieved by that call, not that he understood why.   

After Carol, Maggie, and a few others had finished what they were doing and left the space, Rick watched to make sure he and Michonne were alone before approaching her.  

“How’re they lookin’?” Rick asked, gesturing toward the row of handguns Michonne had prepared.   

“They’re good,” she replied, lifting her gaze to meet Rick’s eyes. “They’ll get the job done.”  

Rick nodded his head and Michonne mirrored the action before she moved to walk away.  

“Michonne,” he said quietly, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I just wanted to thank you again for today.”  

She shrugged her shoulder, shook her head, and said, “You don’t have to thank me. Any one of us would’ve went on that run with you.”  

Rick placed a hand to his hip and shifted his weight to the corresponding leg as he gestured with the other.   

“Yeah,” he drawled. “But not just anyone would’ve been patient with Carl like that. Taking him to get the crib.”  

“It was nothing, really,” she tried to brush off.  

“And to go get that photo for him,” said Rick, as he averted his gaze a moment. “For Judith.”  

A beat of silence passed between the pair before Rick said, “Thank you for that. It means a lot to Carl. Means a lot to me.”  

He gave Michonne a small, sad smile which she returned.   

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.   

They stood there then, staring at one another, not knowing what else to say, but not really wanting to move away from the other. After a minute, Rick spoke once more.   

“Carl also mentioned you found a cat statue,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into a little amused grin.   

Michonne smiled as well and said, “Oh yeah, the cat sculpture. It’s gorgeous. Thought if I was gonna stick around for a while, I might as well find something other than Merle’s shining personality to brighten this place up.”  

Rick nodded his head and huffed out an amused laugh. That felt odd to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had laughed and meant it. He held her gaze and marveled at how a small smile lit her whole face up. He wondered what it would look like if she beamed brightly at him.   

Rick shook the thought from his mind and then said, “I hope there’ll be much of a place left here after we fight this war.”  

Michonne’s smile faded away and a staunch expression covered her face.  

“There will be something left here,” she said firmly, unequivocally. “We’ll make sure of it.”  

With that, she gave Rick another certain look and a nod of her head, before walking away and leaving him standing there. The exchange between them was so fleeting, but it was exactly what Rick needed, even if, at that moment, he did not understand why.  

It was turning into a long night. Rick had just put Judith down to sleep for the evening after she had had a restless time. It was late when he finally got her settled. After he was satisfied that the small girl was finally sleeping soundly, Rick then went to check on Carl who looked like he was not ready for bed. The younger Grimes had a flashlight in hand while reading.  

“What’s goin’ on?” asked Rick, startling his son somewhat. “Shouldn’t you be sleepin’? Thought you finished reading a while ago.”  

“I was just gonna go give these to Michonne,” said Carl as he held up the stack of comic books. The ones Michonne had asked to read after he was done with them.   

“I think it’s time for you to switch off the flashlight and get some sleep,” he said with no real chastisement to his tone. “It’s late, and I ain’t dealing with two grumpy kids in the morning.”  

“But what about the comic books for Michonne?” Carl asked right away.  

“You can give ‘em to her tomorrow,” Rick replied. “Lights off, please.”  

“Okay. Goodnight, dad.”  

“Night, son.”  

...  

Rick smiled to himself as he went to the communal kitchen to clean Judith’s bottle. Carl really cared about Michonne, and she cared for Carl. Watching them become closer was really nice. They were building a nice life at the Prison. Judith was healthy and growing, Carl was finding his way. Rick continued his musings until he found Michonne in the kitchen nursing a warm cup of milk.   

“Hey,” said Rick, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.   

“Hey,” she replied with that small smile Rick had begun to seek out. “Finally got Judith down for the night?”  

“Yeah,” Rick replied as he filled the bottle with hot water. “Finally. I also found Carl up still reading those comic books you brought him.”  

Michonne’s smile widened at that news and Rick wanted to draw the moment out longer. He soaked the bottle in a plastic container and then took up a seat at the small round table Michonne was sitting at.   

“You like that, uh?” he asked playfully. “That I’m probably gonna have to deal with two sleep-deprived, grouchy kids tomorrow?”  

Michonne let out a little laugh and it sounded like a sweet song to Rick’s ears.   

“No, of course not,” she proffered with her hands raised. “I just love that Carl’s really enjoying the comics. It’s good to see him being a kid.”  

Rick smiled and bit his bottom lip.   

“Yeah,” he replied. “It is. Thank you for that.”  “I didn’t do anything,” she replied.  

“You brought him the books,” said Rick softly. “That helps. You’re always helping and doing nice things you don’t have to do.”  

“Yeah, well, Carl’s a good kid,” said Michonne with an adoring little smile. “He deserves it.”  

Rick nodded his head and then grew contemplative for a moment.   

“And it’s not just the stuff you do for Carl,” Rick added. “It’s what you do for everyone here at the Prison. You’re always the first one to put your hand up to go on runs. Always making sure the safety of the people here comes first. Always sharing your skills. You’re just so good – thank you.”  

Michonne’s face was awash with something Rick had never seen before: Something akin to shyness.  

“Well, it’s what you do when you care about people,” she said softly. “When you care about someone.”  

The pair sat staring at one another for a stretch and Rick could see it. The moment of vulnerability in Michonne. He didn’t want her to withdraw, so he spoke up in an attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. And I gotta admit, even though the comics are keepin’ Carl up after bedtime, you’re really good at gift-giving,” said Rick, before running his hand over his face. “You brought me the clippers, so.”  

Michonne smiled at that as the weight of their little moment dissipated in the late-night air.  

“Yes, and I see you haven’t used them yet,” Michonne teased, causing Rick to let out a little laugh.  

“True,” he said, padding his palm against his facial hair once more. “I think it kinda suits me, though.”  

Michonne let her eyes roam over Rick’s face as she gave him an appraising look.  

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I think so, too.”  

When Rick finally went to bed that night, he closed his eyes and pictured Michonne’s pretty smile. It was the first time in a long time that his dreams were not plagued with blood and wailing. It was nice, he mused in the forgiving morning light. Nice to have the small moments with Michonne. Nice to share in those little pockets of peaceful bliss.  

[mikavlcs]

Reverie

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x cryomancer!reader

Summary: In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge too).

Warnings: panic attack, implied abuse and violence, blood, reader is a Simp, it gets a bit morbid near the end lol, abrupt ending

Word count: 5.5k (sigh)

Notes: this fic made me realize just how much i struggle with character descriptions... but anyways this is a long request for literally the nicest anon ever, whoever you are i hope you enjoy this! 

Masterlist | Part 2

Silence was something that you cherished.

Throughout the years, the numerous group homes, revolving door of foster parents, and whirlwind of schools you attended instilled a yearning for calm and quiet. A need for peace to soothe your daily anxieties.

Loud noises were bothersome, they reminded you of things better left forgotten which is why you put forth your best effort to avoid them wherever you ended up.

Nevermore Academy was no different.

Though it was a school for outcasts, it was still a school. A place that housed hundreds of rowdy, unruly teenagers for the better part of the year. And teenage outcasts were still teenagers.

You learned quickly to avoid the quad at all times of day except after curfew, the only time when it was completely empty save for some roaming teachers. 

Lunches were spent in empty classrooms instead of the cafeteria and free time was spent exploring the campus for a place to claim as your own, like you have in every place you inhabited over the years.

But luck, it seemed, was not on your side because not a single place you found fit your needs.

Sure, there were quieter places like the library or the dorms (depending on the hour), but it was rare that found a place that offered actual meaningful silence.

Surprisingly, the solution to your problem came the moment you looked beyond the cramped campus of the school, and that solution was the forest.

The vast woodland that separated Nevermore and Jericho was thick, comprised of thousands of trees, and filled with life of all kinds—tall, vibrant green trees, a myriad of bird species, scampering squirrels, and even foxes during parts of the year.  

Unfortunately, not all of the life that resided there was welcome. You heard whispers of something in the forest killing unsuspecting hikers and truckers. The mayor said it was bears, but you knew better.

Knowledge of the danger that lurked amongst the trees only made the woods that much more enticing to you. You trusted your ability to keep yourself safe with your powers. A wall of ice was a simple thing for you to create, but not for someone (or something) else to break.

The forest became your safe haven. Because of the murders, both students and Jericho residents alike tended to keep their distance, which made your solitude nearly guaranteed.

The chirping of birds in the distance and whistling of the trees in the wind made for a beautiful ambiance to read in. And it remained unequivocally yours for the first part of the semester.

Then a new student arrived mid-semester.

You never went out of your way to look for her, knowing you would hate that kind of attention yourself, but you still managed to see glimpses. Truthfully, she was hard to miss.

A girl dressed head to toe in black, twin braids framed a permanently impassive face, dead eyes set on the path in front of her. With her came a sense of foreboding, like storm clouds on the horizon. You would’ve sworn she was also a cryomancer with the way she seemed to chill the atmosphere around her.

Students parted like the Red Sea when she walked through the halls, determined to avoid her wrath. Given the few rumors you heard in passing across the school, you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

But those glimpses were few and far between, mere moments when your eyes caught a flash of monochrome, then she was gone.

She shared a handful of classes with you, but she was always seated across the room from you, just out of your sightline. By the time class ended and you got your things together to leave, she was on her way to her next class.

The first time you truly saw her was in passing.

You were at your spot in the woods, resting your back against the broad trunk of a tree as you read when the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Curious, you glanced up toward the sound and sure enough, there she was a few meters away heading in your direction.

She paused when your eyes met but remained silent. The only indication of surprise was the way her eyes narrowed, brows lowering ever so slightly.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone, you know,” she said. Her voice was cold as a winter breeze. You liked it, it suited her.

“I could say the same to you,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You kept your focus on your story, eyes dutifully scanning the sentences, but in your peripherals, you could see her still standing there.

Another moment passed before she resumed walking, heading off in the direction she had been going before and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lifted to the retreating figure, following her until she was completely out of sight.

A curious encounter, but not one you ended up giving much thought to.

Then she showed up again.

Only the very next day did she appear once more, the circumstances exactly the same as before. You read, she walked. Except this time she didn’t pause, just kept marching past you.

Same with the next day. And the next. And the next. You were almost convinced that you two had a pseudo routine when, with no warning, it changed.

One rather humid afternoon, you heard her footsteps and didn’t bother looking up, knowing she would just continue on her way. But today she didn’t. Today, her steps faltered as she went by you, and above your book, you saw her pivot.

Your eyes were drawn up by the unfamiliar movement. Brows furrowed, you watched as she settled against a tree opposite of you and rummaged around in her bag, pulling a textbook and paper out.

From where you were, you couldn’t see what the paper was, but the book you immediately recognized. It was a textbook for Botany—one of the few classes you shared with her. The paper must’ve been the homework that you finished in class.

You were almost tempted to offer your help, but you knew she had no need for it.

So you turned your attention back to your book, reading a bit slower with the distraction of the girl across from you.

The worksheet, unsurprisingly, took Wednesday all of ten minutes to complete, but she stayed there with you for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out a book after she finished the homework.

Not a word was spoken between either of you, not even an exchange of names. Just you, her, and the blissful, silent serenity of the forest around you.

She left at sundown, packing her things and walking away without sparing a glance your way. You left soon after, a smile pulling at your lips.

When she returned the next day, that same smile appeared. Even when she didn’t stop to sit.

Your pseudo routine had shifted.

Some days she left to venture into the forest, some days she stayed with you. And though you were content to just sit with her when she allowed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where she went off to on the days she chose to keep walking.

Your answer ended up coming from Enid. The girl had asked to sit next to you in Vampire Anatomy class and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Through the blog posts that Enid insisted you read, you learned that her name was Wednesday Addams, and she was trying to find the “monster” that lurked in Jericho’s forest.

Your existing interest was piqued after that. The urge to tag along with her pulled at you every time you watched her disappear into the forest, but you tried to ignore it. 

Though true crime had always been a passing interest, it wasn’t something you knew quite enough about to be of any actual use to Wednesday.

Still, you couldn’t help but try.

When you asked to join Wednesday in her investigation, you expected a cold and firm no. Instead, she neither accepted nor declined your offer. Simply looked at you, normally dull eyes shining chaotic as lightning, then walked off into the forest, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

Thus began your actual new routine. You’d head to the forest after class, read until Wednesday arrived, and wait until she informed you of her afternoon plans.

If she sat against the tree that you’d begun to call hers, then the afternoon hours would be spent together in blissful silence. But if she didn’t, she would walk past you, only pausing briefly to spare you a glance, extending a silent invitation that you always accepted.

Afternoons that weren’t spent in the serenity of the forest were spent acquiring evidence, gathering information, and sussing out any potential suspects.

Weeks of slow, but steady progress were made (mostly by Wednesday) and you enjoyed every second of it.

She still didn’t offer up much information about herself—her likes and interests (aside from general morbidity) were never so much as alluded to during your time investigating, but you liked that. 

In your mind, she was like a puzzle that not many had the patience to put together. But you enjoyed the intrigue, savored the challenge.

You kept much of your own history to yourself as well. If asked you would say that you did it in a bid to make yourself seem more mysterious, but really you just didn’t like talking about it.

The past was something you desperately just wanted to forget and Wednesday excelled at making you do just that, even if she didn’t know it.

Before you knew it, you found yourself falling for her in a way you never had before. But who could blame you, really?

A short, but statuesque figure with eyes like black ice and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks that put the stars to shame. How anyone couldn’t be entranced at first glance was beyond you.

Your closeness with Wednesday, even if only for professional purposes on her end, served to further the distance between you and your classmates but you didn’t particularly care. What they feared, you admired and while you could understand their fear, you couldn’t fathom ever being afraid of Wednesday. Even at her most grotesque, she was enchanting.

Stupid as it may be, you’d follow her anywhere. You knew that, once you exhausted your welcome, she would likely discard you, but until then you’d just sit back and enjoy the ride with her.

This sentiment led you to Outreach Day.

To put it simply, Outreach Day was a goddamn mess.

Part of your day was spent in a pilgrim-themed dystopian hellscape trying to find information on Joseph Crackstone, another deep in the forest behind Jericho, searching the dilapidated remains of a meeting house from centuries ago.

Naturally, this culminated in the two of you getting chased by the very monster you were trying to investigate, which certainly wasn’t part of your plans for the day when you woke up, but with Wednesday you never really knew what you were going to get.

Fortunately, your near-death experience wasn’t for naught because you had learned one incredibly important fact.

The monster, whatever it was, was human. It was someone that either lived in Jericho or attended Nevermore Academy with you and Wednesday. Likely, it was someone they had already interacted with, knowingly or not.

That thought haunted you the entire long walk back into Jericho. So much so that Wednesday had to tell you to calm down because you were freezing the rain around you into snow and leaving icy footprints wherever you walked.

By the time you stepped back into the town, you were ready to go to your dorm and call it a night. Thankfully, the day was almost over. The only thing standing between you and your bed was the stupid statue unveiling everyone was forced to attend.

You were walking to the town square when it happened.

Thoughts about the monster’s identity were just starting to abate, boredom taking its place as you entered Jericho proper. Wednesday was beside you, matching your strides perfectly while she talked with Thing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

Even in the middle of the day, the town wasn’t bustling (though when was it ever?). A few residents peppered the streets, going about their day quietly while you and Wednesday passed them.

You idly scanned the town goers, eyes snagging on a woman on the opposite end of the road who looked oddly familiar.

The woman had her head turned, appearing to be on the phone with someone. You watched her carefully, slowing your pace slightly, and when she finally turned her head, it instantly clicked.

Walking down that street was your former foster parent, Mary.

You could remember the day you met her like it was yesterday.

It had been years since you’d been adopted out and swiftly swept back into the system once your last family found out that you were an outcast. You’d been told that someone was finally interested in you again and you were overjoyed to meet them.

Mary was a tall woman with a kind smile and the name of a catholic saint. You weren’t religious, but you figured (hoped) that it had to mean something.

You thought her your savior, your ticket out of the system forever, and she ended up being responsible for the worst years of your life.

When you snapped back to the present, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wednesday was a few steps ahead, giving you a strange look. You wanted to explain or, better yet, grab her and drag her out of the town entirely, but it was too late. Mary was already looking your way.

Your eyes met and suddenly, you were twelve again. Angry shouts reverberated in your ears, mimicking the way they echoed off the cramped walls of the house. You saw yourself cowering in the face of her anger, shrinking into yourself as much as you could.

There was a flurry of movement, a sharp crack, and even now you swore you could feel the sting of the impact on your cheek.

She hated you, and you could still see remnants of that hatred now, even from across the street.

Distantly, you could hear Wednesday say something, but the sound was muffled by the roar of your blood in your ears. Despite the cool temperature, you were beginning to sweat, heart rate gradually picking up as you stared at the ghost from your past.

Mary hung up the phone and started toward you. That was all you needed.

The last thing you felt was the brush of cold fingers on your wrist before you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, feet carrying you as fast as physically possible. There was no real destination in mind, just away from her.

When the burning in your chest became unbearable, you stumbled into an alley. Your chest heaved and just as you were going to try and catch your breath, your legs crumpled beneath you, sending you careening into the nearest wall. You slid down to the ground and squeezed your knees to your chest.

Clarity evaded you no matter how much you tried to find it. You had seen people you knew in public before, even your other former foster parents, so you had no idea why seeing her was affecting you so badly.

Your heart pulsed endlessly in your chest, blood pumping through your veins like you were moving at a million miles per hour, yet you were frozen, your body permanently suspended in motion. A living contradiction that you couldn’t make any sense of.

The pain in your chest intensified, drawing your limbs in to try and relieve the ache. It felt as if your body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a dying star.

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were helpless to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as the ache grew.

For an awful moment, you genuinely thought you were going to die.

A flash of movement and suddenly there was something—no, someone in front of you. They crouched before you, their face coming into view and familiar dark orbs stared at you in a way you’d never seen before.

Wednesday.

Relief momentarily cut through your misery. You figured she would find you at some point, likely after the ceremony, but the fact that she was here now made something other than agony bubble in your chest.

Suddenly, you noticed that her lips were moving. She was saying something. You tried to focus your hearing against the chaos, but nothing could be heard over the erratic beating in your chest. Frustration mounted, making you further curl into yourself.

Wednesday moved a bit closer, stopping just short of you so she was the only thing in your line of sight. This time you were just able to catch the tail end of her statement. “-st look at me.”

You complied.

“Identify five things that you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud,” she instructed you, slowly and firmly.

You took in her words, but your eyes never strayed from her.

The first thing you saw was her eyes. So dark that they appear black in most settings, but under direct sunlight they reveal themselves to be the most beautiful shade of brown you’ve ever seen. Second was her hair, the way her wet fringe clumped together, forming short tendrils on her forehead.

Next, you were drawn to the starry sea of freckles on her cheeks. The temptation to try and count them tugged at you. You disregarded it, wanting to complete the task at hand for Wednesday.

Your eyes moved to trace her jaw, number four on your list. It was clenched, the way it always was when she was either angry or worried about something. You briefly wondered which one she felt now.

Her lips were the fifth and final feature you saw. You didn’t let yourself think about them for long, simply cataloged them.

Once you mentally documented all five, you looked to Wednesday, your breaths coming somewhat more consistently.

“Got it?” she asked, voice sounding a bit clearer now. You nodded. She continued. “Alright, now four things you can feel.”

You stiffly unclasped your hands and set them on the ground at your sides.

Surprisingly, the first thing you felt beneath your fingers was the solid frigidity of ice. In your panic, you must’ve partially frozen the alleyway around you. The warmth of the air around you told you that you hadn’t frozen too much, thankfully. You counted the temperature as your second.

Third, you felt the weight of your soaked clothes. The way they clung to your skin pulled a small grimace from you. That segwayed directly into the fourth thing you felt—your wet hair. Droplets of water were still running down the back of your neck from it, making you shiver. Lastly, you felt the rough, uneven texture of the brick wall at your back.

Moving up slightly, you turned back to Wednesday, who was watching you attentively, and gave her a firmer nod. The tension in your chest was beginning to dissipate.

“Three things you can hear.”

Your ears perked and you tried to focus on the noises around you. Even on its busiest days, Jericho was a relatively quiet little town, so it was easy to hear things you normally wouldn’t be able to in more densely populated places.

The first thing your ears picked up was the chime of a ringtone a block or two away. A pop song, the kind that Wednesday detested. Second was a loud giggle from someone that sounded suspiciously like Enid. The sound of it almost made you smile. And third, the clatter of a cup onto the ground and an angry curse that immediately followed it.

Someone must’ve dropped their coffee. Again, you almost smiled. Your heart began to slow in your chest, the ache there subsiding as well.

Eyes returning to the girl in front of you, you nodded.

“Two things you can smell.”

That was easy. Wednesday’s usual scent of old books and incense was present, mixed with traces of wet grass, a reminder of your earlier excursion. Another smell you could identify was the pungent odor of days-old garbage. Your nose scrunched. Of course, you chose an alleyway with a dumpster.

Your posture loosened, muscles relaxing as you sent Wednesday yet another nod.

“One thing you can taste.”

The metallic taste of blood on your tongue almost made you startle. Pain flared in your cheek, an answer to your question of where it came from. You weren’t sure when you bit it, and presently, you didn’t really care.

Swallowing harshly, you gave the girl before you a shaky thumbs up. The firm set of her jaw relaxed as she continued to observe you. You returned the favor, gently resting your chin on your knees as you watched her.

“Who was she?” she asked, tone softer than usual.

Not expecting the question, you blinked. “Hm?”

“The woman, who was she?”

You swallowed. This was never something you wanted Wednesday to know about, but you supposed she deserved some sort of explanation after helping you. 

“Former foster parent. Just one of the many people to hurt me over the years,” you admitted with a wry chuckle.

Wednesday didn’t laugh.

The faint sound of instruments caught your attention. It seemed that you were officially missing the unveiling.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?” you asked, remembering Weems’ comment about Wednesday’s cello earlier that day.

“The Jericho high school band doesn’t need me. You do. Weems will get over it.” She maneuvered herself to sit down next to you, bringing her knees up to mimic your pose. The space between you was virtually nonexistent, but she still wasn’t quite touching you, which you appreciated.

A few minutes passed in silence. The lingering effects of your panic began to fade, leaving behind an all-encompassing tiredness that nearly made you slump over. 

Beside you, Wednesday sat perfectly still, occasionally sending glances that you pretended not to notice for her sake.

The chill she emanated was too soothing for you to really care about it anyways. You resisted the urge to lean closer, to steal more of it for yourself. But you just further lowered your body temperature with your powers instead.

You rested your head back against the wall. Honestly, just being within such close proximity of Wednesday was nice. You swore you could stay sitting there all day with her if time allowed…

An explosion in the distance made you jump. Concerned, you turned to Wednesday who looked much too unsurprised for it to be a coincidence. Only now did you notice Thing’s conspicuous absence. Brows furrowing, you leaned forward. “Wednesday, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she replied easily, lips quirking at the screams of terror that arose from the town square. Promptly, she stood and tilted her head down at you. “Come on, we need to secure our seats at the back of the bus.”

A soft nod was all you could manage in response. Standing was more of a struggle than you anticipated, your exhaustion so heavy it felt as if it settled into your very bones and weighed your limbs down, but after a few attempts, you were on your feet.

The moment you gained a semblance of stability, Wednesday snagged your sleeve and tugged you out of the alley, her grip gentler than you’d expect as she guided you back to the bus. You didn’t miss the joyful spark in her eyes at the chaos unfolding around the town.

When you arrived at the bus, the door was wide open and your companion wasted no time hauling you both inside, immediately making a beeline for the back row. She stopped in front of the seats you occupied on the ride into Jericho, dropping your sleeve as she stepped aside for you to sit.

You gave her a tired smile, grateful that she was giving you the window this time, and collapsed onto the seat. Wednesday slipped in right after you, sitting noticeably closer this time. Close enough that her arm lightly rested against yours.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t dare point it out. You just rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

The slow arrival of other students and staff barely registered, your focus altering between the events of the hour prior, and the comfortingly cold weight of Wednesday’s arm pressing against yours.

The bus ride back to school passed by in a blur and you were being pulled off the bus by Wednesday before you even realized it had stopped.

In a similar fashion, Wednesday dragged you by the sleeve to your dorm, all but shoving you toward your closet once inside.

“Get changed and get some rest. I will return in a few hours after I deal with something,” she said, eyeing you as she edged back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, concerned that she would try to continue investigating by herself. Wednesday turned to you, and for a moment you were convinced she would tell you that “what she did was none of your concern” or just leave altogether without a word, but at the last second her demeanor shifted.

“It’s nothing to do with the monster. I won’t be putting myself in danger in any way, you have my word,” she assured you, tone firm. There was no room for argument, and if you were being honest, you were compelled to believe her anyway.

You nodded slowly. “Ok.”

She held your gaze for another second then turned and strode out the door. You stayed standing in your spot until her footsteps faded completely.

Fatigue weighed on you once more and that was enough motivation for you to quickly shower and change into dry clothes. You abandoned your discarded uniform in the bathroom to dry, halfheartedly trudging to your bed and flopping down on it.

Scattered thoughts littered your brain, taking you from one turbulent topic to the next. Crackstone, Wednesday’s vision, the monster, Mary—until Wednesday herself came up and instantly everything else was irrelevant.

You thought about the way she treated you today, how she helped you, how she touched you. It made you much happier than it ought to.

As your eyes slipped shut, you wondered about where she could be. You just hoped she was safe.

Finally, your exhaustion overtook you, thoughts of Wednesday sending you into a deep slumber.

-

Hours later, you were woken by a sharp knock on your door.

The harsh sound nearly sent you tumbling out of bed. You were half-tempted to not answer it, but Wednesday said she’d be back later and the last thing you wanted to do was keep her waiting.

So you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, smiling when you were met with Wednesday’s usual deadpan stare. She walked past you into your dorm, not bothering to wait for an invitation she knew you’d give her, and while you shut the door, you took the chance to look at her.

She appeared unharmed. Her uniform, now dry, was perfectly situated as always and not a single hair on her head was displaced. She looked as if she’d just returned from a peaceful walk through the woods, but something told you that was far from the truth.

Wednesday walked over to set her bag down on your desk, carefully slipping something out of it before turning to face you. She beckoned you over and you complied.

“I was told to give this to you.” She extended an envelope in your direction.

A brow raised as you took the envelope, inspecting it closely. You never got mail, so you were immediately suspicious, but it looked harmless enough. A simple, white envelope, entirely blank besides the small writing of your name on the back.

Curious, you ripped it open and to your surprise, it was a letter from Mary. The scrawl was messier than usual, almost panicked, but the handwriting was distinctly hers. You read through it slowly, your initial apprehension turning to disbelief.

The letter detailed all of her transgressions against you and how genuinely, unerringly apologetic she was for hurting you.

Under the body of text, her name was written in a red ink so dark, you’d think that it was blood… And there was a smudge of crimson at the bottom of the page. As if the ink had been crudely spilled onto the paper.

You knew you shouldn’t be finding enjoyment in this. Frankly, you should be terrified but the feeling that bloomed in your chest was the furthest thing from fear.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked, jaw set in determination. The look in her eyes told you that if you said no, she would go back to Mary and make her write another one. If she was still alive that is.

“Yes, it is,” you said, dumbfounded, “but you really didn’t need to do anything, Wednesday.”

“She deserved it,” she retorted, a touch of hostility in her tone. A beat. Then, “You said there were others. If you give me their names, I will hunt them down and seek retribution on your behalf.”

The declaration shouldn’t have made your cheeks warm, nor should the bloodthirsty look in her eyes, but it did. It was equal parts horrifying and charming—the perfect cocktail of emotions to get your heart racing.

Maybe Wednesday was starting to rub off on you more than you thought.

“That…won’t be necessary,” you said slowly. You knew you should just leave it; you really did. But you couldn’t help yourself. “How exactly did you find out where she was staying?”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on her lips, all traces of hostility replaced with blatant self-assuredness. “I have my ways.”

Her blatant cockiness pulled a laugh out of you, the first of the day in fact. You wondered if you were imagining the relief in Wednesday’s eyes at the sound. Turning back to the paper, you sobered a bit.

“Wednesday, seriously, thank you. This is more than most people have ever done for me,” you admitted. The ethics of whether you should be thanking her be damned, this was a touching gesture in your mind. Shameful or not, you were going to properly thank her.

The sudden emotional vulnerability seemed to catch her off guard, eyes widening slightly. But she caught herself quickly. Her eyes darkened a bit and her smirk softened, turning into something suspiciously akin to an actual smile. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Another wave of warmth rushed through you, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible on your cheeks. It struck you that this was the first time you’d ever seen a (possibly) genuine smile on her face. 

With that, the room lapsed into silence and like always, you let it sit between you.

She, too, let the quiet linger, holding your gaze with a confidence only she possessed. For just a moment, her eyes flicked downward, the movement so fast it was nearly imperceptible.

Nearly.

It was over just as quickly as it began and by the time you properly registered it, Wednesday was straightening up, dark eyes fixed on yours once more.

“Our investigation will resume tomorrow assuming there are no more unplanned interruptions. Meet me in my dorm after classes tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, still trying to figure out if what you saw was real or another possible figment of your imagination.

She headed for the door, and you panicked. You wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay for just one more moment. But nothing came to mind (nothing you had the courage to say, anyways).

Suddenly, she paused, turned to face you once more.

“Good night.”

You smiled. “Good night, Wednesday.”

A final nod and she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Again, you stayed there until the echo of her footsteps was no more. You looked down at the letter in your hand, pursing your lips. Reluctantly, you set it down on your desk. You would unpack all of your feelings regarding it later. Now, you had more pressing things to deal with.

For the second time, you flopped onto your bed, but this time, sleep was the last thing on your mind. In its place was the girl that chilled you with her presence mere minutes prior.

The smile on your face was immovable, as if it were permanently etched into your skin. You replayed the conversation over and over again in your head, highlighting the moments before she left.

You wondered, maybe pointlessly, if she could possibly like you back… Either way, you supposed it didn’t really matter now.

Even if she didn’t feel what you did, today’s ministrations proved that she at least cared for you on some level. That simple fact was enough to send you into a high unlike any other. 

The idea of her actually reciprocating your feelings only propelled you further, your giddiness threatening to swallow you whole as you lay in your bed.

You spent the remainder of your night in a quiet daze, your mind consumed with nothing but familiar obsidian eyes and an addictively deadly smirk.

[froggyfics]

How We Became Strangers

Prequel to Strangers

We used to be close.

Me likely angst :)

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Damian Wayne x gn!reader

Theme: Angst

Word Count: 3,410

“Can you talk some sense into him?”

“You’re the only one that can reason with him.”

“He listens to you the most, ya know?”

You used to think it was a compliment when people would recognize your impact on Damian. You were constantly commended for your efforts to tame the wild beast. It used to send a shiver down your spine that felt so good. 

But lately, those compliments made your stomach churn. You found yourself gritting your teeth, clenching your hands into a fist, curling your toes – anything to distract you from the pang within. 

As childish naivety slipped from your fingers, the blindfold you had on began to slip dangerously. These weren’t compliments. According to the dictionary, a compliment is defined as “a polite expression of praise or admiration”. 

Bruce wasn’t complimenting you when you convinced Damian not to pursue case leads by himself. He was simply tired of being the one to discipline his son over and over and over again.

Tim wasn’t complimenting you when you pried Damian off him, preventing an all-out brawl. He was just glad that the fight didn’t become serious enough to invoke a conversation with Bruce. 

And Alfred, sweet ol’ Alfred, wasn’t complimenting you when you persuaded Damian to join you for a nighttime excursion around town. He was worked to the bone, and only wanted one night to himself in the manor with minimal distractions. 

Their compliments were not compliments. They were transfers of responsibilities. Bless Damian - he was an honorable man, but stuck in his own ways, nonetheless. When you came around, Damian was poached onto you.

And you took that as a form of flattery. You thought it was because everyone understood that you and Damian were two peas in a pod, Bobbsey twins…friends. Best friends. So, it was natural for people to want to hand Damian over to you.

You were so utterly wrong. You simply had the best temperament and the most patience to deal with him. Nothing more, and nothing less. You were his unequivocal buffer to society. No one wanted to take accountability for his actions, so the task was transferred over to you.

“Oh no, he didn’t mean it like that,” you comforted Jason. “He’s just tired from patrol.”

“Please excuse his behavior. He’s had a bad day.” You slid the waitress a large cash tip.

“He does love you! He just has a funny way of showing it,” you said as you comfortingly patted his ex-girlfriend on the back. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. You made so many excuses for him. You were unsure when exactly you fell into this…unique role, but it had become exhausting. You were longer just Damian’s friend - you had become so much more. Too much more. There was not a single word that could encompass the responsibilities that fell upon you. You were his therapist, his lackey, his moral compass, his PR firm, his friend, his supporter, and ultimately, his enabler. 

There has no doubt been some extra tension between the two of you recently. You’ve had arguments before, but they used to be few and far between. Lately, your temper flares at a moment’s notice. Your patience runs thin like sand between your fingers. There’s something tickling the back of your throat. There’s something you’ve been meaning to say to Damian, even if it falls on deaf ears. 

But you can’t. You’re…scared. It pains you to realize it, but Damian is violent. Not with his fists like he is with criminals. No, not like that at all. He’s violent with his words. They leave invisible scars that are only visible to you. If Damian has taught you anything, it’s that you’re not a strong person. Your mental state is like wet paper, floating on by until it meets the slightest force to rip it into shreds. 

You want to say something to him. It’s masochistic to continue living like this. But it feels like barbed wire surrounds your throat every time you attempt to be brave enough to say anything. 

It’s just you two out here on the grassy hill. Lately, your mind is a haze of anxiety and self-doubt. But for some strange reason, the night sky brings you and your cognizance a calming synergy. You lay shoulder-to-shoulder, your hands snug underneath your head, facing towards the starry night. Your hand travels from behind your head, stretching upwards, as if you could touch the stars above. It’s peaceful out here. It’s finally a moment of calm between you and Damian, which is much needed after weeks of brewing tension. 

Damian’s talking about a fight he had with Tim. You can hear his garbled voice in your ear, but your ringing ears mask most of the conversation. 

“He said I needed therapy,” he scoffs. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Your head rips to the side. Damian copies your movement to return your gaze.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

You gulp nervously. “Need therapy. Do you…need therapy?”

“No,” he sneers. He lets out a taut chuckle. “I’m not crazy.”

You say absolutely nothing and continue to stargaze. You wonder what it would be like to be there – up there – and not down here. Not with Damian. Not even with yourself. Just…outside of it all. Outside of responsibilities. Outside of loyalties. 

You can sense Damian’s change in position. His once relaxed position is exchanged for a rigid, upright one. He’s still seated, but hovers over you. His eyes are sharply boring into your face. 

The alarm bells start to ring in your head. Panic arises from your stomach and burns into your esophagus. You did something wrong. You said something wrong. What did you do wrong this time?

“Do you think I need therapy?” 

Oh, no. Not this question. Anything, but this question. Has your mouth ever been this dry before?

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” you finally reply. Yeah, that’s a good response. Because it truly doesn’t matter what you think. Not to Damian, at least.

“Yes, it does,” he sharply corrects. 

“Damian, please, not tonight,” you groan. You mimic him by shifting your body into a seated position. “Let’s just relax.”

A few seconds pass before he replies. “I don’t need therapy,” he emphasizes.

Yes, you freaking do. But you don’t say that. At least not out loud. Your face on the other hand, reveals your innermost thoughts. 

He looks out into the distance. He wants to see anything, but your face.

“Damian, look,” you reach out to him, but he pulls back. The rejection leaves your hands burning, so you twiddle your fingers on your shirt instead. Your hands twist the cotton fabric, but despite his rebuff, you’d rather touch his scarred hands instead. “I’m not saying that you’re crazy. Alright? Going to therapy doesn’t mean that at all.”

“Might as well,” he interjects.

“No, Damian! Look, I love you. And because I love you, I have to say this. You asked what I thought earlier, and…” You trail off, unaware of how to finish the sentence. “I just think therapy would be good for you.”

“Damian,” you whisper as his silence greets you. You breathe in every molecule of air around you to gather the courage. “I’ve been going to therapy myself recently and it’s been help –“

“Therapy?” Damian whips his head towards you so quickly, an audible – POP! – resounds in the air from his neck joints. “Is everything alright with you?”

His concern with your wellbeing makes your beam internally. This is how Damian shows his love and affection. It’s short and simple, but oh, so sweet. It’s the little crumbs that he gave you that kept you coming back for more. 

“I’m fine, Damian.” You hold your hands to your chest for emphasis until you realize the dishonesty in your statement. Your hands drop into your lap. “Actually, I’m not. I’ve been dealing with some intense anxiety lately. Ya know, ‘catastrophizing’ or whatever my therapist calls it.”

Damian motions for you to continue. “I’m just really struggling.” Your voice quivers and you’re teetering on an emotional breakdown. “It’s honestly really hard. The panic attacks that I have sometimes…it feels like I’m dying in that moment.” A tear drops onto your hand, but you can’t even feel it. Your limbs are slowly turning numb, and your anxiety pushes outwards to become the center of your world. 

Damian’s voice chips at your withdrawal. He says your name and you ask him to repeat himself.

“What happened?” he grabs your hands tightly, protecting them from whatever forces that dare try to harm you. “Did something happen?”

You squeeze his hands to ground yourself. Talking about your mental health was new, even for you. But this is Damian, and if there is anyone you should talk to about it, it’s with him.

“I – I’m not sure,” you admit. “I can’t pinpoint where it all began. I just know that it’s this overwhelming feeling that I get. Like I can’t breathe.” You look up at Damian to stare into his mossy colored eyes. “My chest would burn, my stomach will twist into knots…my sleep schedule just goes out the window!”

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. What were you talking about? Therapy for Damian, right.

“All I’m saying is that it’s really helped me so far. With my anxiety. And I think it would help you, too. You have a lot of unresolved trauma from your childhood and even now. I mean, pummeling people’s heads in every night can’t be great for your mental health! Right?”

Damian yanks his hands away from yours in a fury. “I don’t need therapy.”

You smack your forehead with your hand. This is so typical. He’s so bullheaded that he refuses to be told what to do, even if it might be beneficial for him. 

“I’m not your mother, but –“

“You sure as hell aren’t,” he mutters under his breath.

“ – I can’t continue like this with you. You’re always looking for a fight or an argument. Why can’t you accept that you need help?”

“I don’t need help!” His tone becomes increasingly more strained. 

“Yes, you do! Everyone needs help, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not you.” He stands up and pats his body down to rid himself of dirt and grass. “I don’t need to run to my little therapist after my order comes out wrong at a restaurant or – or – or when my boss doesn’t let me leave five minutes early. I can handle myself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You stand yourself and puff your chest out. Your primal instinct to fight, flight, or freeze clearly chooses fight. You’re unsure why, as Damian could easily break you.

“You heard me.” He looks up and down in disdain.

It was as if someone poured ice cold water on you. The chill of your anger froze every inch of your body. You couldn’t shiver even if you wanted to. 

“You’re being mean, Damian,” you grit. Your teeth grind together, barely opening your mouth to speak to him. 

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’re just being too sensitive. I hope you and your therapist talk about me the next time you go.”

“You’re insufferable.” The nerve signals from your brain begin firing again. You move way too quickly, grabbing your personal items off the ground and walking away. Your head spins at just how fast you’re going, but you can’t bare to spend another second in his presence. 

You make it a few steps away before a hand grabs your upper arm. You spin to face Damian, again, so quickly that your world seems out of focus until you concentrate on his green eyes.

“Stop. Let’s just forget about all this.”

You violently shake your head. It’s too much. He’s too much. “No, Damian. Absolutely not. I have been belittled, disrespected, and humiliated by you for far too long.” You point an accusatory finger at him and step forward until it indents his shirt. 

He faintly calls your name, but you’re too far gone. Years of resentment has infected you until the pus could no longer be contained by your body. It oozes out as you look at him with fiery eyes and speak to him with a sharp tongue.

“You treat me like garbage when all I’ve ever done is love you!”

“I love you, too,” he insists, stepping towards you, driving your fingernail through his shirt and practically into his skin.

“I know you love me! Trust me, I know you do. Which is why it hurts even more. How can you love me and still hurt me like this? Why is this so easy for you?”

He pouts like a child, and if this was any other moment, you would comment on how cute he looked. This would be despite his insistence that he cannot be cute and instead should be referred to as “handsome”.

“I don’t know where all this is coming from,” he inquiries. “We were fine just ten minutes ago.”

“We haven’t been fine in a long, long time,” you seethe. “The way you speak to me…it’s just unbelievable. Everything I do or say is criticized. I can never be right about anything. It hurts to even be around you sometimes. It hurts to even breathe.”

You’re definitely crying. You can feel the tears pouring down your face, but your voice has never been so steady. The pang in your heart is so evident that you can practically feel it bleeding out.

Your chest heaves due to your incensed speech. This was a first. Sure, you’ve had fights with him before, but never like this. Your own anger surprised you. The feelings that swirled inside you were unfamiliar – was that hatred you felt? You weren’t sure if the hatred was directed to Damian or to yourself. Perhaps both. 

He reaches out to you. His arms are ready to engulf you and save you from yourself. But this time, you know better. You can see the mirage in front of you. 

“You need help,” you reiterate. “I can’t hold your hand any longer.”

His rescinds his arms quickly and throws his arms in the air dramatically. You scoff at his theatrical display. Damian has been known for his stoicism, but you knew he was quite melodramatic at his core. “You know what? Fine!”

“Fine!” you bite back.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fin – you know what.” He paces back and forth with his hands on his hips. “I don’t need this.” He throws his hand up to silence you when you attempt to reply. “And I don’t need you.”

For a moment, you think a thunderstorm has rolled around, but you soon realize that the booming sound is coming from your own head in the form of a headache. The energy is zapped out of you suddenly and you can feel your genuine tiredness start to creep in. 

I don’t need you. 

His voice echoes in your head. You dryly laugh at his proclamation. “You don’t need me? Ha, nice joke. Real good one, Damian. You sure sounded like you needed me at that gala your dad dragged you to. The one where you begged me stay so that you could have company the entire night.”

Damian turns around with a shake of his head, but you’re not done with him. “What about when there’s nothing to do on patrol and you call me ‘cuz you’re bored? Huh?” You step around to face him again. 

It’s ironic that for someone who faced supervillains and low-life criminals every night, Damian sure was intimidated by your confrontation. 

“Ooh, how about when you cried in my arms when you saw Tim nearly bleed to death? Hmm? You sure looked like you needed me then.” 

There was no escaping your cutthroat stare and your steely words. Every word you spoke felt like a ton of bricks dropped off your shoulder to make room for your confidence. 

“So, tell me again, Damian. Look me in my eyes and tell me that you don’t need me.”

You’re somewhat shocked when he complies. He looks at you with the sweetest doe-eyes you’ve ever see. You don’t think you’ve ever been more intimately connected to him than in that moment. Despite the tension and the fury and the sadness of it all, you see him. 

Damian Wayne: the son of two dueling personalities, balancing two difference legacies on his shoulders. The only Robin who still hasn’t figured out how to escape the Robin persona. If that’s even what he wants to do. The boy who has so many role models to look up to – Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, yes, even Tim, Stephanie, Cassandra – but can’t see the good in himself like he sees in others. The child who can’t seem to break through the glass ceiling that he installed for himself in an attempt to surpass the superheroes that came before him. He’s sensitive and insecure in the most intense ways possible. He's human, despite his attempts to turn off his humanity. 

And in a flash, the mask pulls up again. His emotions are replaced with an indifferent expression. The Damian that the rest of the world sees comes alive in that moment. It terrifies you at just how quickly he could put up a front. You used to think he had only one another persona – Robin, but watching him now, you see that he had more than one. There was Damian, and then there was the Damian that the world had become accustomed to.

He opens his mouth and his lips curl upwards mockingly. “I…” 

Oh, no. You were in for it now.

“Don’t…”

Please don’t, you pleaded. You were silent, but you were hoping that your eyes would express everything for you. 

“Need…”

Your eyes widen exponentially. You were simply challenging Damian, kind of how an amateur athlete defies an experienced one. It was just for the experience, but now, you were about to be humbled. 

“You.”

The stars bear witness to his cruelty. If they were living creatures, they’d probably shed a tear for you. But unluckily for you, there was no one to share your hurt and disappointment with. Unfortunately, that was all reserved for you. 

Well, I need you, you wanted to say. You wanted to scream it at him! I can’t live without you, you wanted to declare.

Although - it was getting kind of late. You just didn’t have it in you to continue the conversation. Your eyelids drooped dangerously low in exhaustion. Fighting with Damian was a subscription that you wanted to cancel, but could only be done in the messiest way possible.

You hold your hands up in defeat. If you had a white flag, you’d have waved it prominently. He didn’t try to stop you this time when you drifted away. You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to, but it still hurt, nonetheless. 

You can’t even remember how you made it home before stumbling into your room. Your bedtime routine was ignored for the comfort of your bed. 

Who are you without this man? Who are you without all this hurt? What was Damian to you now? You were unsure of how to answer these questions, but for now, you chose to close your eyes to escape your reality. 

Your body begins to float as it drifts deeper into sleep, dreaming of a familiar stranger with dark black hair and enchanting green eyes. You couldn't escape his grasp on you, even if you tried.

[kiyomitakada]

many of my friends from other spaces (who were around for the actual death note mania back in the 2000s unlike me, a Youngster) have criticized death note for not going hard enough on the fact that the stuff light is doing wouldn't work. in manga canon the existence of kira has somehow stopped all the wars on the planet and the crime rate has dropped steeply when realistically that wouldn't. happen. at all. and i agree with them, i think this is part of why death note objectively really sucks

i do think it is interesting that death note chooses regardless to paint light as doing an unequivocally bad thing. hang on there's a better-phrased post like this let me go find it HERE. read that first

okay welcome back. death note says, if you killed someone and it genuinely decreased the amount of harm that spreads in the world (a question that obviously disregards the grief that person's relatives would have, the opportunity of rehabilitating them, the impossibility of knowing for sure that this would actually improve the world — just. death note does not deal with those things even though i think it should), that would still be a bad thing.

and like, i agree. but i think that death note and i don't agree on the why. most death note fans i've seen could write whole novels on how punitive justice doesn't work and disproportionally affects marginalized communities and so on and so forth; death note sort of just shrugs and says, murder is bad. which it is! but god that's a weak justification i can see why some of its fans started writing quora essays like "actually light was right the whole time and should have killed more people"

…actually you know what, here's what death note is doing: it is taking a magnifying glass to the justice system but only to the perpetrators. death note is a really good treatise on how power corrupts everyone, even when you think you'd do the right thing. (death note to me is a thinly veiled metaphor pro-gun control/anti-death penalty but that's a different post.) "whoever picks up this note will only ever lead a life of misery" "the true evil is the power to kill" "misa, i'm sorry, i should never have given you the notebook" etc etc etc. death note is screaming that having the power to kill will destroy you.

what death note is not good at is actually examining the effects of that power over the world at large. it just sort of says, i mean, murder is always bad innit. L and near and mello aren't trying to catch light because they truly believe kira is Wrong, they're just after him because what else are they supposed to do. you're just another murderer, near says. and the world goes back to status quo. and the police continue to rule the world in place of kira. and i mean sure the police have less power than Magical Killing Notebook but man. death note is so close to saying "tear down the existing justice system too" and never gets there and sometimes i want to strangle it.

[squints at post] is this even anything