#this is me seeing other people start talking about fics in past tense if they havent updated in a little while

[ninjasmudge]

people really will say shit like 'the fic i found hasn't updated in a whole month so i think its been abandoned which is a shame, i wanted to read more' like where do you even get the nerve

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

--

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

--

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

--

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

--

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

--

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

--

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh.  while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

[hey-kae]

Driving Lessons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Request: Your content has been keeping me FED!!! Ok I am back with another request possibly if you felt inspired because your writing is just so good!!!!! Maybe a fic with Charles where he teaches you to drive a manual car? Like let’s you learn on his Ferrari maybe? Could turn smutty or just stay cute fluff :)

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, quickie in the car mainly (ended up including smut cause it’s been a while)

Sidenote: Happy race weekend! (Hopefully🥲) Finishing this while watching FP2 felt like a peak f1 fan moment. I’m really sorry this took so long but the few past days were rather messy. Next requests will be up faster i think.

It had all started a bit over a month ago when Charles had asked you if you wanted to try driving a Ferrari, only to receive an embarrassed «I don't know how to drive manual cars" as a mumbled answer from you.

Charles, who was basically required to have that knowledge due to his career, seemed to forget that most people didn't know how to operate a stick-shift vehicle. Something in him made him want to teach you so he didn’t hesitate to make the proposal.

"Chérie, most Ferraris aren't even manual but that is not the point. I want to teach you how to drive a manual, if you want to obviously.” He had replied. Fast forward a few days, you had ended up together in a manual car in an empty parking lot with you panicking in the driver's seat and Charles watching you with ultimate entertainment from the passenger one.

Needless to say, that first teaching session ended

miserably with zero progress being made. The two of you were highly impatient what had inevitably led to some bickering before Charles drove the two of you back home in tense silence that had stuck around until you both caved in and apologized later at night, not being able to withstand many hours without talking to each other.

The second teaching attempt was currently in progress.

“Fuck! Fuck, I can’t do it.” Your shaking hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip as you panicked and felt your heart racing.

Charles, who was sat in the seat beside you, was staring at you with undiluted amusement, the smallest smile ghosting over his lips as he watched how nervous you were.

“Baby, start the car first.” He chuckled, his hand reaching over to squeeze your tensed ones as they remained fisted around the steering wheel, “And, relax.”

“But, you said i have to step on I don’t know what pedals before starting the car. Why is this so complicated?!” Your eyes kept scanning the empty parking lot for any threat as your anxiety levels rose the more you thought about being the one controlling the car.

“Yes, step down on the clutch and turn it on. That is easy, I promise. You did that just fine last time.” He shot you a reassuring smile that did nothing to reassure you.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your feet, moving your left one to step over the clutch pedal.

“Mon amour, you can’t look down every time you have to have to step on a pedal. You’ll crash.”

“Shut up, Charles. Why the fuck did i agree to this?” You snapped at him as you turned the engine on, hearing it hum to life.

“See? That was easy. Now, put it into first gear.” He asked, testing if you remembered how to do that from last time but doubting that you would given your reaction to his words.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a fidgety manner, you attempted to concentrate and recall Charles’ instructions from last time. You looked down at the gear stick, trying to remember which direction you needed to move it in.

“Right…” you trailed off, “bottom right?” You grimaced, knowing that it was most likely the wrong direction.

Sighing, Charles shook his head no.

“Non, chérie. Top left.”

Groaning in frustration, you moved the stick as instructed and turned to look at him, feigning annoyance.

“Now what?”

“Hand break off.” You did that as he spoke, “Step on the gas and get the RPM to around 1500, then slowly -and i mean slowly- lift your foot off the clutch.”

You nodded, mainly to encourage yourself and hesitantly followed Charles’ instructions, trying to ignore the fact that his hand replaced yours on the hand break as soon as you put it down as a precaution.

When the number in front of you reached the desired mark, you lifted your foot off the clutch pedal a bit too quick and the car jerked forward.

“Doucement, mon amour!” Slowly, my love.

“Alright, alright!” You said, much too distracted by the fact that the car was actually moving and you were driving it to care for Charles’ reaction.

Following that, everything seemed to fall into place. Charles taught you when to change gears and how to do it. That caused some slight issues since you kept getting confused on which direction you were supposed to move the gear shift in but Charles, in an usual display of patience, kept showing you what to do, giving you soft praises when you’d finally get it right, sometimes taking your hand in his and softly kissing your knuckles.

“Look at you, you’re doing so good!” He giddily smiled when you shifted from gear 2 to gear 3 without his help. An equally big smile had taken over your face as you moved the car slowly but surely around the parking lot. It felt like an accomplishment, maybe a small one but an accomplishment nonetheless.

“Next step has to be a Formula 1 car.” Charles joked, keeping his face straight to see if he’d get a reaction out of you.

You briefly glimpsed at him in disbelief, hoping that he was joking.

“Fuck, no. That is where i draw the line.” You replied with determination, shaking your head, making it clear that you refused the offer.

Charles laughed at your tone, the sound making you smile as his dimples showed and his laughter rung through the car. You loved hearing him laugh, it gave you butterflies and eased all the worries you could ever have.

“I love you.” The words naturally slipped out of your mouth as a reaction to his laughter.

“I love you too, and i’m so proud of you.” He said back, still watching every move you made to ensure you were doing everything right.

“I literally only drove a car around a parking lot.”

Charles shrugged, “I love seeing you do things that scare you no matter how much you are scared of them. C'est l'une des raisons pour lesquelles je t'aime tant.” It’s one of the reasons i love you so much.

His words made you heart dance so you slightly turned to face him, a smitten smile taking over your face as you took in his expression and the way he was looking at you so lovingly.

He was distracting, sitting there with his half buttoned shirt and slightly messy hair. A bit too distracting considering the fact that you were behind the wheel, in charge of the vehicle carrying the both of you at the moment.

“Eh, regarde devant toi, chérie.” Hey, look in front of you, darling. Charles’ tone quickly turned back serious as he noticed you nearing a curb. He reached over and turned the steering wheel himself, ending the moment quite effectively but for a highly reasonable reason.

“Oh, yeah.” You continued turning the car in the opposite direction, still feeling his gaze all over you as you took the vehicle for yet another turn around the empty space.

“I could watch you drive for hours, mon amour.” He said, now a bit more relaxed in his seat since you seemed to have memorized the basics.

“Trust me, i feel the same way. You look so hot when you’re driving and it’s just-“ you realized you were going down the road headed straight towards rambling so you rephrased, “But, yeah… You watching me drive for hours is never gonna happen ‘cause I, in fact, won’t be driving you around for hours, monsieur pilote professionel de course.” Mr. professional racing driver.

Charles laughed at your statement, blushing slightly at the compliment you had slipped there.

“Don’t worry, i like being the one driving. This is so stressful, mon amour.” He chuckled.

“Do you want to try driving on the road?” He asked after few seconds of silence, “There isn’t a lot of traffic today.”

You hummed as you considered your options. You could get on the road and completely nail it or you could get on the road and crash into something. Or worse, someone.

“Let’s say i try driving on the road and it goes - how do i say it - badly, to phrase it lightly. Would it be all over social media within a few minutes?” You asked with a grimace.

“I think so, yeah… You want to try?” He smirked.

“I say let’s save the international embarrassment for next time.” You cringed at the thought of having multiple people discussing a mistake you made.

“I think you should try. You will not crash, i’m sure. I think.” His eyes were already watching the cars speeding by outside the parking lot.

“But, Charles-“ you began protesting but was quickly cut off.

“I’ll be right there with you, love.” He squeezed your thigh comfortingly, “If you feel like you don’t want to do it anymore, we’ll just park on the side and switch seats.”

This could go so wrong or so right. There was technically barely any middle ground.

“I feel like i’m gonna regret this but ok.” You complained, heading hesitantly and slowly for the exit.

“Check both sides.” Charles instructed, leaning over himself to check for incoming cars.

“I know, i kinda have to do this in automatic too.” You sarcastically spoke, reaching over and pushing him back so you could see the other side of the road.

Despite his unwavering hatred for being in the passenger seat, he was finding this experience highly entertaining.

Once you deemed it safe, you joined the ongoing traffic, blending in with the surrounding cars fast enough. Luckily, this was a skill you had acquired a long time ago when you first learned how to drive an automatic.

“Safe rejoin?” You teasingly asked.

“An okay one, i think.” Charles grinned at you.

Out on the road, you drove well enough for your first time, only making minimal mistakes. Even Charles had admitted to you that this was going better than he had expected. It was all nearly perfect until you reached a busier road with an intersection taunting you from a bit down the street.

You found yourself panicking and continuously checking the mirrors even when you didn’t need to do that.

“Tell me what’s wrong, mon amour.” Charles immediately took notice of your change of demeanor.

“Fuck, there’s an intersection, what do i do? This is stressful.” You rushed the words.

“Hey, relax. I’m right here. Do you want me to drive?”

You nodded, thankful that he asked.

“Park there.” He pointed to yet another parking lot off the street and you did that gladly, following his instructions on how to properly stop the car. Once the vehicle was parked, you huffed out a breath of relief and slagged in the seat.

“I’m not doing that ever again.” You said just as Charles spoke as well, “You did so good.”

He chuckled at the difference of spirits before softly calling your name.

“Je pense vraiment que tu as bien conduit pour une débutante.” I really do think you drove well for a beginner. He reassured, his hand grazing your thigh as if to confirm his words.

“That’s a polite way to say you sucked, better luck next time.” You mocked, turning in your seat to face him, letting him see your accusatory looks.

“I promise you, it is not.” He laughed, taking your hand in his and caressing your skin softly.

“For the sake of my ego, I’m choosing to believe you.” You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, feeling his soft lips against yours as your hand cupped his face.

“We didn’t fight this time.” You pulled away to point out, your eyes studying how Charles’ skin seemed to glow as golden hour neared it’s ending, the dark threatening to take over in a few minutes.

“Thankfully.” He beamed and gave you a peck, “Je pense que ça a quelque chose à faire avec comme c'était seduisant de te voire conduire comme ça.” I think it has something to do with how attractive it was to see you drive like that.

You blushed and looked away, watching the sky darken through the windshield window.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was significantly impressive, unless you like seeing me nervous. We did have to stop after all.” You argued, feeling Charles fingers wrap around your forearm, wanting you closer to him.

“Trust me, it was still hot.” He helped you over the center console, guiding you to straddle his lap as he mentally thanked god for how obscure this parking lot seemed to be, fenced by tall trees that shadowed it.

His hand immediately grabbed onto your waist, guiding you to sit on his lap rather than hover over him.

“It was this hot, ma chérie.” Charles pushed up his hips, letting you feel how hard he already was.

“Oh.” You barely said, feeling yourself getting wet from just that slight friction.

“Yes, oh.” Charles giggled before bringing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that held as much lust as it held love, his tongue clashing against yours in a hungry manner.

“I need you, mon amour.” You felt the vibrations of his words against your lips.

“Yours to take, Charles. Always.” The words and your hands traveling down to palm him made him groan and pull away from the kiss as he felt you undo his pants and wrap you hand around his cock, feeling just how hard this had made him.

“Fuck, baby. We could’ve stopped earlier.” You said, moving your hand to push down your own pants and underwear, leaving them to lay on the car floor.

Charles didn’t say anything back. He just pulled you closer and began kissing your neck, mumbling for you to “just do something”.

Having suddenly become just as needy, you did what he asked you to. Your hand wrapped around his cock and you guided him to your entrance, sinking down on him, feeling him stretch you out and poke at your deepest spots.

“Oh god… Charles.” You whimpered, resting your forehead against his shoulder so you’d give your body a minute to adjust.

“Right here with you, love.” He rubbed your back, feeling you clench around him.

Once you had adjusted to the feeling of being so full, you started moving, bouncing on his dick slowly and watching his reaction to the movements. His lips parted as his head fell back against the headrest, his eyes closing as he took in how good you felt around him.

Car sex wasn’t a common reoccurrence for you and Charles since he seemed to always get filmed while simply just driving around so the unfamiliarity of this made it much more pleasurable, especially since the lack of surrounding space forced your bodies closer than ever.

You leaned closer until your chest was flush against his and kissed his jaw, moving a bit faster once you felt his grip on your waist tighten.

Having regained a bit of self control back, Charles bucked his hips, pushing deeper into your wet pussy.

You moaned as you felt him so deep.

“Oh, fuck. Charles…” You breathlessly squealed, having lost authority over your voice.

“Je sais, chérie. Feels so good, doesn’t it?” He kissed you, muffling the whimper you had used as a reply and pushing you backwards so that your back touched the dashboard.

The kiss turned sloppy as you felt his hand travel down your body, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach as he thrust his hips into you.

“Is this okay?” He asked, feeling the movements of his cock inside you against his palm.

“Shit, it feels…so good. Fuck.” He felt you squeeze him, affirming your claim.

You pushed him back and took charge of the pace once again, moving faster against him, making him moan as he continued moving his body in sync with yours.

You were already feeling your orgasm build up and judging by the sounds Charles was making, he was feeling the same.

“I’m not gonna last long.” You warned, already feeling yourself clenching around his cock.

“Me too, don’t worry.” He said, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit, increasing the stimulation.

That made you moved faster, eager for a release as you felt yourself getting closer until your movements became sloppy and you finally let go. You came, moaning Charles’ name breathlessly.

Knowing you needed time to recover, he took the lead, using his hands to steady your body as he thrust his hips up repeatedly. A few pushes was all it took for him to release his cum into you, exhaling in relief as he did so.

Charles hugged you close as the two of you sat still to catch your breaths, whispering small sweet remarks to you, telling you how much he loves you.

“This is way better than arguing, mon amour.” He smiled, combing his fingers through your hair as he smiled.

“Yeah, I actually like the way this lesson ended.” You chuckled into the embrace, feeling Charles’ lips kiss your temples.

“Then, i have to find a way to convince you to drive a manual again.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No need. If you promise that every lesson will end like this, i’ll drag you out of the house to go driving everyday.” You chuckled, kissing him briefly.

“Vraiment?” Really? He teased, lifting your body up a little to pull out, “How about we go back home and i fuck you again?” His eyes staring into yours were challenging you as if you’d ever say no to that.

“Ça sera parfait.” That would be perfect. “Hurry up and get driving.” You said, leaving a few open mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard again.” He fiddled with his pants, buttoning them and getting out of the car to get in the driver’s seat, leaving you in the passenger seat, pulling your underwear and your pants back on and chuckling to yourself as you watched how he was rushing to get the car going.

It was then that you decided that maybe learning how to drive a manual car wasn’t so bad after all.

[fandoms-in-law]

Trees Bend

Summary: Steve figures out he's bisexual and starts using a metaphor to counter people when they call him the straightest.

Author's note: I was in a Christian puppet group as a teen and in one of the sketches I had to practise puppetry to, the tree metaphor was used for a guy who wouldn't go to church if his pew was taken. After reading all the fics where spaghetti is used as a metaphor I thought the tree one fitted here too so I wrote it.

/\/\

It started with Robin, except it really didn't. Steve knew that she would listen, understand and believe him about the thoughts and feelings going through his brain. That was exactly what happened when he shared that he was fairly sure he had a crush on Eddie, that he'd probably had crushes he'd suppressed in the past.

She'd hugged him and asked if he wanted help working through it, or to just ramble about his crush. Between them they started to try and find out if there was a label for being attracted to both men and women. The discovery of bisexuality as a term took a long time to find for the pair of them, but a welcome find.

…

The actual start of it all was Dustin. The brat was somehow still convinced that Steve and Eddie didn't get along and needed to spend time around each other to do so.

Steve wasn't against the idea, actually he was going along with almost all of the kids ideas to get them talking and spending time together. He'd agreed to have Hellfire move to his house so Eddie could remain part of it and the rest of them could hang out at the same time even.

“I just don't get why you don't like Eddie.” Dustin began almost as soon as he was in the car for a lift to the arcade this time. “You and Robin have said you're trauma bonded often enough so why isn't that working here.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I do like Eddie, probably more than you want, and the fact you refuse to see that is getting annoying now.”

“Is it because he's gay? Is that why you don't like him?” Of course Dustin didn't listen to his words, but that wasn't why Steve abruptly pulled over.

After parking he twisted in his seat expression serious, “Did Eddie tell you that and did he give you permission to tell me that?”

“Why would he need to-” It was clear Dustin was floundering with his response.

“Is Eddie meeting you at the arcade?” Steve carried on, leaving explaining for a moment.

Dusting nodded slowly, and Steve turned to start the car again. “You are shutting up now. When we get there, you, Eddie and I are going to find somewhere quiet, or possibly just get straight back in the car and discuss just how badly you talking like that could go.”

For a few moments it looked like Dustin was going to argue but couldn't find the words, then he settled to staring at Steve and then back at him. It would have been a peaceful drive if he wasn't imagining a hundred reactions Eddie could have to being outed by Dustin and hoping he wouldn't be too upset by it.

Eddie was already outside the arcade when Steve got there, waiting with the other kids and clearly looking for them. The grin he had when coming to greet them dropped quickly at Steve's stern expression and Dustin's confused one. “Hey guys, took you a while.”

“Tell the other boys to go start playing. Dustin needs to apologise to you or have it explained to him why he needs to before we're going in.” Steve smiled but it was still tense, and he nodded towards the other kids, one hand going to Dustin's wrist when he tried to head out.

The words got Eddie yelling over his shoulder still trying to figure out what was happening and deciding to climb in the back of the Beamer when he realised how ready Dustin was to run off with his friends away from whatever had happened. “So that sounds ominous. What's up?”

“This shithead is still set that we don't like each other and was rambling trying to figure out why on the drive.” Steve gestured when Dustin remained silent for once.

“And he's gone insane. All I asked was if he doesn't like you because you're gay.” Dustin chose that point to exclaim, getting two frowns directed at him.

Steve nodded though. “That. That is not your place to share with anyone. Eddie has not told me that himself, and given you had no clue why I'd ask if he gave you permission to share it, he hasn't. You Do Not share anyone's sexuality with anybody else, unless they have given explicit permission to. I don't care that I'm safe. I don't care if you think you can tell who's safe and who's trustworthy. You do not share that information for other people.” He lectured, arms crossed to stop from pointing or getting in Dustin's face to emphasis.

“Geez Kid, I told that to Hellfire because Wheeler was being a shithead about some NPC's. For a bunch of little genius's if you're gonna out me for no reason I'll go hang with Jason to see how long I survive.” Eddie groaned. “Everything Steve just said. Don't out me to anyone, don't out anybody to anyone else unless they've told you to.”

“Another secret to keep? Why the fuck does everything need to be a secret?” Dustin tried to argue. “I want to talk with my friends about them sometimes.”

Steve levelled a glare at him. “And that should not include information that could easily get them killed. It's easy to not mention someone's sexuality. We do it every fucking day. You need to apologise for it and never do it again.”

“Sorry, I guess. I just thought it was why you two don't get along cause You suspected and are like the straightest of the straights.” Dustin grumbled, barely even turning to look at Eddie when he wanted to keep arguing the point.

Steve huffed a little but decided against openly saying anything about it. “Definitely not the non-existent reason Eddie and I don't get along. I like Eddie. He's my friend just like you are and deserves a better apology than that.”

“And seeing Mom Steve defensive for me does not qualify as that apology. It's just very flattering and I'm so grateful this was your response to Mr Thoughtless's words.” Eddie grinned, softening Steve's expression with how relaxed he was being over it.

Dustin looked between them, frowning before letting out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry alright. I didn't realise it was such a big thing to do. I won't do it again.”

Steve looked back at Eddie, waiting until he nodded, accepting the apology with a “Your PC will die if you do it again.”

“Let's go see Max destroy you all at video games then.” he agreed, unsurprised when Dustin was immediately out of the car and racing into the arcade.

“Thanks for doing that, Steve. I really wasn't sure if you'd accept me coming out.” Eddie lingered, speaking quietly so people passing didn't hear.

Steve just shrugged, locking his car and heading into the arcade, “Course man, I'd hate it if that happened to me.”

“Wait what?”

He smirked over his shoulder, glancing over the trees that lined the street. “I've decided to take a few lessons from the trees. I bet that one bends and waves when storms come in.” He stated before disappearing through the doors. It had been one of the things that he and Robin had tried using to describe who he's attracted to and he liked it more than spaghetti. Trees are strong and stood tall, even a toddler could break uncooked spaghetti into pieces.

…

It happened again during a Hellfire night a few weeks later and honestly Steve wasn't annoyed by it.

He'd been absently listening to the game, treating it like a story with actors except he could hear the thoughts of the people writing it. At the point they'd reached there had been a discussion going on about how to get information from a guard they'd yet to annoy and Gareth had suggested flirting with him.

“No, man, no. I get that you think you'll be able to get all the information that way but just look at him – he's... Actually Eddie other than in the kingdom's armour what does this guy look like?” Jeff had protested, making a few of them grin at his argument against Gareth's plan being interrupted to ask for description.

Eddie smirked, but sat up to begin narrating, “Currently the guard is watching you huddle away from him in bemusement, an eyebrow arched in curiosity over what you're doing. His hair is carefully styled away from his face with his helmet held under one arm. He's got piercing brown eyes and a clear tan on his face and hands.”

“You're making our strategising take time in the game, dude.” Mike groaned, “No fair.”

“Besides that makes my point. This guard sounds like if Harrington was a guard and couldn't have his fluffy hair. He's not going to go for your flirting Gareth.” Jeff insisted, turning along with most of the table when Steve snickered.

Steve just gestured out the window. “I'm like a tree out there. Pretty bendable if necessary and I choose what's necessary.”

“That makes no sense!” A few of the kids exclaimed but Gareth and Eddie both had considering looks on their faces.

A moment later Gareth's decision was made as he reached out for a die. “I want to flirt with the guard to ask if he knows whether the treasure we want is owned by the kingdom.”

“Roll charisma.” Eddie agreed, over the top of Jeff's repeated protests.

…

The final time Steve confused everyone with his tree metaphor was a film night and he didn't need to say it to be the one confusing them all.

He'd made a comment about Luke's boots and started a conversation or rather a debate among the kids over whether you could assume someone's sexuality based on what they wear. It was quite amusing to see, especially when Eddie decided to try fanning the flames with contradictory comments the kids could have known which were meant and which weren't if they'd only watched his expression. Some he grinned as he said them, others were said through a smirk one twitch away from becoming a grimace but all of them had someone arguing with them.

Nancy was the one to eventually get annoyed with the debate after it was around twenty minutes long. “Come on guys, you're slowly deciding that any guy wearing fancy clothes or who puts time into his looks must be gay and that entirely ignores the evidence that is Steve sitting right there, straighter than anyone.”

Robin, Steve and Eddie all snickered at that, even more so when Dustin piped up, “Can't say that Nancy. He'll compare himself to a tree again and refuse to explain more.”

“Now now, Dusty-bun, tree metaphors can be very enlightening if you only pay attention to how they're described.” Eddie leaned over putting on a voice as if he were disclosing sage advice.

“He just stays the trees are straight too but bendable in the weather. It's nonsense.” Mike protested.

Steve shrugged when Nancy and Jonathan turned to look at him. “So you are bendable? What are you subtly trying to say you are?” Jonathan asked, eyes narrowed as if already anticipating the answer.

“That I'm not as straight as you all keep insisting I am? I'm bisexual, attracted to both, and kind of getting bored of everyone calling me the straightest of the straights.” He explained easily, leaning back between Eddie and Robin on the sofa.

Most of them nodded then, before Dustin exclaimed, “But why trees? Seriously? So many other things could be used for that but you keep going on about trees? Are you a gardener without telling us?”

“One, why would I tell you about gardening if that was my hobby? You only ever want to talk about your game and I've had you try to give me a character type enough time that I don't need new ones considering any hobbies I might not have shared with you? Two, Trees are strong. They're so strong that we make houses, furniture, a whole host of things from them, and while everyone thinks they're completely still they move a heck of a lot, not just with the wind but in growth and with the seasons. Course I want to be a tree, I'm like the strength of the group trying to fight the battles head on so you guys can do something smart to actually defeat the monsters while they're distracted. It fits.” Steve rambled now, enjoying giving in more to the way he found easiest to identify as if uncertain how accepting people would be.

“Plus I really want to climb you like a tree. So it even works there.” Eddie quipped, getting groans from the kids but a curious smile from Steve.

Before Steve could reply Robin's hand was over his mouth. “Thanks for that image, Eddie, how about you put a pin in that to talk about when you and Steve are alone and not in front of the kids or me.”

Eddie grinned then, nodding, “Sounds good to me. When are we sneaking off together, Stevie?”

“We could now.” Steve offered, shifting to stand before Robin pulled him back down.

“After the film is over and we're heading home.” Nancy stated to pouts from both men.

When they disappeared under the guise of getting more snacks and drinks 10 minutes later she just sighed.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 27🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, SMUT, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Thank you for your patience! This part has a lot to uncover so get ready! Lots of new back story of Alexander and Iris and new discoveries have been made that you're not going to like...🫣Thanks for continuing to be so enthusiastic about this story!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

The air felt tense like everyone in here was holding their breath as you and Elvis walked in the room. Elvis tells Jerry to wait outside and he gladly obliges. Iris and Alexander sit next to each other on the long couch and you go to take a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Elvis doesn’t sit down, he stands right beside you and places his hand on your shoulder to try to calm you. You couldn’t completely relax though. You were too anxious to see what these people had to say or if they were even telling the truth. 

You look at them expectantly, waiting for them to start the conversation. You direct your first question to Elvis instead. 

“Where did you go?” You ask in a hushed tone. 

He sighs heavily, seeing how much you’re hurt, and kneels next to you to get closer. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was gone for so long…I went all over the country. I was trying to find anyone who might have a clue where I could find older vampires. Ones that would be more well-versed in such matters we are facing. I ran into dead ends everywhere I went. I went to New York, Louisiana, all the way back to California even but had found nothing. I couldn’t give up though.” He explains. 

“I then went to Colorado, one of the final places I decided to stop at. I met one of my buddies I know out there, he’s also one of us. I told him what I was looking for and how I wasn’t having any luck. He knew about some old vampires that lived in the mountains, far away from any town, and were essentially recluses.” He chuckles looking at Iris and Alexander snarkily. They throw daggers back at him and stay silent. 

“It wasn’t easy finding them. It took me hours to get through the mountains and get past the traps they have set up for wandering hikers,” he quips. 

“Yes that’s the whole point of living out of reach of people, so no one can find us,” Alexander grumbles. 

Elvis has a smile on his face and continues to speak, “Well, their traps weren’t that effective since I’m in one piece. But they did not like trespassers, they tried to hurt me and get me off their property,” he snickers. You didn’t laugh though. Every hair on your body felt like it stood up and your blood boiled. The very idea of anyone trying to hurt him made you angry beyond comprehension. You hate the idea of anyone hurting Elvis or even laying a finger on him. 

You grip the arm of the chair tightly, your anger getting the best of you. 

“Did either of you lay a finger on him?” You say through your teeth. They shift uncomfortably in their seats as they look at each other. They clear their throats and take a deep breath before speaking. 

“Well, y/n, you have to understand, we don’t like intruders coming near us. We didn’t know who he was-,” Iris starts to explain but you don’t let her finish, your anger getting the best of you. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?! He’s Elvis Presley! The most famous man on the planet!” You snap. Elvis puts his hand on yours, squeezing it lightly. 

“Honey, they’re telling the truth. They had no idea who I was before telling them. They don’t own a single TV or a radio,” Elvis tells you. 

You’re absolutely shocked. You had never heard of anyone before such a recluse they don’t know who Elvis is. Even his name is eye-catching and different, you can’t believe the name doesn’t even ring a bell for them. 

You try to relax a bit and focus on Elvis to calm you down. 

“What did you do to convince them?” You ask. 

“I tried to talk to them at a distance, try to explain our situation. Nothing really convinced them til they saw my eyes. They trusted me a bit more after that. The harder part was getting them to leave with me. They aren’t exactly adventurous…” he says slyly. That earned Elvis another death glare from the both of them. You throw them the same look and they get the message. 

“So do you believe us? Are you going to help us or continue to be difficult,” you question. You knew it sounded harsh, but you weren’t going to have these people in your house if they weren’t going to help you two figure out some things about your new vampire lives. 

They take a deep breath before speaking and look at you both. 

“Yes, we believe you. The way you protect Elvis is a huge indication that you have a bond. We just haven’t met anyone like us in a very long time,” Alexander says gently. 

Considering how they are so isolated, you aren’t too surprised they haven’t been in contact with any other vampires. Let alone any other bonded ones. 

You relax a bit, trying to give these people a chance and not get too upset. 

“How old are you both then? When was the last time you met someone like us?” You ask. 

They smile at each other and hold each other’s hands. 

Iris speaks first, “I’m meant to look twenty years old but in reality, I’ve been on this earth for seven hundred and fifty years. I’m originally from Spain where my family was royalty and very powerful. I’ve only met another Chosen pair twice in my life. We are extremely rare you see,” she says directing her attention to Alexander to start talking too. 

“I’m the same age too. I’m from France though. Our regions had religious tensions in these times and I was a knight fighting for my country. I was a young man then, only nineteen at the time. But I saw her face in the grand throne room and I never was the same after seeing her,” he says sweetly looking at Iris. 

“Did you know she was meant to be with you? Did you feel the connection?” You ask him inquisitively. 

He chuckles softly at you, “I wouldn’t know. I was just a human then. I just thought she was distractingly beautiful,” he explains. 

You look back at Iris with a smug smile on her face. You don’t know why you assumed he was a vampire first but you kind of feel embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for assuming things. How were you turned then, Iris? Did you feel the connection with him?” You ask. 

“I was turned when I was on my death bed, a lot like how Elvis was from how he explained it to us. It was common at that time to catch smallpox and there was no cure. It was brutal and anyone near you would undoubtedly catch it. I didn’t want to die. I begged my mother and father to do anything. Hire someone that could cure me,” she tells you. 

“At this time, it was looked down upon to go against the church's beliefs or practices. Dark magic was shunned by anyone in the country but it was still being heavily practiced. I heard from many people that there were people on the outskirts of town that would practice it and they could cure anyone that came to them. I begged my parents to get one of them to help me. I felt death closing in on me with every breath. As much as they hated the idea, they didn’t want me to die. I was engaged to a prince in England and there was too much to be lost if I suddenly passed away. They were willing to risk the chance of someone finding out that dark magic was being practiced in the palace walls.”

You were shocked by her story. She was royalty at one point and no one now knows the true story of what happened to her. All except for you and Elvis now. 

Iris continues, “They found a healer and snuck him into the palace late at night. I was getting weaker by the second and barely remembered how it happened… but I remember him asking to save me. I remember how cold he was. He felt like ice to me but I thought it was because I was so weak. He leaned in close and told me he’d give me a gift, one that would let me live forever. I thought he was crazy but I permitted him to do what needed to be done to save me. I wasn’t expecting the bite, I was expecting some sort of magic spell or something. It was excruciating as you are aware of, but after the pain of the bite resided, my body felt stronger than ever.”

“He then took me away from the palace, out of the way from harming any humans, and learned how my new abilities worked with the others that lived outside of town. I learned how to control my thirst and how to feed without hurting anyone. I was gone for a month and everyone was worried sick about me. But I eventually returned to the palace and assured everyone I was fine and better than ever. I compelled most of them that I wasn’t gone as long as they remembered to help me get back into normal life.”

You and Elvis were enthralled by her story. Some of her stories paralleled Elvis’ too. They were both so desperate to live. They didn’t know the ramifications of this choice and how it would alter their entire existence. You had so many questions for them, especially how they have been living like this for so long. 

“That’s truly incredible. I’m so glad you had guidance from them. What happened after all of that? Did you marry the prince after all?” You ask. 

She laughs amused and shakes her head, “Well, almost. I was a few days away from marrying the prince and then he walked into my life. I knew the moment I saw him,” she blushes. 

“So did I,” Elvis says softly. You look up at him in awe. It was the first time he said it to you. It was shocking to hear from his lips but it made your heart feel so happy and overjoyed. 

“So you know what I’m talking about then. That instant feeling of happiness and the pull to be closer to them,” she explains to both of you. “I had that with Alexander. The second I saw him, I thought he was the most beautiful man to ever exist.”

Alexander squeezes her hand and smiles at her. 

“I thought she was beautiful too. Everyone thought she was beautiful so I didn’t think much of it when I wanted to be closer to her. Thought I was just like everyone else,” he chuckles. 

“When did you know it was something more?” Elvis asks. 

They both look at each other and have this sly look on their faces. 

Oh… you remember that moment it became so much more intense between you two.

“Well I… I invited him to my room to talk to him. His scent lured me even more and I wanted to be extra close to him. It wasn’t until I touched him… and kept touching him that I realized there was so much more here. My body wanted him to please me beyond my wildest dreams…He became my new obsession I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to have him locked in my bedroom at all hours of the day. That was my plan actually, to keep him there til I had my fill and make him forget all of it. But as you know Elvis, you can’t compel them to forget anything,” she says heartily. 

They both laugh at the notion and Elvis nods his head in agreement. 

“Did you feel similarly with y/n Elvis?” She asks him. 

He pauses and looks at you, analyzing your eyes and dragging down to your back and your chest. He takes a slow breath in before speaking. 

“Yes, very similar. The pull she had on me from the start… all of that was the same. I tried not to touch her though. I didn’t want to repulse her. I tried to protect her from myself in any way I could. I was so starved I was so afraid I’d hurt her if I tried to take a bite.”

“But what changed…” Alexander asks him. 

Elvis shifts uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Well uhh… I got upset at her… for something stupid that was my fault anyway. But something changed in me. The way I needed her…The way I needed her physically… it was so overwhelming,” he admits. He looks over at you longingly but adverts his eyes elsewhere to not be distracted. The more you learn about the first few days with Elvis will never not shock you. You didn’t know what he was feeling or what he wanted. He was smitten by you long before you accepted the truth. 

Iris and Alexander exchange looks and nod their head in agreement. 

“That’s how it goes. You don’t want to leave their side or anything,” Iris agrees, “I felt the same thing. It only makes it worse if you have them intimately,” she adds. You watch as Elvis squeezes your hand slightly at that comment. 

“How did you tell him what you were?” You ask changing the subject. 

“Once I realized I couldn’t compel him to forget anything, panic slightly set in. I knew one of our rules was for humans to never find out about our existence. It scared me and I didn’t know what to do. I went to the man who turned me, looking for guidance. I told him the problems I was facing with Alexander. He looked at me like I grew a second head. He knew the second I started to describe the feelings I had for Alexander made him my Chosen. I never heard of what that was. He had met many others like us but for them, it took centuries to meet their Chosen. After wrapping my head around that all, I went to find Alexander and told him the truth, I showed him my fangs and reassured him I wouldn’t hurt him. But I had to explain the bond, the connection we shared was more powerful than anything in this world. He accepted me for who I was and eventually let me feed on him. It seems like we got very lucky that we didn’t need to wait for centuries for each other,” she quips proudly. 

Elvis looks at you lovingly, “we are lucky,” he coos. 

“How did you tell her Elvis? Were you scared too?” Alexander asks. 

Elvis instantly gets uncomfortable, letting go of your hand and standing back up. He fidgets with his rings, not looking at anyone in the eye when he speaks. 

“I didn’t get the chance to tell her…” Elvis admits. He looks so uncomfortable telling this to these strangers in his living room. 

“She walked in on me feeding off of a girl in my bed,” he admits. 

Iris and Alexander exchanged shocked looks. You felt the room grow very quiet and uncomfortable. You didn’t want to relive that moment, it was hard to deal with. Everything changed in that moment. If you had actually listened to him and didn’t go in his bedroom, many things would have turned out differently in this journey… you couldn’t help but wonder the alternatives…

“How could you do that to y/n?” Alexander snaps at Elvis. Elvis shoots him a death glare, it petrifies everyone in the room. 

“It’s not like I got any enjoyment out of it, believe me,” he snarls. 

“But how could you still do that? You knew that y/n was meant for you and you still fed off of someone like that,” Iris presses. 

“I couldn’t admit to her or myself that this sort of thing was real! I thought it was a legend! Something that happened a long time ago but doesn’t happen anymore,” he seethes. He steps away from you, seeing how his emotions are getting the best of him. 

“Every time I fed off of someone, all I could think of was how she tasted! How bad I wanted her and only her. So don’t look at me like I'm some kind of ruthless monster. I hated myself for doing it. How I’d have her in my bed only hours ago and try to forget how much I needed her by drowning myself in someone else.”

It felt like your heart stopped. This new confession was shocking, to say the least. Nothing prepared you for the truth of what he might have done when you weren’t with him. His eyes looked sorrowful as he looked at you. It hurt you so much to see him be this way. 

“How often would you do that…” you ask him. 

He sighs heavily, “Baby please,” he whimpers. 

“Just tell me. I can’t go back in the past and change it so it doesn’t matter. I just want to know the truth.” You say firmly. 

“One too many times…” he says softly. Not the answer you wanted to hear but it was enough. 

“I don’t know if you knew… but you’re not supposed to do that…” Iris says gently. 

“Yes I’ve gathered that,” Elvis spats at her coldly. 

They were looking at Elvis like he was the most vile creature they’d ever laid eyes upon. You felt your anger bubble up to the surface and snap. 

“How about you tell us how to go about feeding instead of sitting there and judging him! He’s not perfect but he’s different now! So much has changed. If you’re going to judge him, you have to judge me too. I was engaged when I met him but didn’t care and let Elvis take me to his bed anyway. You’re in the twentieth century, learn to adapt,” you hiss. 

Their faces are shocked by your blunt words. You weren’t going to sit there anymore as they continued to take little jabs at Elvis. 

“We’re sorry for saying those things. We apologize for hurting your feelings,” Alexander says somberly. 

“It’s fine,” you grumble, “can you tell us how you feed though? There isn’t any guidance in any book for us to follow,” you try to explain calmly. 

“Well from what I’ve known and experienced from the different vampires I’ve met, you can feed however suits you but it’s a little different when you’re with your Chosen. As I’m sure you are aware, you only want your partner’s. Nothing is as fulfilling. You still should drink human blood every few weeks to keep your strength up and keep your hunger at bay. It can be from a human you compel but you don’t bite from anywhere but the neck. You don’t feel any need for humans other than their blood. There’s no pull to give them anything else. You make your interaction with them to feed as brief as possible. But the need for each other's blood will never go away, you’ll always be in need of one another. That’s just how your bond works.” She says. She suddenly looks at you inquisitively, analyzing your overall demeanor. 

“You haven’t fed in a while. I can tell by the way your heart sounds,” she says matter-of-factly. 

You’re annoyed you can’t hide anything from any vampire. 

“I know. I couldn’t feed when Elvis was away. I was too nervous and didn’t have an appetite for anything,” you say defeated. She nods her head, understanding how you feel. She then looks over at Elvis too, giving him the same analysis. 

“You haven’t fed either. You’re starving for her,” she tells him. 

You watch as Elvis swallows harshly when he looks over at you. 

“Yes of course. We’ve just been a little busy and haven’t had the time to,” he says uncomfortably. Alexander and Iris exchange panicked looks. You don’t understand why they look shocked. Elvis was saying the truth about it all. 

“You haven’t fed from each other… at all?” Alexander asks. “Why aren’t you taking care of your wife?” He says looking at Elvis with disgust. 

Oh no. Not good. 

You stand up and step in front of Elvis and push at his chest as he looks at them with a deadly look in his eye.

“You do not get to accuse me of not taking care of my wife!” he barks over your head. “You better fucking watch it,” he growls.

“You left her unprotected and starved! Your only job for the rest of your life is to provide for her! You haven’t done that for her in this new life of hers,” he snarls at him.

“Enough! Both of you!” You snap. They both have the same reaction and look down at the floor listening to your command.

“Stop this! Stop accusing him of being a terrible man, Alexander. You know nothing about him. I have drank blood! It’s not like I’m on the brink of death. I’ve just drank from blood bags… why is this a big deal?” You ask growing increasingly anxious and frustrated. 

“Well,” Iris begins to say nervously, “That’s the final step of your change, it’s to drink each other's blood, securing the bond for life. What you drank out of him while you were still human wasn’t enough. You have to be fully changed and then drink his blood to secure your bond to him.” She explains. 

You feel like you just got punched in the gut. It made you feel sick that you weren’t technically bonded with him. If you hadn’t started fighting with him, you wouldn’t be facing this dilemma. Another bomb hits you in the chest as you're sitting there worried out of your mind…

You can’t feel Elvis’ emotions like you did the first day you were changed. You can hardly feel anything. You go to sit down again, needing to calm down and get a grasp on this information. Elvis grabs onto your hand and you look up at him. You expect to feel the worry roll off of him but you don’t feel much at all. It scared you half to death.

“I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anything you’re feeling like I did before… it’s so faint.” You say scared. You look back at Alexander’s and Iris’ nervous faces. 

“Yeah… that’s what can happen…” she says low. “You need to bite each other and it’ll be okay. The longer you wait, the harder it is to restore your bond. You could have easily been able to be compelled by another vampire while Elvis was gone,” she says regretfully. 

Alexander nods in agreement, “that’s why we don’t like to be away from each other. You made to protect your other half. It feels physically ailing to be away for long,” he says gently. 

It made so much sense why you felt so lost and empty when he left. The other half of you was being ripped out of you. 

“When were you turned y/n?” Iris asks.

“May 17th,” you inform. She gives you both another wide-eyed look. 

“And that was the last time you drank from each other? That’s so long ago…” she says confused. 

“Well, I didn’t wake up for eight days after his bite,” you start to explain. 

“Eight days? That shouldn’t be possible…I don’t understand…” Iris says lost in thought. “The only way for the change to be interrupted was if someone else bit you but that can be possible…”

You feel your mouth turn dry at the memory. It feels like so long ago but it wasn’t. The last memory of Raphael biting you was excruciating and the most pain you’ve ever felt. You would always hate him even in death that he did that to you. 

“I was bitten by someone else,” you squeak out. They stare motionless on the couch, looking at both you and Elvis in shock. 

You hear a growl form deep in Elvis’ chest at the memory. 

“Who?” They ask in unison.

“The man that bit me, Raphael, abducted her and fed off of her, multiple times. He almost killed her along with her ex-fiancé,” Elvis seethes. 

Iris turns her attention to you to speak, “How many times did he bite you? Where did he bite?” She asks a little frantic. 

Your head feels a bit lightheaded and you have to take a few deep breaths before speaking. 

“Everywhere. His bite hurt so much. He bit deep and tore my skin so badly. I had ugly scars everywhere,” you tremble at the memory. You instinctively remember where he bit you. You had to look at those marks every day and shield them from Elvis in any way you could for months. You raise your hand up to your chest, feeling the phantom pain of where those bites were. 

You freeze. 

You had to be delirious with thirst or so in shock with all this new information that you could swear you feel the raised scar of the bite mark. You pull down the collar of your shirt and gasp. 

A prominent scar, a bite mark was red on your chest, the exact place where Raphael bit you. 

You look at Elvis horrified, you have no idea when this got here but it looks just like it did when you came back from the hospital. Elvis stares angry daggers at the scar as his breathing becomes ragged. 

“How long has that been there,” Elvis hisses. 

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I haven’t noticed it,” you say dazed thinking to remember if you noticed anything weird before. He moves your hair to expose your neck and growls loudly.  

“What does this mean!” Elvis snaps at Alexander and Iris. You raise your hand to cover your neck and feel the raised scar there too. You want to cry, this was all too much. 

They can’t look him in the eye, his anger was so palpable and coming off of him in heaps. It felt like it was choking you. 

“We don’t know exactly. I know for a fact that no one is supposed to feed from another person’s Chosen. That is heresy and that person would be killed for their actions. No one is even supposed to touch her except you,” she explains to Elvis. She cautiously stands up and lowers her gaze. 

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at your wife’s scars? I won’t touch her I swear,” she says timidly. 

“Fine,” he grumbles through his teeth. 

Iris makes her way to you and kneels in front of you to get a better look at the marks. You hear her suck in a sharp breath as she inspects them. You pull your shirt down to show her that mark too. She looks at you with sorrow in her eyes. 

“These bites… I don’t know how you survived them while you were human. These bites were vicious and cruel. It’s like…” she trails off lost in thought. You knew what she was going to say. You thought the same thing while he was biting you. 

“Like he was trying to mark me as his,” you breathe. 

She stays silent and nods her head. “This is so strange… I’ve only heard of something like this happening if-,” she says but gets interrupted by Elvis. 

“What does this mean? Why is this happening to her? First, she didn’t turn right away and now these bite marks are coming back? I don’t understand,” Elvis says frustratedly. 

Iris stands back up and is listening in thought. She paces a bit, collecting her thoughts. 

“Forgive me for the lack of clarity but… you killed Raphael for this, didn’t you? For doing all of this to her?” She asks him. 

“Yes of course I did. Cut his head right off,” he growls. Iris looks at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to say more. 

She swallows harshly, “…and you staked him in the heart right?” She asks gently. 

You look up at Elvis expecting to see him nodding in agreement but instead, he turns three shades paler and his knees buckle to the floor. You grab onto his shoulder and try to get him to look at you. 

“Honey?” You shake him. 

He looks up and for the first time in a while, his eyes look dark. 

Deadly.

Vicious.

On the hunt for blood.

His breathing becomes labored and his fangs descend down. 

“You’re telling me, Raphael is alive?” He hisses. 

“It’s possible… and it looks like it’s true with these scars reforming on her body. He has a tie to her it seems. Only someone so cruel and vile would inflict this kind of harm,” she says lightly. 

“No!” Elvis yells, his fist slamming into the wall behind him. Pieces of drywall crumble down and a large hole is left behind. 

“I’m not entirely certain though. It is just a theory. It looks like a huge possibility though. He would need a lot of help to be brought back to life, but it’s possible. The only way to truly kill a vampire is to stake them in the heart, with an ash stake in particular. Certain types of wood hold mystical properties that will keep vampires dead. There is no way of resuscitating them after that and since you didn’t do that… he might be out there somewhere,” she says walking back to the couch cautiously, looking at him with his fangs exposed like he was dangerous. You had to agree though, he was dangerous when it came to protecting you. He would do anything for you and should be feared. 

“I-I-I didn’t know… no one told me and none of the legends go into that sort of thing…” he says scared. You try to recall the books you had been reading and you don’t remember any specifics of how to kill a vampire. You’re sure Elvis read every book there was and read it multiple times, he wouldn’t miss that crucial piece of information.

“It’s okay Elvis, it's not a widely known thing because we don’t want everyone to know how to annihilate us off this planet. Humans have always been superstitious about us and if they knew the one thing that can kill us, it would be a very hard life to live here,” she explains

Your stomach turned and felt like you could be sick. This was the worst thing you could hear. You had some sort of tie to that wicked, cruel man all because you let him bite you while you were human. You couldn’t believe any of this. It felt like the world was closing in on you and you were drowning. 

“We’ll figure out what to do together. It’ll be alright. It’s not like he knows where you live,” Alexander tried to reassure. 

“Everyone knows where I live you fucking-,” Elvis starts to yell but you quickly get up and try to stop him. 

“Honey stop stop! It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re going to be fine,” you say trying to calm him down, He looks at you like he doesn’t believe a word you just said. Frankly, you don’t believe a word you said either. You had no idea if it was going to be okay. 

“What do we do?” Elvis asks them. 

“He’s going to come looking for her eventually, so it’s best to be prepared. Keep your guys on watch and keep everyone strong. So that means you two need to feed and complete your bond. That will help you get stronger and not let him have more of a hold on her or risk her getting compelled by him in any way,” Alexander tells you both. 

Iris grabs his hand and stands up again. 

“We should leave you alone for now. I know you both have a lot to discuss. We’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk more,” she says softly and starts to make her way to the front door with Alexander in tow. 

The front door slams and you both are standing there motionless, stuck in complete shock. Elvis looks like he’s about to collapse again. He slowly walks to the staircase and sits down on the third step. His face is in his hands and his long legs are stretched out. He looks defeated like this. Your heart dies to see him like this. 

You kneel in between his legs, “Honey, I-I’m so scared,” you whimper. He looks up at you and his fangs are gone and tears fall down his cheeks. 

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry for this,” he sighs. 

“No honey that’s not true-,” you try to reassure.

“No. It is. I have put you in so much danger since meeting you and even worse, I left you alone for weeks, defenseless and starving. I don’t know why I keep fucking all this up with you. I’m so sorry,” he sighs.

“I understand why you left,” you say gently, “you were desperate for answers. I’m sorry that I started a fight that drove you to leave though. I’m sorry for that. I wish you could have told me how you felt in the beginning. I didn’t know about any of that you said in the living room,” you say sheepishly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between you two and Elvis continues to not look at you. Your heart thumps nervously, waiting for him to say anything to reassure you.

“It was too sickening to admit to you. I couldn’t look at your face when I said it,” he pauses to look at you. “I can’t take any of it back but if it changes anything, I’ve loved you the second I saw you. I was too afraid to admit it, so I did some shallow things, and I’m sorry for that,” he sniffles.

Your heart breaks as you watch him sit there. You reach for his hand and squeeze it lightly.

“We’re not perfect, but I believe you. We can’t change the past… I know your love for me has always been stronger than I can possibly imagine,” you say softly. He lets go of your hand and wipes his face.

“I’m an idiot… I can’t keep doing this to you. You’re in harm's way yet again,” he pauses and looks at you for the first time. His eyes look like he’s looking right through you, “Maybe it would be better if you forgot all of this…compel you. Send you far away until I take care of Raphael once and for all and just start over with us…” he alludes.

Your heart stops. You stare at him blankly and can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. You stumble backward, not being able to be so close to him.

“E-Elvis…NO! What are you thinking! No!” You yell at him.

“I can’t cause you any more pain! And there is bound to be more pain with Raphael around! It’s going to kill me if he hurts you again! I can’t see that again,” he cries, grabbing your arm to still you. “I can send you with Iris and Alexander, I know they’d protect you-,” he continues.

“NO! I won’t let you do that!” You yell, getting up to your feet. “If you do that, I’ll never forgive you, Elvis! I promise you that!” You seethe, tears flowing down your face. 

He stands up too, looking at you intensely. You can’t help but hold your breath, too afraid of what he’s going to say next.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to put you out of harm's way,” he trembles.

“This isn’t the solution. I would never agree to that” you cry. “I swear I won’t forgive you if you make me forget a single detail!”

“Then what is the solution?! If he hurts you, or even worse, tries to kill you, I would die too. We’re meant to be together forever, tied together in our bond…the bond that I’ve only weakened being gone so long and not letting you feed…” he says mournfully. 

“Stop please, I can’t live without you either. Not even for a second! I would always feel this giant hole inside my heart if you had someone compel me to forget you. It would be the worst pain I could ever feel,” you shudder. 

You step closer to him with hurt eyes and an aching heart.

“We need to figure this out together, not pushing each other away. How many times do I need to prove that to you,” you say gently. He looks at you through tear-filled eyes and breathes slowly. You can feel the mood of the room drastically shift with the way he’s looking at you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him but there’s a small part of you that still trembles in his presence.

 He takes a small step closer to you, then another and another, just until your chests barely touch. 

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I felt so hollow without you these last few weeks… I don’t know how I would last another day,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. You feel your heart flutter again, gasping for breath in his suffocating presence.

“I know,” you breathe, closing your eyes.

He gently caresses your arms, giving you chills down your spine. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for this.” He grumbles. 

His touch sparks the dimmed light inside you and you want to touch him too. He moves his face to the side of yours and runs his fingers through your hair. He sighs slowly then takes in a deep breath, taking in your scent. You feel like you could crumble at his feet. The slightest touch makes it harder and harder to breathe. His fingers slowly drag down the length of your hair and his hand snakes down to your waist. Your breath catches in your throat as he does this, not ready for his intimate touch. You feel his teeth graze your earlobe and slowly drag it down. 

Lord save me.

“Baby, I ache for you…” he gasps. You pull your head away from his and you try to look in his eyes.

He flashes his golden eyes to you and makes you weak.

“Fix me,” he whimpers.

“Y-you don’t… I don’t unders-,” you tremble as you feel him pull your body flush to his.

“Make me whole again… Please,” he sighs squeezing you tighter. “Forgive me for all of it.”

Your breathing feels ragged and like an involuntary reaction, you pull at his arms to hold you tighter. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel the heat linger there. His hand tangles in your hair again and you feel him become more desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know, it’s okay,” you say back.

He quickly picks you up by the back of your knees and lifts you off the ground, carrying you up the white carpeted stairs. He looks at you in his arms like you’re a wounded bird he found on the side of the road. His eyes bled so much sorrow and shame. They might appear golden right now, but underneath there was this cold, blustery storm inside of them that he was battling by himself. 

He pushes open the bedroom door with his back and shuts it with his foot. He walks over to the bed and places you in the middle of it. You realize this is the first time you’ve laid in this bed since coming here. You didn’t want to get in it with Elvis around. He sits next to you, observing every inch of you as you lay there. He brushes your hair off of your chest and exposes your neck to him. You instantly cover up the scar mark with your hand. 

“Forgive me,” he whimpers again, pulling your hand away from your neck. 

“It’s okay,” you breathe. 

He scoops his hands underneath your back and gets on top of you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his torso, wanting him closer. He grumbles delightfully, relishing in the closeness. 

“Feed on me,” he says in a breathy voice, “then let me make love to you. Please,” he begs. 

“Honey I-,” you begin to say but he cuts you off with a kiss. This kiss was like no other. It was meaningful, passionate, and intense with fireworks exploding in your mind when you felt his lips. Oh how you missed his lips, those perfect plush lips that have you needing more. Your hands tangle in his hair, wanting him to stay close. You breathe in his scent, realizing how much you missed that too. 

“Please,” he begs.

He takes his lips off yours and covers your cheek with kisses. He stops when he reaches your neck and you freeze. You didn’t want him to look there ever again. His thumb glides gently along the scar. 

“Honey I’m so sorry,” he begins to say. 

“Please don’t look. It’s too much,” you whimper. 

He doesn’t listen of course and starts to lift up your shirt to see the other marks. You had to look away from him, you couldn’t watch his reaction yet again to those horrendous scars. You can feel his fingertips trace over the marks in a calculated and precise manner. You sigh and try to get him to touch you anywhere else but he’s much stronger than you and won’t budge. He slowly starts to cover your torso in warm, wet kisses, trailing up to your breasts and you melt away. You feel your heart start to race, getting even weaker the longer his mouth is on your skin. 

“Feed on me,” he says low as you feel his hardening length press against your core. You grumble at the sensation and moan softly. You pull his neck closer to your mouth and try to focus. You place a kiss on the spot you want to bite and hear him groan slightly. You try to get your fangs to descend and feel the pull of his scent to beckon you for more. You feel your teeth sharpen and your sensations get overloaded with need for him. You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him closer to sink your teeth into him. You pierce his skin and he groans heavily. His blood spills into your mouth and it tastes like heaven. It’s better than you remembered and all the blood bags you drank put this to shame. He tasted so sweet yet savory. So satisfying and yet you’ll always need more. 

You groan as you swallow mouthfuls, feeling so content and happy. You feel his hand slither down to the button of your pants and undo it, sliding the zipper down too. He feels your heat radiate from your core and puts his hands into your panties. You hold onto him tighter, knowing you’re going to be ultra-sensitive when he touches you. His fingers find your clit and rub it in soft, concentrated circles. 

A fire ignites in you and you groan. You weren’t going to stop feeding until he told you to. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this in your entire life. It was strangely erotic, the way you wanted his body and his blood to appease the undying need for him. You hold him tighter, as you feel his finger tease your entrance. You were wetter than expected and he groans softly. You moan into his neck and carefully take your teeth out of him. Your entire body felt like it was tingling, buzzing with an electric wave that flowed between you and him. 

He lifts up his head and hovers over you. His eyes drink in your needy body as you gaze at the bite mark you left on him leaking with blood. It made you thirsty again. He pulls your pants down swiftly and uncovers the remaining scars left behind. 

He trails kisses up your body until he’s back at your lips. 

“Can I make love to you now? Please,” He asks softly. You feel your heart fly out of your chest by the request. 

All you can do is nod your head and tear at his shirt, ripping it clean off of him. He would normally make a snarky comment about how that’s his favorite shirt or something but not tonight. The mood is very different in here. He sheds his pants off and climbs back on the bed with you. His hand rubs your tummy lovingly and looks up at you with care. 

“I need you,” he whimpers. 

He doesn’t have to say much else to drive you crazy. You put your hands on his hips to get him closer. He gently rubs his length through your wet folds, causing both of you to groan. You were more sensitive than you were expecting. Every sense inside you was heightened and you can only imagine this is going to be like the first time he fucked you. So completely overwhelming and needy. 

You watch as he teases you, covering his tip in your wetness. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan in agony. You can’t help but ball the comforter in your fist as you anticipate him entering you. 

“I’m gonna love you nice and slow, okay?” He says low and sultry. 

Please God yes! Please love me! That’s all I want, your brain screams. 

You pop your eyes back open and nod your head yes. 

That’s all you can do, there aren’t any words that can be said out loud. And with that, he pushes his cock inside you. He felt so good, it had been so long since he got to do this. His bedroom eyes are heavy with lust as he watches you underneath him. 

He places a kiss on your lips, groaning as he does so. He pushes in a bit more, your entrance stretching around him as it makes you gasp. 

“Oh God,” you groan into his mouth, your fingers scratching down his back. 

He places a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck. These touches can send you to heaven and he knows it. He kisses you more and each one leaves you more breathless. His hips move like only he can giving you more of his cock. 

There was so much urgency but also tenderness from him. The way he was loving you was like his life depended on it. Maybe it did and he needed you this much.

“I missed you,” he groans into your ear as he moves deeper inside you.

You can’t handle him, he is making you a total puddle underneath him. You continue to hold onto him tight and enjoy every second of this. Elvis places a kiss on your forehead before looking at you with a familiar glint in his eye.

He was starving.

It made your heart gallop uncontrollably and quite frankly, it made you starved too. You could wait though, you wanted to take care of him too.

“Bite me,” you whimper. He responds with a groan and plunges his length fully inside of you making you cry out for him. Your walls squeeze around him momentarily as he moves more inside of you. You need to gasp for breath as each thrust of his makes you immeasurably weak. Looking up at him stunned, he continues to gently swivel his hips into you and makes you moan his name louder. He can’t help but smirk when he watches you get physically pleased by him.

“Honey please,” you beg him, trying to get him to lean back into your neck. He doesn’t listen to your directions right away, there is this restraint to him. You sense that he’s timid and shy throughout all of this.

“I’m starved, honey. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly. You claw at his arms and moan frustratedly.

“Please, just bite me. I can take it,” you groan.

His chest heaves as he looks at you and he grabs a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. It was like a switch flipped and the mood of the room shifted dramatically. You can feel how needy he has become and how hungry he is for you. 

“Fuck darlin’, I needed to hear that,” he groans. His hips grind into you harder making that coil inside you tighten with every thrust of his cock. He looks at you so intensely and keeps his slow pace that is agonizingly satisfying for you. You bare the side of your neck to him and hope he takes the hint to bite you there. 

You close your eyes and feel his teeth gently sink into your neck, making you suck in a sharp breath. You don’t know what to expect but you know it wouldn��t be painful like last time. And you were right. This strange frenzy develops inside you and your pleasure skyrockets. You loved how he felt drinking from you as he buried his cock deep inside of you. You couldn’t get enough of this and you could feel how much he loved this too. Your heart soars knowing your bond together is only strengthening. Elvis groans deeply as he drinks your blood, his grip on you getting tighter. 

He pauses and takes his fangs out of you. 

“Oh honey, you are so delicious,” he grovels. 

“Take more baby,” you tell him breathlessly. 

He licks his lips slow and sultry, thrusting into you a bit faster. He concentrates on your pleasure and the faces you make because of it, wanting to see you fall apart. 

“You’re mine,” he growls, "fucking mine." He goes back to sink his teeth into the top of your breast. You gasp as he squeezes and sucks on it. He quickly takes his length out of you and you groan in agony, your walls fluttering in need of him once more. He trails kisses down your breasts and moves down to your tummy, biting there and groaning. Every kiss and bite from him was so overwhelming. Pleasure skyrocketed through you and couldn’t help but cuss his name. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to mark you as his in a very apparent way. You believed it, your heart and soul knew it but for anyone else that might glance your way, he wanted them to know too. You moan his name and look down where he’s going to bite next. He examines the scar on your thigh and grumbles displeased. He takes another bite there, squeezing your thigh tightly and groaning when he tastes you. 

His bite marks that he made were left leaking and spilling onto the sheets. You had to pray they would heal quickly and everything was going to be alright. Elvis licks up your thigh and looks at you once again. His eyes are much more soft and his demeanor is calmer. Lastly, he takes your wrist and bites there, grumbling to himself pleased at the taste of you.

“Thank you, honey,” he sighs, “I can feel you again. I can feel how much you loved that.” He says relieved.

“Mhmm me too,” you smile at him, feeling his heart soar with happiness and relief. You pull at his arm and make him get closer to you.

“Please, I need you,” you moan.

He gives you a soft smile, “what do you need baby?” He says low, his voice gruff and sultry.

“I need you back inside of me,” you beg.

He nods his head at you and grabs onto your hips tightly, pushing his cock into you with a groan. You cry out for Elvis and writhe under him.

“Jesus mama you feel so damn good,” he groans, continuing to thrust slow and concentrated. “So fucking wet for me.”

With the way he feels and those lust-driven words coming from his mouth, you can’t hold on much longer. You wanted him to make you come apart. He looks so good while he fucks you; his hair tussled against his forehead, the low groans he makes when his cock is deep inside you, the way he lets his head fall back to the ceiling as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His neck was perfectly bared for you to bite him. You wanted him so desperately, that it made it hard to breathe. Your hips match his thrusts, needing him to fuck you harder. You look at him with pleading eyes and it’s like he heard your thoughts when you feel him move a bit faster and rub your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out.

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you come,” he beckons, thrusting deep inside you. He pins your arms down again and nips at your neck. 

“Come for me, please,” he growls in your ear. “I need you.”

You gasp at his words and beg him for more. He groans deeply and fucks you harder, making you see stars. Your walls squeeze around his cock and rock into every thrust he gives you. Every limb tingles with pleasure and you moan loudly for him. It felt so different than the last time you were with him. You were so much more sensitive now and craved him like never before. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth and moves slower in and out of you.

“FUck, sucha good girl. I want to come deep inside you now,” he groans loudly. You need him to do that, the way his body ached for you was overwhelming, and wanted him to feel pleased like never before.

You twist your arms out of his grasp and it surprises him you were able to do so. You grab onto his shoulders and push him to the side, making him lay on his back quickly. You sink down on his cock once again and groan when he fills you again. He looks up at you wide-eyed and needy. His chest heaves and he grabs onto your hips to help you ride him. 

“Shit baby yes, nice and slow,” he groans, rocking your hips back and forth on him. You gasp and nod your head at him, grinding slowly on his cock.

You cup your breast in your hands and roll your nipples in between your fingers, sending a zing of pleasure through you. Elvis can’t tear his eyes off of you and you can feel him grow desperate for you. You tease him, touching yourself more and making him watch. You look down at your hardened nipples and see the blood spilling from the bite mark he made. Your finger swipes up the trail of blood and place it to his lips. He opens his mouth gladly and swirls his tongue around your finger, sucking on it to make sure he licks all of your blood clean off. He groans and his eyebrows furrow as he looks up at you. Rocking your hips more, you know he needs to come. Your heart pounds away as you watch him and you feel his cock pulse deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes. You move faster and he holds onto your hips. His hips move off the bed to meet every thrust you give him making you want to come again.

“Fuck baby… so good, so good,” he whimpers. You smile pleased that you have him so weak for you.

You lean down onto his chest and make him bare his neck to you. This incessant thirst you have for him consumes your thoughts and you take a bite from his neck, sucking his blood happily. You hear him growl low and moan your name again.

“Good girl,” he whimpers. You take a few more gulps and take your mouth off of him, needing air. You felt so light and weak and yet, stronger than ever. It was such a strange sensation and you can see Elvis feels the same. He wraps his arms around you tightly and keeps you on his chest.

You both lay like this for a while, not wanting this moment to end. 

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear.

“I love you too,” you sigh.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly.

“I know,” you say. You didn’t want to think about the future, you just wanted to live in this moment with him forever. You had to have hope that his words were true, everything was going to be alright and you both could have a peaceful and happy life together.

You push yourself off of him to look into those beautiful eyes of his and he smiles when he sees your face.

“The bite marks I made are healed honey,” he says pleased, rubbing his thumb gently along your neck.

“Good,” you smile. You start to get off of him to lay next to him but he stops you and keeps you on top of him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you,” he says devilishly. You feel your heart skip a beat and he pulls you close again, covering you in kisses.

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Tagging : @burninlovebutler

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[freddie-77-ao3]

Help me choose a fic to work on:

(summaries below poll)

Gorgeous Girl, Goddess Girl, (Good Isn't All You Have Been)

Silena raises her head high as she dons Clarisse's armor. One way or another, it ends today.

She places the note on Drew's pillow, and then Clarisse's.

She steps in the chariot.

She dies.

~~~

Silena dies. These are her actions leading up to it.

___________________

Everything Is In Past Tense Now (You're All Gone)

("And Silena, she makes chocolates with her dad right before the start of summer, and she'll bring them in and they always taste awful 'cause she never makes them any other time, but everyone eats them, 'cause it's Silena. You'll love 'em though, 'cause Cecil always makes ice cream to go with the chocolate, and Malcolm and Beck'll make some baked goods." Chris sees Drew leave the room, Nyssa wipe away a tear, and Clarisse balling her hands into fists and whispering 'hero, hero, hero, she was a hero,' and he realizes his slip up.

Slip ups at camp fires where people don't quite seem dead. (Denial is much stronger than reality when we want it to be)

___________________

This Ship Can't Sink Until It Sails [Tales From The Argo II]

1-3: Piper & Percy prank Leo. Leo tries to rope in Jason & Frank, who can't prank. Meanwhile, Hazel & Annabeth have plans of their own.

4: Annabeth & Jason bond over Thalia, and telling stories about their time at the camps, and architecture after Kym.

5-6: HOH rescue. 7+Reyna/Nico play truth or dare & monopoly. Percy & Nico have just enough time to take Hazel&Jason out for burgers.

7: Jason & Nico talk more after Eros. Hazel & Piper bond.

8: The seven manage to get sick, and Hazel is introduced to Disney movies.

9/10: Coach Hedge & Percy have a bonding moment, & Percy IM's people at camp.

11-12: Coach Hedge's POV on each of the 7. Reyna&Nico&Hedge in Alberta and why it will NEVER be mentioned.

13: the aftermath of the ending of MOA.

14: The last day, the 7 play uno and write goodbye notes. Leo's funeral.

___________________

The Gods Watch From Their Heavens And Judge Us (But Their Sins Outnumber Ours)

Annabeth and Jason and Luke. Those are all the people that Thalia has cared about in her twelve short years. Jason is dead. Annabeth is screaming. Luke is sobbing.

Thalia has failed them all. 

Thalia's reflection on her life as she dies.

___________________

Before And After (Though We Often Wish It Hadn't)

There have been hundreds of events in her life that have a before and after. There was the before she ran away, and the after of Camp Half Blood. There was the before she met will, and the after: when she would do anything to protect him. Clarisse has had hundreds of befores and afters, but nothing quite like this. 

She didn’t think that there was an after to watching her siblings get consumed by the earth, screaming, while another watched. 

She doesn’t know how to cope with that after: a quieter cabin, unfinished bottles of hair solution, and unmade beds.

___________________

Where Our Lines Blur (Hold My Hand)

Connor Stoll likes Malcolm Pace. Malcolm Pace likes Connor Stoll. Seems simple, right? Even more so when they go out to eat together, alone, once a week? But no, it isn't, and Annabeth is going to lose her damn mind if this keeps up. Travis too.

So they drive the two out of camp until they confess, which leads to a day of disasters and disregarded laws including car theft and shoplifting, not to mention the fact that neither of them know how to drive or are of age for a license. 

And then they manage to go on a two person raid of a camp with 40 demigods in it, the two are forced to swear something on the River Styx, and it somehow isn't even the worst part of the day?

Travis and Annabeth aren't impressed.

___________________

Come Down The Floods (And Bathe In The Blood Of Gods)

Connor Stoll's morning starts like this: it's three twenty in the morning, and there is a ghost next to them. Drew is already up. There is a storm giant in battle against the gods, and they are in a war against Kronos. It is five days before the biggest battle of Connor's life, and in forty minutes, they'll be dancing on the table with their friends. 

ALT: Connor's perspective of the mission to blow up the Princess Andromeda, the day of Beckendorf's funeral, the three days of the Battle of Manhattan, and the funerals that come afterwards.

___________________

Hateful Heroes (Burdened With Bitterness)

(I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU-)

War. War and Death and Tragedy galore. Clarisse isn't mourning properly. Percy isn't either really, and it's of no surprise. (What teenagers are meant to mourn for the people who make up their entire world?) Clarisse starts a fist fight by the dying embers of Hestia's fire and Silena's shroud- but it won't bring her back. Percy stays awake at night watching blood arise from his skin- no amount of it is going to make up for the lives lost.

And then they break. It's not a surprise, but for Hestia who sits by the hearth as they scream? Her heart breaks.

(THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HAD DIED- DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? I WISH I HAD!- I WISH YOU HAD TOO! MAYBE SILENA WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!)

___________________

Tell Me I Can Live My Life (Don't Tell Me How To Live It)

The moment that Silena decides to become a spy for Kronos is the day that Drew breaks down in tears over her sexuality.

Drew wants to join the Hunters of Artemis, Aphrodite has a rule against that, and Mitchell tells horror stories about the rule.

___________________

So We Scream At The World (How Dare It Be Bright In Light Of Our Loss)

Will Solace is thirteen years old and ready to die. He's seen other people die, lots of them, and thinks that some of them didn't look like they were in pain, so really, how bad could it be? He's exhausted.

He is thirteen, and in charge of the infirmary. Usually it would be left to older kids, but he is the oldest. He's thirteen, and in charge of his siblings. Of making sure they don't die. He is not a leader, but he has been at camp the longest.

He just wants to sleep and never wake up. His family (because that is what they are, what they have become in this war) doesn't want to let him. (They want him to sleep, but they also want him to wake up.)

___________________

When All Your Fucking Dreams Are Dead

The Olympian dream is dead. Demigods pile up in bodies, and learn to fight monsters before they learn how to do addition- if they ever do learn either of those things, that is. Funny, right? They’re myths, they’re fairytales, it’s not like any parents would ever let their six year old fight monsters and take care of a toddler to survive, no, why the fuck would you think that? Fucking Olympian dream, folks. And hahaha, it’s all too funny, then you get to camp, you have no money, don’t even get your own clothes- no. Far to expensive when there’s two hundred children waiting for some food, and some bedding, and gods if someone else could just get a bed to sleep on, or even a place that wasn’t the floor- 

Has anyone considered that might have stopped the fucking war?

Or: time travel escapades lead Luke Castellan to be a little less bitter, and things- things go better- somewhat. 

Drew Tanaka, Connor Stoll, and Malcolm Pace travel back in time to just after Luke Castellan returns from his quest– Alone. 

___________________

Rewind, Rewind (I Remember That Night)

Characters reading the books fanfiction, will hopefully span from the start of PJO to the end of TOA. Minor character discrepancy.

"There's something worse coming. Isn't there? That's why we're here. Because something worse is going to happen-- again? You're doing this to us again? Three times. Three times we've fought for you-- when is it enough?" The figure still encloaked in shadows bitterly called towards the ceiling.

At once, like the hissing of snakes, like every sound in the world at once, the three fates rasped out, "Do not lecture us, child of the gods, of Athena and Hecate, this is the ONLY thing left..."

The figure did not recoil, and stood firm, "What is it this time? It was Kronos, then Gaea, then the emperors and Python... What's next? Ouranos? Khaos? What can't we recover from?" Behind him, the other campers whispered in shock and horror, but the boy didn't stop glaring at them.

[sarilolla]

What if Bruce and Floyd are the only ones who were found and brought to Branch in time to talk about what they were up to in the past 20 years before they have to say goodbye to their dying brother? Also, how cute would it be if Bruce were to show Branch pictures of Bruce's wife and kids?

Omg yes, this is so cute, but also ouch, only two brothers getting there on time (the brainrot is real for this au, thanks to everyone for enabling me <3)

So, I'm not specifying who exactly is picking Bruce up, but just know it's some of the bounty hunters from the second movie

Hanahaki Branch au (slight spoilers/alternative ending to not finished fic)

***

Bruce had had a very normal day of running his and Brandy's restaurant, helping his beautiful wife, and attending to his kids whenever they needed or wanted something. It was a normal day. The day did start going south as soon as other Trolls showed up, Trolls he had met before. There was nothing wrong with Trolls visiting, just unusual, so he always made an effort to at least become aquianted with the travelers that visited "Bruce and sons and one daughter".

They weren't there to chat or order food though. Not there to catch up. They were friends of Branch. He almost lost what he was holding when they told him why they were there. Branch was dying. His baby brother was dying. An old, but scary disease had taken hold of him, and he was reaching the final stage where he couldn't save his life on his own anymore.

Brandy pushed him out the door herself. There was no time to lose. He would make it up to her soon enough, the time he was taking off work and leaving her alone with the kids. He knew his lovely in-laws would help her though.

The air was tense when they arrived in Pop Village. People were waiting, watching, and he was very firmly guided to a large rock, seeing a "go away" welcome mat. Stepping on, it revealed to be an elevator, and he was both confused and surprised as they descended into a well-stocked and carefully crafted bunker.

He was guided to the door, and people seemed relieved he was there. He wondered if he was the first to arrive, considering how anxious the few Trolls who were moving around were acting, but opening the door to a bedroom, he saw he wasn't. A pink Troll sat on one side of the bed, her eyes watching the Troll in the bed. On the other side sat a teal Troll with dark pink hair. Floyd. The second youngest had changed, but he still had that tell-tale tenseness in his body that told Bruce he was unhappy. He was speaking softly, and Bruce thought he heard something about "nearly kidnapped", but didn't focus on that.

In the bed lay a sickly-looking Troll, with dull coloring, but the family teal, and dark blue hair was unmistakable. Branch.

He was the first to notice his arrival, and they made eye contact, a soft and searching look in the youngest eyes. The other two finally noticed him, and the pink Troll shot up.

"Spruce, right?"

He blinked, correcting her, "It's Bruce now, actually. And you?"

"Poppy. I'm Branch's girlfriend."

He nodded, and she let him take her seat, and she moved a few steps away, shifting nervously.

"Talk with each other, please? I can't lose him."

The words stung. He hadn't expected his baby brother to have a girlfriend, and he could only imagine how painful it was losing someone you loved like that and not being able to help.

When he nodded, she left the room, closing the door behind her. Branch's eyes were still trained on him, but Floyd was fully focused on the youngest. They were holding hands, and as carefully as he could, he took the free hand Branch offered him.

"Love you."

He said carefully, and Bruce teared up at how small his voice sounded.

"I love you too, Bittie B."

Branch frowned a bit, and Floyd chuckled, even if it sounded teary and a bit pained.

"Not a baby."

"Sorry. I love you, Branch."

That earned him a soft smile from both his two youngest brothers. Finally getting eye contact with the second youngest, he told him the same.

"I love you, Floyd."

Floyd bit his lip to avoid saying something sarcastic but replied just as easily.

"I love you too... Bruce."

He couldn't help but smile. It was nice hearing one of his brothers use the name. It felt right.

Branch's breathing had cleared a bit, and like he had asked Floyd earlier, he asked Bruce to share what he had done after escaping the Troll Tree.

He spoke of traveling a few different places, before he somehow washed up on Vacay Island, meeting the most amazing woman. His brothers didn't tease him for the fact that "The Heartthrob" had settled down and were mainly just excited for him. There were no comments on how he had changed, just happiness and relief to see him. He talked about his kids, all thirteen, and while they were happy to be uncles, they were a bit surprised at the large number.

He showed them pictures. His and Brandy's wedding day, how he was tiny compared to her. The opening day of their restaurant, and pictures taken from different events over the years. Pictures of the large eggs of all the kids. First walks, first songs, first day of school. Floyd snickered at the picture of one of his kids in a ketchup bottle, but Branch only smiled, too tired to react anymore. Bruce couldn't wait until they took a full family picture with everyone. His brothers would love his new home, and he was sure both parts of his family would interact wonderfully.

The youngest looked really, really tired, and Bruce, as a dad, could tell he was fighting sleep. He just needed to decide if Branch should sleep, or if they should keep him awake just a bit longer. He had dealt with his fair share of sicknesses with so many kids, but Hanahaki... he hoped he would never see again.

Floyd spoke a bit about his own travels when Bruce asked, and he was so proud of him. Branch had closed his eyes, only listening to them, and his labored breath and hard hand-holding were all the indications he was still there.

It had been two hours after Bruce arrived now, and Floyd had already been there for four. They were getting anxious. Where was JD and Clay? Would they be found in time? The local doctor had done a quick check on Branch when they went outside for a quick snack and bathroom break, and the news wasn't good. The Hanahaki was old, clinging to him, and if the two remaining flowers weren't taken care of soon...

Poppy joined them after, and she shared stories of her and Branch's adventures, and the two marveled at what their baby brother had accomplished. They were so proud, especially when he got the strength to add to or correct something his girlfriend said. But then he got tired again, his eyes slipping shut.

"Don't... don't be angry with them for not arriving in time. Tell them I love them."

Was the last thing he said, coughing a bit, and they picked up the fully bloomed multi-colored iris and dahlia into their paws. They were both shaking as they realized what he was insinuating, pleading with him to open his eyes again. They needed to see him. They needed him to be alive.

His breath was labored. Stuttering. Until it stopped. Branch's hold went slack in their hands, and the trio who had been sitting with him took a long moment to fully realize what was happening. Poppy was the first to break down and cry, while Bruce was frozen, and Floyd looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Slowly, he made his way over to his brother, sitting by him as they hugged.

Branch was dead.

They didn't know where John Dory and Clay were, but right now, it didn't matter. The youngest was dead, and they would never be a whole family again.

***

Y'all are enabling me to have Branch die, you know that? Please continue-

Just... augh, only two of them getting there in time, just ouch. Wanted to keep it vague if JD and Clay were found, or just didn't show up on time

Branch death counter for this au: 4 (non-canon but still-)

[nekoannie-chan]

You still love me

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1179 words.

Summary: The Accords cause you and Steve separate for a while.

Warnings: Angst, but a happy ending.

A/N: This is my gift to @jadedvibes’ Falling in love Writing Challenge.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817​ @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​ @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​  @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​ @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @marvelatthisone​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @sapphire-rogers​  @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose​ @hallecarey1​ @nana1000night​  @talia-rumlow​ @writingshae​ @alexxavicry​ @azulatodoryuga​ @daemonslittlebitch​  @chaoticcollectivenightmare​ @endlesstwanted​

Every day when you woke up, you liked to watch Steve while he was still sleeping, you were so happy with him. You could even remember when you fell in love with him.

However, the day everything changed, you realized that something would happen because when you woke up, you felt something different in the atmosphere.

Sometimes you wished your powers were precognition instead of retrocognition.

You grabbed one of the ties that Tony had tossed into the living room, and that's when you saw what had happened. Unbeknownst to anyone, Tony had met with Ross, the images after that were a little hazy, but you knew it wasn't good.

Two days after you had the vision, Stark brought them together, Ross wanted to see them all. Steve took your hand as he noticed how tense you were when you heard that man speak, you glared at the documents when he left, you needed to know exactly what was stated there.

You were horrified when you read the Agreements, if you decided to sign them, it meant you were agreeing to be locked up in the Garland Detention Center.

When you were a child, you heard about that place, if any mutant was locked up there...they were never heard from again, it was a place where they experimented on mutants.

The center was supposed to have been closed after the anti-mutant laws were retracted. You knew that some mutants had regrouped and lived in peace, and others worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. and similar organizations.

For the past twenty years, humans, mutants, and other beings had lived together in peace and harmony, up to that point. What they wanted to start was another hell.

Another fear was beginning to appear as well, whose side would Steve be on?

You were too afraid to ask him, however, that night, he began to talk about it.

“Steve, I can't sign that, it's a death sentence, it looks like they want to wipe out mutants... again," you said almost in tears.

“We won't sign it, it goes against everything we are supposed to do and what the Avengers are all about," Steve assured.

“What will we do? We'll lose everything," you whispered.

Steve caressed your face, wiping away your tears, he had always hated it when something made you cry, he didn't like you to suffer or be hurt.

“I'm going to protect you, nothing bad will happen, I promise.

It was confusing what had happened, Tony's damn robots wouldn't let you leave, you were trying to think how to escape, you knew that at any moment they would arrive to take you to the Garland Detention Center, you were not going to allow it, somehow you would run away.

You were startled when you heard the noise outside the room, however, you felt calm when you saw that it was Steve, he had come for you.

“We have to hurry, it won't take them long to notice, Clint went for Wanda," Steve explained quickly.

You arrived at a place you didn't know; however, someone was already waiting for them, and you felt relieved when you realized that they were also mutants.

“You'll be safe here, I know it's difficult, but no one knows about this place.”

“But Steve...”

“No buts, I promised you I was going to protect you.”

“Y/N will be fine here, Captain, we'll make sure of that, “Clarice said.

Two months had passed since you last saw Steve, and you hadn't heard from him.

You had even snuck out once and called the mobile phone number, but you found out it was in Stark's hands, you got rid of that mobile phone, you weren't going to let them track you down and find you.

You knew you were a fugitive, but you preferred that to betray the mutant community.

You peeked through the peephole, it wasn't Steve, but you knew the woman who was there.

You felt as if the world stopped when you heard what she told you, everything seemed to indicate that Steve had not kept his promise, but you didn't understand the reasons why he helped you either.

After Sharon left, you were left there, sitting on the couch in the foyer with a broken heart. As soon as the other mutants noticed, they made an effort to comfort you.

“I can ask Marcos to roast him when we see him “Lorna offered.

“Lorna “Marcos caught her eye.

“What? I'm trying to be nice, maybe that will help him Y/N and feel better," Polaris excused himself.

“Don't mind Lorna, I can give him a beating he'll never forget in his life “John said.

“I don't think any of that is necessary, in time everything will be fine and well, I don't know, I don't know, I'm confused.”

The only good thing about the whole situation was that you had a new family, people who were like you and accepted you, and you knew they would never betray you.

4 years later

You began to hear a lot of noise on the lower floor, although none of the alarms had sounded, so it might not be something important that put them in danger, however, the voices were getting louder, you decided to peek out, as a precaution and see if you could somehow help.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening, you even thought that your mind was playing a bad trick on you, there was Steve, but he looked very different from how you remembered him, and you swallowed saliva.

You heard that he wanted to talk to you, but the women were refusing, they were not going to let him hurt you again. It was better to put an end to the situation.

“Clarice, Lorna, Lauren, it's okay, it's not necessary," you said. They began to protest. “I'm going to talk to him, if I need you, I'll tell them.”

The women looked at each other, but left you alone with him, although they stayed close by just in case.

“What do you want? “you asked sharply.

“I found a place..." Steve began to speak, though he was puzzled by your attitude.

“Are you taking your girlfriend? "

“My girlfriend? Y/N, you are," Steve was now too confused.

“The blonde woman, you know, Sharon.”

“I haven't seen Sharon since we escaped from Germany," he clarified.

“She came over, and told me you were together.”

“You can see for yourself, you can see everything I've been through since I left you with them," Steve defended himself firmly, you knew he meant for you to use your power. "I know you still love me.”

You thought for a few seconds, using your powers was the only way you would know the truth, you put your hand on his arm and that's when you saw everything that had happened after he had left you there. He had told you the truth.

It took you a couple of hours to convince everyone of what had happened.

Steve Rogers always kept his promises.

[suffarustuffaru]

Do you have any advice for writing in the second person pov as well as advice about writing reinhard? I’m trying to write a second person pov fic from his perspective and I’m a bit lost?

yes i can do my best to give you advice!! :o hah im really flattered you thought to ask me on this? but yes i absolutely love both writing in second person (i havent written a whole finished fic in second person, but ive dabbled in it a few times, ive also started writing poetry on the side) and also of course i love reinhard!! im super super interested in the fact that youre doing a SECOND PERSON POV REINHARD FIC like woaaahhh hes definitely a fun character to choose pov wise and combining it with second person is genius. i really like it and would love to read it if you ever wanna share it when youre done <3

and yes quick disclaimer that im no professional writer but yes ill give my two cents!! and another disclaimer is that creative writing is a very individualized thing i think. theres no like one way to do things, and of course you can take any advice or criticism that youd like if you think itd help <3

ill get into second person pov first then talk more specifically about reinhard 👍

yes anyway tips on second person!! i do kinda recommend to like look at various examples of second person pov being used in various written pieces if thats something youd like to do - poetry and song lyrics use second person a LOT. especially songs, bc once you see it you cant really unsee it, i think? of course writing a narrative story is different from poetry and songwriting but it could help you give a frame of reference, or inspiration, or decide what you want to do and what you dont want to do. most importantly you could also look at other second person fics or published stories that are written in second person!!

and alright so - in general, second person is a very personal pov to choose in a way thats different from first person and third person. in first person and third person, theres still a degree of separation between the reader and the character the story is following. second person almost kind of removes that barrier bc of the use of "you" - the reader is being directly put into the character's shoes. as in, "you're" doing this, "you're" thinking this, etc etc. bc its such a personal pov, different readers might have different feelings about this (second person pov in fics is a pet peeve for some people for one reason or another), and youve committed yourself to writing second pov, you might as well go all in!! as a reader, i would be directly in that character's skin, basically, and i think its good to lean into the character youre writing especially with second person. bc theres even less separation between reader and character!! its kind of like the general pov advice of - who is this character, whats their personality like, what are they thinking, why should i care, etc etc. whats their inner world like? what is this telling me about their character?

another thing - you can choose between writing past or present tense of course, and the choice is up to you there, but i think present tense may fit second person pov more. with second person, youre directly addressing the reader for the entire story. theres a difference in urgency between "You gritted your teeth and fought off the attack" and "You grit your teeth and fight off the attack", i think. youre already putting your reader in such a personal position with the pov character - i think present tense might aid in it a lot more. another disclaimer that this is my opinion of course - but yes, i think that it also may be harder for people to suspend their disbelief with second person pov in certain circumstances. if i read past tense second person i might stop for one second and go "no, i did not grit my teeth and fight off some random attack in my past". in present tense i might be more likely to go "huh, yeah ig im fighting off this attack now. oh snap, hows this gonna go?"

of course, this isnt to say that you cant do past tense second person. as a second person pov fan i would absolutely eat up any second person fic regardless of the tense or not so long as your choice of tense stays consistent throughout the entire story (unless of course you have a good reason to change tenses mid-story). but i think that a good amount of second person works are in present tense, maybe for this very reason, unless the second person is combined with first person in like a song or something (basically every time the narrator of a song addresses the "you", like for example something like this sentence: "you broke up with me last summer"). or maybe the character is thinking about something they did in the past, so in reinhard's case it could look like "Remember when you killed your own grandmother all those months ago?" or something like that.

yeah, so - second person pov is a bit of a bold choice. it's inherently very personal and intimate. and i think theres also like the general advice of like - imo, don't use "you" too much. i know that sounds counterintuitive given this is second person pov hah but its kind of similar with something like first person - don't use "I" too much. and that also combines with the general advice of "vary your sentences". it can be awkward if every sentence has the same length and starts off the same way with the same rhythm, like this - "You go to the grocery store. You open the door. You step inside. You walk into the store."

(and quick disclaimer that if youre intending to go for that kind of monotonous sound for a part of/a lot of your story for various reasons, definitely go for it if its on purpose! i myself have done it a bit before to show a character kind of going through the motions, so to speak)

and with second person, absolutely utilize sentences or phrases or what have you that dont use "you" at all!! i think its called "implied" second person - stuff like "Look at that wall" or "Hand over that paper". so you can absolutely highlight second person pov without even using the word "you" at all and its also good to switch things up when youre writing to add a more "dynamic" quality to your work (and itll probably be fun for you to do if thats something youre into!!). so while narrative pronouns like this wont usually grate on your reader (bc we gotta use pronouns all the time for a reason, so using it a lot isnt a problem whatsoever and i highly doubt anyones gonna notice how much theyre used), definitely keep in mind not to overdo it at every turn, if that makes sense. its like the word "said" or "says" - hardly anyone is gonna notice it unless youre using it for Every Single Dialogue Line In A Row, but otherwise use it as much as you want.

getting creative with your sentence structure and the way you tell the story is important of course regardless of the pov youve chosen - and also hah sorry if that sounds really obvious but i do think its really important to remember!! :o second person may be different and less commonly used in narrative stories compared to first or third person, but some of the same rules are still gonna apply in a sense -

i think getting creative with sentences and description is even more important in second person. with first person and third person you can still have all these varying degrees of separation, especially with third person - there's like a "distant" third person that doesn't really go as far into the character's heads as much as "close" third person, where the entire third person narration can vaguely mimic the character's inner thoughts and feelings and worldviews.

second person, i think, from the get go, can mimic thoughts even more sometimes, if thats an angle you want to take - i mean have you ever like, had thoughts that were directed towards yourself or have you ever talked to yourself? or seen others do this? im talking about stuff like telling yourself "good job" or going "look what you did" at yourself in disappointment? theres also the "instructional" angle - a lot of instructions are written in second person, and a second person narrative can sound kinda like that just bc youre directly addressing your reader so much. it could definitely be fun to lean into all of this if you wanted - especially since youre writing reinhard (whos unfortunately brainwashed and conditioned to hell and back in every area of his life :<).

and second person is such a specific pov that i think you have to keep in mind why youre using second person. what is your intent in using this specific pov for this specific story? how is the story aided by your choice of pov? and i think its an extremely interesting choice for reinhard, who, as i said and as you definitely know - dudes got issues surrounding being controlled by the literal government and being pushed around!! hes a dog on a leash!! hes spent almost his whole life being ordered around everywhere, and on like, a human level maybe, hes one of the hardest people to understand.

bc yknow - reinhards dps of course give him this really unique perspective of the world. as we know, hes the FURTHEST thing for normal bc of his powers and they affect everything about his life - his relationships with other people of course but also how he perceives the world. hes perfect at Everything, he can do a whole long list of things that almost no one else can, he gets new powers every time he needs one for a given situation, he cant even fuck up telling salt from sugar, he cant lose any board game, etc etc dudes just powerless in Every Other Area of his life except for the long list of powers.

and yknow, bc of this and also trauma hes detached from others no matter how hard he tries to bridge that gap between him and other people. its why he wants to be normal so bad!! he wants friends and he likely wants freedom (why follow FELT of all royal candidates… he's 100% staked his family's redemption on her especially when you remember rom and the astrea's connection to the demihuman war, heinkel being rumored to kidnap a royal family member, reid, etc) but yknow. he cant get freedom so easily :(

which im sure you already knew all of this hah, tumblr user whygodwhy (amazing url btw) (im also saying this bc you seem like a big astrea fan as well and youve been around on rz tumblr from what i can see <3), but definitely great to keep in mind for your writing purposes bc a second person fic with (one of) THE most “inhuman” (heavy emphasis on the quotation marks here) character in rezero??? thats absolutely DIABOLICAL (complimentary) i love it. its an absolutely genius idea - we're really being pushed into understanding reinhard's perspective of having powers that make you kind of like a god. and then it makes everyone around you think youre a monster :(((

but yes like - reinhards character sets up the perfect foundation for a second person pov fic. like you can really get creative with how he experiences the world in ALL SORTS of extremely extremely off putting ways and therefore how we the reader experience REINHARD'S experiences. its super cool!!!

and i definitely think that its up to you on how you want to interpret reinhard - i think that generally even with fic authors who try to stick as closely to canon characterization as possible theres still a bit of variance you know? :o which i think is really fascinating!! especially when you take into account writing styles and all that, and especially when you take into account reinhard as a character.

atm he hasnt had a moment in rezero canon where we actually read from his pov and iirc its bc tappei said that reinhard just kinda knows Spoilery stuff? correct me if im wrong on that of course. and also iirc tappei also said that reinhard is Generally honest about what he says, so the way i see people (including myself...) write reinhard's pov matches pretty similarly with his outward self most of the time? but apart from that yknow interpret reinhard how youd like and if youre writing some sort of au or having him develop in a certain way (that isnt seen in canon), definitely go for it!! theres of course a fine balance between developing a character vs changing them to the point where it doesnt feel like the same character, but once you get to know that Base Characterization you can figure out how to go about developing them while still making them feel like themselves if thats something youre interested in!!

and for example, i think you could get creative with how using his powers looks like from his pov!! (some of which he just. doesnt think about in the sense that it just Happens - like that one dp he has where he just Knows where the exits of the building hes in are or that other dp where things thrown at him just automatically misses him.) or you know depending on what the plot for your fic is - how do you think he sees people like heinkel, wilhelm, subaru, etc, based on how he outwardly acts towards them? bc we havent seen reinhards exact pov yet in canon its kind of free real estate rn HAH and even then its fanfic, you can do what you want.

but yknow if you want to stick closer to canon, theres def the high probability that reinhard is usually honest about what he says (so his thoughts on things likely match up with what he says out loud about that exact thing). and in general if youre willing to and havent done so already i think you could check out more reinhards side stories and reinhards qnas from tappei. of course stuff like qnas you might have to take with a grain of salt (since its word of god and not always in the text yet) but you may see details that youd like to keep in mind or even use in your fic!!

and i think its good in general to make your own interpretation and know how you want to write reinhard based on that interpretation. i also recommend if you want to to maybe check out other reinhard pov fics to maybe find some inspiration or note how youd also want to interpret reinhards pov. you could note stuff like "hey, i like how this author describes how reinhards dp of empathy works" or "i like how matter of fact reinhards internal dialogue sounds here" - that sort of thing. but i definitely do think that if you want to be in character, definitely try to come to your own conclusions as well based on canon!!

as for other general advice, rereading or rewatching reinhard scenes may help you as well. i definitely recommend taking mental or physical (whether youre typing it up or writing it down physically) notes or something if that would help you. something that personally helps me (and you can do this if you want) is that every time im trying to learn a characters dialogue and how they usually speak is that i go to reread/rewatch a scene theyre in. i usually choose english dub if i can since im writing in english and then i just note down stuff like what kind of words they use, what reoccurring words or phrases do they use a lot, etc etc. so if youre struggling with dialogue or something, this is something you could try!!

reinhard does speak a little professionally/formally, with a little emotional distance, if that makes sense (i think the most obvious example is him Sounding too composed after dying and coming back in arc 5?). like the dude sounds like hes in customer service mode Near Constantly, if that also makes sense (....well he IS the sword saint HAH), even if hes actually upset about something. i think one of the biggest cracks in his customer service facade though is when hes either quietly depressed in front of his family or when he gets upset about the arc 3 julisuba duel (like he actually RAISES HIS VOICE A BIT and is obviously upset when talking to subaru after the duel. literally insane). also ofc when hes in serious "damn i guess you gotta die" mode :(

but yes i think that reinhard speaks formally but he tries to be way more casual about it yknow? julius is the one whos more flowery, that pretentious prick!!! (affectionate) (read this line in a subaru voice). reinhard will be like "hello, it's nice to meet you :) oh, please, call me reinhard :)))) no need for honorifics, we are friends here :)))) (pls treat me like a normal person ahahahah im begging you) (we're friends right? pls be my friend. pretty pls. im begging -)" and julius will be like "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." bc hes flowery <33 a slight purple prose thats as purple as his hair (affectionate)

and yep as for internal dialogue, again, you can interpret how reinhard would think in a lot of different ways and its up to you on how you want to explore him and what we know of him from canon so far!!

and you know, a lot of writing is just a lot of practice, and i guarantee you that the more you write a character the more comfortable youll get!! speaking as someone who has done so much writing in private to get comfortable with writing dialogue for people like otto or reinhard or subaru (and even then i still try really hard to adjust if i feel theyre getting out of character hah, theyre still hard to write fr :<). so yeah i def recommend to you know just give your best go at it and have fun while you do!! you can always go back and edit and if you need a betareader or smth you can def ask around. i would be down if you needed one!!

also i did write a small little blurb if you want an example of combining how to write second pov and how to write reinhard :O !! i do think that every writer is different of course but i just wanted to leave an example just in case itd help you!! i Think this is well written enough for example purposes hah:

Remember when you killed your grandmother all those months ago? Fist through her chest, familial blood splattering all over your only family. As her body falls limp, Grandfather catches her right when she’s gasping out her last words and turning to dust like the ash left in the wake of when you first killed her years ago.

The only difference is that it was a necessary evil this time.

yep so - in conclusion, fuck around (research various things if you need to) and find out (practice and have fun) <333 i hope this helps and feel free to reach out if you ever wanna ask more stuff :o !!

[theautisticfroglord]

From The Moment We Met

pairing - yami x william (high school au)

fic type - fluff mixed with angst

warnings - bullying mention, slight cliche, lots of kissing

notes - this is my longest fic ever at over 2000 words! Anyways @kray-dragon hey pookie

William Vangeance is a junior at the high school he goes to. He does well in his classes, but there’s an issue. It’s hard for William to make friends because of his scars. This has led to him distancing from his classmates. He’s sad that he has to do this, but it seems to be the only thing he can do.

William has been bullied and isolated for his scars as well, causing him to be shy, and not able to socialize very well. He’s neither had a partner before, nor a crush. William also hasn’t had very many friends.

One day, he’s walking to his class as usual. Suddenly, he bumps into someone. William drops his books and he scrambles at the ground, picking them up. When he manages to pick up the books he dropped, he finally looks up at the tall person he bumped into. It’s Yami Sukehiro, a classmate of his. Yami also does well in his classes, but he isn’t the best.

“Heh, watch where you’re going,” Yami chuckles lightheartedly as William tenses up, feeling nervous. He isn’t used to having people talk to him like this, so he thinks he’s upset at him.

“O-Of course, please forgive me,” William stammers, walking past him. Yami looks back at him, wanting to ask him questions about him, like why he has those scars. He feels strangely intrigued by him. He’ll have to ask another time.

A couple days later, William still hasn’t forgotten about what happened. He felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw the stranger who he bumped into. He knows it’s not just anxiety, but he doesn’t completely know what else that feeling could have been.

As he walks through the hallway, he begins spacing out again as he still thinks about the incident. Then, he bumps into that same stranger as before. He falls to the ground this time, scrambling to pick up his books again.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” William starts, but then something unexpected happens. The person begins picking up his books for him. He looks at him, finally seeing his face clearly. William doesn’t notice that he’s blushing as that same feeling starts to rush through him again.

“Here you go, you’re really clumsy, huh?” Yami gives William his books.

“Also, it’s alright, I can tell you’re not doing this on purpose,” he laughs as William is still flustered, and he notices. Yami starts to feel butterflies in his stomach, as well. He’s had a couple of crushes before, but none of them were also men, so he wonders why he feels this way. William starts to walk off, again.

“Hey, wait, what’s your name?” Yami stops William. He pauses for a few moments.

“U-Um, it’s William Vangeance, and what’s yours?” he answers, looking back at him shyly.

“The name’s Yami Sukehiro, it's nice to meet you,” Yami chuckles before walking off in the opposite direction. William hurries off to his class. He wonders why he feels this type of nervousness only around Yami. He doesn’t feel this way around other classmates of his. Then, the next day, it finally comes to him. He’s in love.

William thinks he doesn’t have a chance with Yami, though. He just met him, and he also thinks that he’ll get pushed away by him for liking him while also being a man. William lays in his bed, crying into his pillow while thinking about Yami.

He hates this new feeling of love and desperation, but at the same time it feels right. In his spare time, he writes about his love for him. He puts all his feelings on paper because it’s the only way he feels he can express his love and sorrow.

Yami is in the hallway, at his locker, when William walks by him. He doesn’t notice Yami surprisingly. But, Yami sees him, and feels tempted to talk to him. He doesn’t want to scare him, though, so he just continues standing there.

Then, he sees a piece of paper fall out of William’s backpack, and he picks it up. Yami doesn’t manage to get himself to tell William that he dropped something, so he keeps the paper.

Yami feels as if he doesn’t have a chance with William, because he’s really isolated from everybody else. Yami assumes that William doesn’t like talking to people, and he won’t like him socializing with him. He feels like he needs to be with him.

Yami hasn’t had a crush in a long time, and he’s never had a crush on another man before, so he feels as if William would think he’s weird for feeling romantic towards him. Yami and William feel the same way about each other, and neither of them know, yet.

Yami finally has time to look at the paper that William dropped out of curiosity, assuming it’s just homework, or a study guide. He unfolds the paper, and it’s all writing.

As Yami reads through the paper, he blushes in surprise. The writing is about William’s love for him. He wonders if it’s somebody else, but then he sees a sentence that confirms that this writing is about him.

“Yami Sukehiro, I hope that just maybe, one day, you’ll love me in the same way I love you.” The paper ends with that sentence. Yami reads it through again, unable to believe that William loves him back. He ponders, hoping that this isn’t a trick, that he truly feels the same way that he does. The words replay through his head over and over.

The next day, William is walking through the hallway, not knowing that one of his personal writings fell out of his backpack yesterday. Yami walks by as well, feeling tempted to ask William about the paper, but he worries that he will be scared of him for finding out about his feelings.

“Uh… so, how’s it been going?” Yami asks, nervous and trying to make small talk.

“It’s been alright, I guess… and you?” William asks back, flustered that Yami is casually talking to him.

“I’ve been doing alright… say, do you want to get lunch together this weekend?” Yami proposes, trying not to seem flustered by him, which he is.

“S-Sure!” William answers with a soft smile, feeling overjoyed about how he’s being so friendly with him, but at the same time, he’s also nervous, wondering if he actually wants to be friends. Later that evening, they both are excited to go out tomorrow.

The next morning, William gets into a casual outfit to go out. Once he’s ready, he makes his way to the restaurant Yami proposed to go to. Once he’s there, he waits by the entrance, wondering when Yami will be there. William starts to worry after a little bit, wondering if he stood him up, if he forgot. Then, a familiar voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Yami sighs, walking up to him. William blushes at his presence. They both go into the diner together and get some food. Then, they go to a table together. Yami plans on asking William a few questions.

“If you don’t mind, how did you get those scars?” he asks, hoping not to make him too nervous.

“W-Well… I was born with these… I’ve been isolated because of them,” William mumbles, trying not to look at him as he worries that Yami doesn’t like him because of them.

“They’re really interesting to look at,” Yami sighs before looking away from him, hiding his embarrassment at what he just said. He worries that William is starting to catch on. As for William, he feels slightly flustered because he’s never been complimented for his scars before. He starts to fidget with his hands. After a few moments, Yami breaks the silence.

“Also… I have something to ask you,” Yami starts, his heart pounding in his chest, completely nervous about what he’s about to tell William.

“I saw a piece of paper fall out of your bag, and I couldn’t get you to come back and get it, so I kept it… I saw some things on that paper, well… I’ll just show you,” Yami explains before taking the folded-up piece of writing out of his pocket. He unfolds it and slides it over to William.

His heart drops as he recognizes the writing. He wonders how Yami got ahold of it. William’s face turns a deep shade of red as he stands up, unable to speak. He runs into the bathroom in a panic.

Yami feels remorseful that he embarrassed him like that, not realizing that he would react in that way. He walks into the bathroom, as well, hoping to talk to him. Yami hears crying from an empty stall, so he peeks in and sees William sitting on the floor, his knees tucked to his chest. He doesn’t notice Yami in the stall with him.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry I did that, I wasn’t finished with what I was saying,” Yami sighs, as William jumps at the sound of his voice.

“I’m such a freak… I’m so sorry you had to see that, please don’t hurt me…” William quietly sobs remorsefully, thinking that Yami hates him now. Suddenly, he feels Yami softly petting his blond hair. He looks up at him with tear stains on his face. Yami sighs, noticing how he’s still so beautiful, even when he’s a mess.

“I love you, too… why would I hurt you? You’ve done nothing wrong,” Yami admits, holding his hand and noticing how it fits in his perfectly. Then, to his surprise, William pulls him in and kisses him. After a moment, he slightly panics, realizing what he did, and begins to pull away for a second. Then, before he can, Yami kisses him back.

William didn’t expect his first kiss to happen anytime soon, much less on the floor of a bathroom stall in a diner. Yami didn't expect this outcome, either, but neither of them are complaining.

He leans into him more, wrapping his arm around him. William is very flustered by how he's finally getting affection from someone. Yami helps William up off the floor as he continues to kiss him. He notices how he's surprisingly light, so he picks him up in his arms.

William gasps into the kiss as he feels himself getting lifted off the ground. Yami takes a break from the kiss for a moment.

“How's this for a date?” Yami laughs, continuing to hold him. William could hardly get a word out because of how flustered he is. He starts kissing him again as he wraps his arms around him tighter. After a few minutes, Yami finally lets go of him.

“T-That was… nice…” William pants, still trying to catch his breath.

“How about… We go out again sometime…” Yami chuckles breathlessly. William nods in response. They walk out together, holding hands.

A couple days later, William is walking through the halls again when he suddenly feels someone grab his hand. He turns around to see it's Yami.

“Hey, Goldie,” Yami chuckles, pulling him close.

“G-Goldie?” William chuckles, slightly confused.

“Just a nickname I gave you,” Yami smiles, kissing him on the forehead. William is still flustered by affection, so he blushes whenever he’s held. Yami adores this, and holds him often because of it.

“Y-You know… I have more papers that… say how much I love you, do you want to read them later?” William asks, looking up at him lovingly.

“Of course,” Yami sighs, placing a hand on his cheek. William notices the look in Yami's amber eyes, comforted by how loving he is towards him. He's never had this before, and he's thankful. After a few moments, William pulls away from his chest, and walks to class again.

Later that day, William is at the same diner, waiting for Yami to arrive. Once he does, he walks over and hugs him.

“Hey Goldie, do you have those papers so we can read them together?” Yami asks.

“Yes, let's go into the bathroom to read them, though, I'm a little embarrassed of other people seeing them,” William chuckles, blushing a little. They go back into the bathroom together, and sit in the corner.

As they read through the letters together, Yami is blushing at how affectionate they are. William is blushing in slight embarrassment, but also with happiness at his love for him being shared. He leans against his shoulder, sweetly looking up at him.

After Yami is done reading the last page, he kisses William again. He holds his hand, rubbing it comfortingly. Yami begins to show his soft side to William. He cups his face in his hands as he holds him in his lap. After a few moments, he pulls away from the kiss.

“I love you so much, Goldie,” Yami whispers before letting him off his lap.

“I love you too,” William sighs, putting the pages back into his backpack. They both stand up and walk out of the diner, holding hands once again.

“So, this can be our meeting place?” William chuckles.

“That sounds good, I'll see you at school tomorrow,” Yami laughs, walking off. William has finally found a partner, and someone who makes his days better.

[psyduc]

the terror hockey au

it's the way.... i've been thinking about this.......... also shoutout to the fic white carnations because they did this before me BUT. RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT

there is no organization here we are sharing our thoughts like they are coming out of a faucet with a broken knob

blanky was a goalie and a really good one too- and one who wasn't afraid to push back or start shit, you know? played until he was 40 when a terrible knee injury forced him into retirement. he still visits the rink to say hi to francis- and even though his doctor says he can't be back on the ice, he still goes out there on occasion to help thomas hartnell practice <3

francis was the alternate and then captain for... The Terrors (it has to be The Terrors right. it just has to be). helped them get two stanley cups, had a notoriously disastrous final season. like "got really drunk, started a huge fight on the ice, even fought the refs" sort of disastrous that cut his career short. after getting sober, he put the work in and was able to get a job as manager. well, co-manager

fitzjames is the other manager. he has never managed a sports team in his life and when he starts, knows very little about hockey (he confuses icing for offsiding. francis can't stand him)

graham is the captain. he is great. everyone loves graham. even people on other teams respect the guy. has a nasty history with getting concussed on the ice though, so whenever he gets hit, it's a very tense moment for everyone and his team is not happy about it

collins, morfin, manson, heather, and pilkington are defensemen

irving, peglar, hodgson and armitage are right and left wingers

tozer and little are centers. tozer is also alternate captain, and there's talk of making little an alternate too, but he gets queasy at the thought

we're ignoring that this is not a full roster for a team okay we are playing fast and loose here

jopson is the equipment manager and he runs that shit so tight. he only allows gibson to help with the skates and even then, he's keeping a close eye on him

hickey was an ahl player that got suspended for playing real dirty. somehow, he has talked himself into a job with The Terrors. he's only the water boy for now, but he has big plans

chambers and young are two ahl players that came up for a couple of games before being sent back down for training

The Terror's mascot is a Newfoundland dog named Neptune. it's always a good day when Francis brings his actual dog of the same name into the arena

dundy and bridgens are the rink side reporters/announcers

hodgson has a history of lower body injuries. like he's always out for a good chunk of the season, but he's such a good player (and good for morale, even if he goes on and on about his newest niche hobby) that they keep him around

almost all of collins and morfin's teeth are fake- they lost their real ones after several puck related incidents. collins has permanent implants, morfin takes his out for the games

tartnell is their goalie and is not afraid to whack people with his stick if they get too close to the crease

The Terrors have not made it past the first round of playoffs in 20 something years. something terrible always ends up happening- last year, little took a nasty hit and broke his wrist and collarbone. the year before, heather had a concussion that kept him out all season. it's always something

i don't have a way to end this. i just. i can see it, you know, these men on the ice crashing into each other and finding and making each other bleed and wow it's just like the show except no cannibalism or colonialism. probably still some lead poisoning though, maybe that's why they keep losing

[roxannarambles]

teal mask fixit-fic on the fly part 6

(Current story so far: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5)

Kieran just ran for a while, not really paying attention to where he was going. He just knew he had to get away.

He kept going until he'd dashed across Kitakami Hall and past most of the food vendors, coming to rest at a secluded spot with benches, lit by the cheery lanturns overhead. No one was here, so he sat at one of the benches, curling his knees up and squeezing into a little ball, closing his eyes. He tried not to cry, he really did, but he felt the hot track of tears running down his cheeks anyway. He whimpered, trying to push all the awful thoughts away. He didn't know how long he sat there like that.

So lost in his own misery, it took him a while to even realize someone was repeating his name. Startled, he looked up, seeing it was one of the Naranja exchange students-- the quiet girl named Penny, who had dyed red-and-blue hair and big, owlish glasses. He didn't know much about her, since he'd really only seen her while within a larger group, and she hasn't spoken much during that time. He knew she had a kind face, though, and she was now gazing at him with concern marring her pretty features.

Oh, perfect; she caught him sitting here crying like a small child. Now every Naranja student knew how pathetic he was, it seemed.

"H-hey, are you okay? Well, that, um, that was a dumb question, I guess. Sorry. Obviously you're not, but . . ."

The girl sighed, starting again.

"What's wrong? Nemona and I have been looking all over for the rest of you, we were worried something happened."

Kieran turned away from her, swiping at his tear-stained face.

"I-I . . . Carmine and your other friends are fine, don't worry. They're just . . . chatting. You can find them past Kitakami Hall, near the path to the Oni Mountains."

He waited for her to thank him and leave, but she remained standing there.

"Okay, but . . . what about you?"

He sniffled and used his sleeve to mop up the rest of his tears. He mumbled,

"What d'you mean?"

The girl sat down on the bench beside him. He tensed up. She answered gently,

"I mean, you're clearly really upset about something. What happened?"

He briefly considered telling her, but the thought was rejected.

"It's not important, I-I just . . . you don't have to worry about it, you can go join your friends."

There was a pause.

"Eh, I'm not too worried about catching up to them. I mean, I see those guys all the time anyway."

Kieran dared to look back up at the girl. She smiled softly at him. He looked down again, hiding his face. After an awkward pause, the girl said,

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You wanna do something else?"

Slowly, hesitantly, he asked,

"Like what?"

She paused again.

"I dunno, is there something else you wanna do at the festival tonight? We could go win one of those dorky prizes at the game corner."

Kieran shook his head.

"Nobody can win those. Even Carmine can't do it. Not unless you spend way too much money on them."

The girl chuckled, for some reason finding that amusing. Kieran cast her a curious glance. There was a glint of confidance in her eyes.

"You haven't seen me give it a shot yet."

He was not convinced. This girl didn't know what festival games were like, they were so much harder then they seemed. Still, it felt rude to just tell her that. Not when she was sitting here trying to do something nice for him.

So he just shrugged and said,

"Guess we could go try."

They left the benches and headed over to the games corner. Kieran expected Penny to make smalltalk along the way, like most people did, but she remained silent. It was surprising, but honestly kind of nice. He wasn't feeling much like chitchat right now anyway.

When they reached the game booths, Penny asked Kieran to pick a game. Kieran considered the choice seriously, before pointing to one.

"Milk bottle toss? Okay. That should be doable," she said, heading over.

They paid the man behind the booth a coin and he set the milk bottles up for them in a three-bottle pyramid, before handing them a basket full of balls.

"So. The goal of the game is simple. Knock down all three bottles in one throw. Yeah?"

Kieran nodded.

"Yeah. Sounds really simple, but it's not as easy as it seems."

He probably tried to play this game dozens of times in the past. His sister, too. They grew bored of the game and eventually gave up on it, like most of the booths in the game corner. It wasn't really worth the money.

Penny said,

"Okay. I'm gonna call this one my test throw. I don't expect to win anything, I just want to get a feel for it first."

Kieran nodded.

"All right."

He watched Penny closely as she picked up one of the soft, fake pokeballs from the basket and studied the milk bottles for a while. Then she took aim and tossed the ball. The ball struck the upper part of the top milk bottle; the plastic bottle swayed backwards but then righted itself, leaving all three bottles still remaining.

"Oooh, too bad," the man sitting at the booth said. Kieran turned and gave Penny a sympathetic smile. Penny didn't look at all discouraged at the terrible shot, though.

"Perfect," she said.

Kieran said,

"Um?"

She turned and leaned in a little closer to him, in a conspiring sort of way. She murmured,

"So did you see how the bottle moved when I hit the very top of it?"

Kieran's face warmed a little.

"Uh . . . it sorta . . . wobbled?"

"Exactly," she said,

"Wobbled kinda weird, right? Those aren't typical bottles of Moo Moo Milk. They're actually weighted on the bottom a little. Makes them a lot harder to knock over and it messes up how you estimate your throws."

Kieran blinked. He suddenly remembered one afternoon when his sister and he had set up their own stack of Moo Moo Milks and practiced tossing balls at it. His sister had raged when trying it out at the actual festival still didn't yeild her an immediate win.

"So what you wanna do is aim at the very bottom of the stack, in the dead middle. Those will give the best odds."

He nodded. She added,

"One other thing."

She zipped open the little bag she had and pulled a pokeball from the pouch, then slipped it into Kieran's hands before the man at the booth could see it. Kieran gave her a questioning look and she murmured to him,

"The other thing that makes this game so hard is they intentionally use those ridiculously light foam balls. They have like zero weight to them. You'll have a way better chance with an acual pokeball."

Kieran hesitated before whispering,

"Isn't that, u-um, isn't this cheating?"

She laughed a little.

"I mean . . . they intentionally rig these games and present them in a very deceptive way. All we're really doing is leveling the playing field, right?"

Kieran considered that a moment. Honestly, she had a point.

Penny continued,

"My throws are accurate, but I have weak nerd arms, so we're probably better off if you throw. I want you to try and hit the bottom middle as hard as you can while staying accurate. Think you can do that?"

Kieran looked to her and nodded, expression serious.

"Ok, great."

She paid the man at the booth for another throw, and then Kieran stepped into place. He felt nervous, but he also felt determined. He took the time to take a slow breath in and out. He focused on where he needed to throw and drew his arm back.

Then he threw the pokeball like he was spiking that thing in a game of volleyball. It smashed into the center and the milk bottles went flying all directions. The man at the booth sprang from his stool and cried,

"Holy shi--uh-- dang, kid, nice shot!"

Kieran stared, in awe of his own success.

"W-wozers," he muttered. Penny cast him a glance, brow raised. She repeated,

"Wowzers?"

He glanced away and slumped a little, ready to be mocked. But when Penny laughed, somehow it didn't sound mean-spirited at all.

"That's so cringey. I love it."

He looked to her again, her eyes sincere and her smile sweet. He smiled back at her.

The voice of the game man interrupted.

"Well, what'll it be, kid? You got it in one shot, so you earn a prize!"

"O-oh . . . hm . . ."

He looked up at the prizes hanging from the back of the booth wall. He'd never actually had a chance to choose one before. Most of them were rather cheap or goofy-- giant hats, inflatable sports balls, yo-yos, noisemakers and other assorted toys, and plenty of masks, of course. There were some pokemon plushies as well, especially of the more popular ones. Kieran turned to Penny and asked,

"W-well, um, do you h-have a favorite pokemon?"

She glanced away shyly and smiled.

"Um, yeah, I . . . I like Eevee."

Kieran asked the man for an Eevee plushie. Once he was handed one, Kieran turned and gave it to Penny. She took it and gave him a smile-- one that crinkled her eyes in warmth and brought little dimples to her cheeks.

"You don't have to give it to me, you know, we came here to cheer you up," she pointed out. He gave a timid laugh.

"Yeah. It worked."

[belong2human-kind]

| FIC SHARING |

Description: platonic, soft, angst, adult Sabine Wren, adult Ezra Bridger, jedi and mandalorian duo;

Sabine's fear

Context: after years apart, Bridger is finally back and reunited with his found family he missed so deeply. But wrong to think this means easy times are coming; unfortunately Thrawn could not be captured yet. The biggest threat to the rise of a new empire is walking around, freely, spreading ideas and inspiring the corrupted minds left behind by Vader and Palpatine's fall. Sometimes, there are things that only a jedi can do. Sabine is fully aware of this, but it doesn't make easier for her to deal with her biggest fears from the past striking back at her. Especially when they involve how sensitive she is about her best friend.

[ ... ]

During the meet up, her body was there, but her mind was somewhere else, away from all of that, almost like Sabine already knew what future held for her. She was physically exhausted of all of those meetings, tired of her new chaotic life, distressed by the fact that she spent years missing her best friend's presence, and once he was finally back, she couldn't enjoy time with him because the threat of a war was knocking on the door. Again. She survived so many wars until now, she had fought and lost so much. How much more would she need to give? Could she ever really be at peace?

Her thoughts snapped back at reality once Hera's voice trembled.

—Ezra. This one is on you.

Hera's voice sounded conflict, and it was visible: her body posture tense, tired as well, intimidated by her own words, scared of all the possible outcomes. She, like Sabine, had also spent years without the boy who had grown on her as much as her own son. Sending him on a solo mission was still scary for her, but she had no other choice. None of them had.

Ezra kept a calm smile in his face, nodding to Hera, although he could feel how tense she was. And once realization hit Sabine, her eyes wided and her mouth dropped, speechless. Ezra felt her disturbance growing, but before he could look at her, Sabine made her voice loud, shouting in protest.

—He's not going. I'm going.

—Sabine... —Hera started, as people started dissipating. —This mission is assigned to him, dear.

She said in a soft manner, calling Sabine a sweet nickname. She developed that habit since Kanan's passing, being softer on Sabine during their grieving times together. Ezra held a concerned look in his face, now directly staring silent at his friend. She was in pain, as much as she fought to no let anyone else there see it.

—Hera, don't start now, nuh-uh. Not happening. You know I won't turn this one down and obey you. Sorry.

Sabine said a little bit harshly, putting her helmet on, as she would always do in her personal attempt to hide, run away and protect her body to avoid dealing with conflictuous feelings, immediately directing herself to the flying station where Ezra was supposed to go, avoiding any contact. She was determined; she wouldn't let him go, not this time.

Both him and Hera left out a big sigh, and she was already getting mentally prepared to have a talk with Sabine, when Ezra called her out.

—Hey, don't worry. I'll go talk to her. I think she needs to hear from me now.

With a nod, she accepted.

—Thank you honey. Good luck on this. And on your mission too. Remember to be safe back there and-

Ezra walked towards Hera giving her a playful squeeze, like a grown-up son comforting his mom.

—I will come back Hera. Thanks for trusting me. —He spoke with confidence and caring.

—You know I always will. We all do, Ezra. She trusts you too, she is just-

—I know she does. I have never slightly doubted. —He interrupts. —I'll go now. May the force be with you.

Hera gave him a faded smile, muttering him a low "Be safe" and "may the force be with you too" as he left. Not too steps away, he found Sabine, breathing heavily while picking up her purse to get on the ship.

— Are we stealing each other's missions now? —He started, leaning towards the ship and staring at her. —Great, cause the one you were assigned was so much more cooler anyways.

She did not answer him back, trying her hardest to ignore. But one thing this blue haired man was especially good at was getting the mandalorian warrior's attention.

—Hey Bine, if were switching missions, can I have your guns? It's not like you don't already have my old saber, I think it would be fair, you know, if you-

—Ezra. Stop.

She demanded in a serious tone, taking her helmet off. His smile got smaller as he saw how trembling her skin was, although she looked mad, he could see that she was hurt. Her mind probably wasn't being kind on her.

—You're shaking. —He said calmly.

—You're a good observer. Now, anything else?

Silence filled the spaces between them, and with a deep sigh, he chose the words on his mind carefully.

—Sabine.... you know I have to go.

—Fine. Yeah.

More silence. Ezra stepped closer, his concerned face only growing more as her reaction was even colder and distant. She was trying so hard to not make it obvious. And yet it still was.

—Fine?

—Yes. You go, I go. Simple. You're not going alone.

—Bine...

—We're losing time. Let's go.

She tried to walk away towards the ship, but Ezra gently held her arm, making her slightly more irritated.

—Ezra, let go. We'll be late.

—Sabine, I need to go.

—No. Shut up. You stop right there. —She used her pointer finger to make sure he would back off, but it didn't work. Ezra placed his hand on her shoulder, as she spoke, trying to call her out as she continued speaking. —I'm not letting you go alone, why is it so complicated to get that?

She sounded so frustrated and distressed, holding back so badly from breaking down.

—Bine, I know how scared you are about—

—Oh no, you do not know, you have no idea how-

Her words came out so harshly that Ezra's mouth collapsed together, shutting immediately and having him step back worried. She notice immediately and tears began to form in her eyes, and she looked down desperately.

—Ezra, no, I'm- I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry. —Her tune went low again while mumbling.

—Don't worry. I know. —He reaffirmed calmly, almost whispering as he got close to her again. —And you're not really wrong Sabine, I do not know how bad I affected you when I decided to leave that day. I can have an idea, like I had back then, but... in the end of the day, I can only know how I felt doing that. I see your hurting, I sense it. But you're the one feeling.

A tear fell down her cheek as she tried to look away, trying to stop more of them from coming. Ezra chuckled seeing her failing.

—I'm going to punch you. —She said joking and feeling his hand at her cheek.

—Well if makes you feel better, I guess I can handle that. —He chuckled as he dried her tear.

—I... I don't want you to go. —She whispered.

—I know. —He murmured as low as her.

—I don't want to lose you again.

They stood in silence for instances before Ezra stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a cozy hug that she gladly accepted.

—You know that you never will really lose me, right Sabine?

She kept in silence as her body betrayed her with more tears, ones she was not proud of, but she let them be.

—Time and space can make our ways separate, but... something I learned from Kanan was that people we love are never really gone, you know? You will always have me, even if not physically, you will always be part of my story as I am part of yours. I'll always carry a bit of you in me and the same goes for you. I will never be really gone. I promise, okay?

His words were comforting, he had always been pretty good on that. But she didn't want that. She wanted assurance. She wanted certainty.

—Can you promise me now that you will come back?

—You know I cannot.

She broke the hug, her face holding up a mixture of despair, confusion and anger.

—What?

—I can never guarantee you when I will be back Sabine. It's not possible to predict that. I take my promises pretty seriously, you know that. I won't make you a promise I may not be able to honor.

—You know what? I hate you and Ahsoka's jedi stuff. It gets to my core in a way I don't think you can understand. —She rushed out frustrated, making Ezra laugh and she punch his shoulder. —Ezra!

—I'm so sorry, I can't handle, it's too funny.

—How can you laugh? How can you be so calm and unbothered about this?

He smiled patiently at his best friend, looking up for some seconds, almost getting lost in a thought.

—I'm not sure? —He said with a warming giggle. —I guess this can be Kanan's influence on me. It's not like I'm not scared of losing you, I am. I missed you badly those years, it was... pretty rough on not knowing whether you were safe or not, not knowing if the crew survived, and if in the end I'd get to reunite and see you again, be with all of you, you know? But I had to do. I had to do what I did, or else you and everyone I love, our crew, my people, my planet... nothing would survive. I had to risk and have faith on you. Faith that you'd be okay, taking care of everyone and yourself. I couldn't guarantee that I was coming back, just like I can't guarantee now or ever, and if it was only on me, I'd always come back, I actually wouldn't leave your side. I can guarantee, though, that you'll never lose me. I hope you can understand that someday.

She held back tears, holding him in a hug again.

—Would it kill you reassuring me that you'll be save and back? Ugh, I'm about to kill you myself. —She joked.

Ezra held his friend as soft and tight as he could, in hope he could comfort not only her mind and body, but her aching soul.

—I will always try to come back to you, Sabine. And you will never lose me. I promise. —He said laying a kiss on top of her head.

—You idiot.

[ . ]

Hey guys!! How are you my sweeties?? I hope you can enjoy this small fic idea I had for those two☺

I love them so much😭😭

Because of the new Ahsoka series episodes, I decided to keep this one in a totally platonic zone, but to my fellow shipper friends, don't worry: I also had ideas of these two dorks being hopelessly in love! And also for my Lotie Au!!

I'm sorry for all the non-shippers if still looks romantic though, but I cannot put myself to write Ezra referring to her as a sibling 😭 although, I did try my best to make this fic enjoyable to all the fans! Both the shippers (like myself) and the non-shippers that support them as just friends. I love this pairing since episode one, so please, be gentle with my kids 🥺🥹

They went through so much, and independently of how they call their relationship status, one thing is obvious: Sabine Wren loves Ezra Bridger, Ezra Bridger loves Sabine Wren. Although some may seem different forms of love, if their conection is more Agape or more Eros, we can all agree that they love each other, huh??

I hope you can enjoy 🌻 Stay safe and well, and May the force be with you, always ☺

[gemglyph]

Martyr: Sky's Father

TW: Child abuse, Child neglect

I'm honestly not certain that this will be touched on too much more in the story. I know I have mentioned a few things about Sky's Father, and I think it will help explain a little bit about Sky's... parental issues/authority issues. I don't remember if I tagged this stuff in the fic, or if I need to?

Let me know if I do. I'll be happy to update the tags. (I might end up doing that for chapter ten anyway so please be on the lookout)

Analysis below the Read More

Here are the times that Sky mentions his "Father"

Chapter Four: Haircut

“I use hair product to keep it down and manageable. My mom died before she could teach me and my father.. Nevermind.” Why is he saying this? He doesn’t know. At least he cuts himself short.

Chapter Six: Shred of Courage

This… Ignites an argument. That Sky simply lets happen. He doesn’t even make so much as a twitch to intervene as he blots out what the Veteran and the Rancher say to each other. Gripping his hand over his heart and squeezing his shirt. Feeling the texture and discomfort of the action. It’s like when his parents-

Chapter Seven: Apologies

“I mean- I mean you look like my father.” Frustration bubbles up and Sky looks away from the Captain. “It’s wrong to compare you to him… My father wasn’t a good man.” Not that… Warriors started out as a good man to him either. "To everyone around us I was a strange and sickly child, to my mother I was a blessing…” Sky mumbles the last part. “And to my father, I was a curse.”

We will start with.

Curse.

No. No… I'll end with Curse.

Born with the ability to See (Sights/Dreams), Sky has always been a little bit of an oddball. Talking about things kids his age shouldn't really know. Having an insane sense of intuition. Knowing things that he really shouldn't know. His Mother called them blessings, encouraged Sky in his abilities... and his Father was wary about it at first.

His Father had wanted a normal child.

Sky is not 'normal'.

Things really hit the shitshow when Sky predicted his Mother's death when he was small. It had been what Sky had thought was a nightmare. He had talked about it where his Father heard him. Sky's Mother would always defend him. She always had his back. Sky was always uncomfortable around his Father, so he would take comfort in his Mother's presence.

As predicted, his Mother got sick and she died.

When Sky's Mother died, Sky's Father truly started lashing out at Sky- despite the fact that it wasn't his kid's fault. Which partially reinforced Sky's idea that well, his Sights aren't warnings or things that he can change: They're Absolutes. They're not something he should talk about. They're not something people will believe.

Which is partially why when Wars was asking Sky if he was a "liability" it hit harder, harder than Wars had meant. Something that Sky was already self-conscious and sensitive about was being pressed on.. When he already isn't in a good mental space.

It has been mentioned a few times in Martyr, but Sky was a sickly child. His Father started outright neglecting him, despite the fact he was sickly, and would actually hit Sky if he complained or attempted talking. "Forgetting" to feed Sky or care for him at all. Refusing to help Sky when he needed it. Telling Sky that he should never talk about his Sights- least he curse everyone by speaking them into existence.

For this reason, Sky steadily gets mute the more stress he's under. Abandons conversations when he feels they're bad. Skittish around Authority Figures. The only reason he didn't outright silence himself in Chapter Nine is because he was forcing himself to speak. He was- more importantly- ‘defending’ someone who wasn’t himself.

He can’t defend himself.

If you’re wondering by now why Sky’s Father is past tense in Martyr, I unfortunately cannot tell you. Because that is between Sky’s Father’s Loftwing and Hylia. After all, Loftwings are protectors first and foremost.

To Hylia and his Mother, Sky's Sights are a blessing. His Mother died believing in him. To his Father, he was a Curse.

Demise cursed Sky.

Who would want to love a Curse?

[depressedbagpipe]

"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)

Prologue

Words: 1532 Warnings: mentions of guns, the mafia, terrorists, mentions of past deaths, foul language. A/N: I'm silently dropping this prologue as a little teaser while I work on my other fics, hope you guys enjoy it ;) also please i do not have any affiliation with the mafia, this is pure fiction :'( Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift

Series masterlist Next chapter

Billy’s POV

Nobody talked while we waited. The vastly decorated conference room was far too large and exquisite for the four men who occupied the seats. We simply stared at each other, silent, calculating all the ways bones could break seemingly as an accident. I lay on the back of my chair, relaxed. The barrel of my gun poked my side, but I didn’t move. 

The door suddenly opened, and Richard Alcaide walked through it. He was smiling at us, but his tense shoulders revealed his true nature; he was fucking terrified.

‘Mr. Russo,’ he walked to me, his arms wide open. 

I stood up, fixing my suit as he welcomed me into a quick hug. 

None of his affections were real, that much we all knew. I could feel his arms slightly patting my back, an innocent gesture to the untrained eye, but I knew better. His fingers quickly grazed the rear sight of my gun, now dangerously close to falling down, but his hand didn’t shake. I too had glanced at the two holsters under his arms when he approached me, knowing he wouldn’t come unprotected. So had the two men sitting at the other end of the table, the spitting image of the man now walking to the other side of the room, sitting down at the head.

‘Thank you for coming, Billy,’ he started. There was hoarseness in his voice. It sounded tired, almost primitive. It was fitting for the man. ‘You’ll understand the secretive of the meeting,’ he looked almost relieved. But in his eyes, the ghost of fear was still present. 

‘Of course, Richard,’ my smile was wide. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Shift to the right. Shift to the left. Nod at them both. ‘Believe me, you and your family couldn’t be in better hands. Anvil is the world’s leading agency for a reason,’ smile again. Nod.

Richard Alcaide’s frown dropped and turned into an all too well-rehearsed demeanor. We were both doing it. 

‘And I thank you for it. Too many people have tried to come for my business before, but this…’ he paused. His index tapped the table, nervous, anxious. ‘This is different.’

I nodded, my face filled with a compassionate understanding I certainly didn’t feel. ‘The attacks were certainly too premeditated. I can pull a few strings, see what the FBI knows. I already have a few ideas about who’s behind the bombing, but it’s still essential that you remain in the city. Show that you’re not afraid.’

‘I am not afraid, Mr. Russo,’ Richard’s warning was hollow. He too knew he was alone.

‘Anvil will take care of everything. Our top agents are already securing the perimeter and this building. I will be supervising every operation under your watch, and even Mr. Castle here will ensure the protection of your family.’

One of the younger Alcaides laughed. The sight was wicked. His eyes were cruel, mocking.

‘This little guy over there?’ he pointed to Frank. He had been silent the entire ride, and his scowl had only gotten deeper the longer we waited for Richard to grace us with his presence, despite being the one to have called the meeting.

‘I can assure, Mr. Alcaide, that Mr. Castle is most capable of protecting everyone around him. Not only is he my best agent, but my closest friend too. There’s no one else I would trust with my life,’ I pressed my hand on his shoulder, a silent warning. 

Calm down.

Fuck off. 

I knew what his answer would be even without a single glance. Frank’s eyes were staring at Richard Alcaide hard. He hadn’t been too happy with his discreet cry for help, but even he couldn’t deny the important sum we would all get out of this.

I couldn’t care less about Richard Alcaide. All I cared about was his money. The city would certainly be better off without him and his puppets, but some other equally-stinking rat would soon rise to the top, only for the cycle to be repeated once again.

‘My entire family is at risk here, Mr. Russo. As you can understand, my top priority is them,’ Richard directed the attention back to him. Of course. ‘They have their own trusted guards for their protection.’

He didn’t like Frank. Only a few years ago, Frank had almost murdered him in his revenge, only for Homeland Security to show up seconds before he could pull the trigger. They had had some sort of truce these past months when I recruited Frank so he could bail prison. The Alcaides, despite knowing this, had reached out to me personally for help. 

It’s not like he can go to the police, Frank had joked.

Half the city has tried to kill him at least once, I had added. 

We had laughed immensely over it before accepting the offer, not without doubling the fee first.

Everybody in that room had every reason not to trust one another. But the danger was making the adrenaline pump hard and fast through my veins. Frank could deny it all he wanted, but he felt it too. The hunger, the thirst, the desire for action. War does that to you.

‘Is there anything we should now, Mr. Alcaide? As you can tell, I’d rather not send my men to certain death, if I can help it,’ I stared at him.

His enemies were many, and the search for the responsible for the latest crimes against him would be exhaustive. But no one could refuse Richard Alcaide. Not even me.

‘I know my name is well-known amongst the terrorists, but I have a hunch this is much more local. Probably a rival family. Maybe some unsatisfied customers. Fired ex-workers,’ he waved his hand around, pondering. But his fingers still shook, almost imperceptibly. ‘Power always comes at a price, Mr. Russo, and I’m willing to pay for it. But I need you to hold up your end of the deal.’

The three Alcaides had their gaze fixed on me. Their scrutiny did little to unnerve me. It wasn’t the first time I had made deals with the mafia, and I knew how to hold my ground. That’s what made me such a reliable customer.

I put my hands up in the air, my palms showing. I laughed softly. ‘An exchange’s an exchange. Now, let’s get down to business. Any idea where we could start?’

···

‘You sure about this?’ Frank asked once we were back at our office. 

A couple of workers remained at their desks, their eyes dropping slightly as they stared at the screens before them. Frank followed me into my office, crossing his arms as he stared at me, waiting for an answer.

I shrugged my shoulders casually while I took off my jacket, dusting it off slightly and placing it delicately on the back of my chair.

‘We need the ammo,’ I answered, rather simply. 

My body felt tired, despite having sat at my desk most of the day. I glanced at the clock on my desk, the time marking three in the early morning. The Alcaide way of doing business no one was to know.

‘But this is illegal,’ Frank protested. He didn’t move from his place.

‘I know.’

I didn’t know what else to say to him. I walked to the side, picked up two crystal-clear glasses, and filled them with scotch. I handed one to Frank, who took it with unsteady hands after looking down at it for a couple of seconds, debating whether to take it or not.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing with this, Billy. Something seems off,’ Frank downed his glass in one sitting. If the bitterness of the alcohol burned his throat, he didn’t show it.

‘Too calculated,’ I agreed. I took a small sip of my glass, looking at a fixed spot on the wall behind Frank.

‘Yeah.’

I know,’ I repeated with a smile. ‘I invented that. The small tremble of fingers. The shakiness of the voice. The rapid swallowing.’ I listed off the little quirks I had noticed about Richard. None of them existed before. And none of them were real, either.

‘Why are we doing this for, then?’ Frank asked once more, pouring himself another glass.

‘Because we also need the government on our side,’ I smirked.

‘We take the money and dip?’ Frank suddenly understood.

‘Imagine bringing down the Alcaide clan. We’ll be heroes,’ I took another sip. I enjoyed the burn. The fire in my stomach.

‘It’s a bit too late for that,’ Frank grinned in disbelief, downing his glass once more. ‘So, where to next?’

My smirk got wider, knowing Frank was in it for the ride. ‘Well, they mentioned a disinherited daughter… Maybe someone wants revenge on daddy,’ I joked.

Frank’s eyes widened. ‘I do remember some talk about that when I…’ he coughed. I nodded for him to continue. ‘Something to do with his wife’s death.’

His voice had gotten lower. It would forever remain a sensitive issue for him.

I drank the rest of my glass, setting it on the desk and retrieving my jacket. ‘Then we already know where to start.’

Next chapter

[x-authorship-x]

Hey hey!! I was wondering if you could tell me some of your headcanons/ideas/details/etc for your fav characters? I've been really stressed lately and seeing people talk about characters they adore give the best good vibes :]

Hey, anon!

I'm sorry things have been stressful for you 🥺 I hope things work out and calm down soon!

(honestly this is ironic though because I've also been stressed beyond belief hahahaha-)

I was wracking my brains trying to think of who I could talk about for a bit before... I hit me! Who do I always bring in but I rarely get the chance to really dig deep into as a character?

Inoichi!

I'll just... ramble 🥰

I initially picked Inoichi, name-dropped as Shisui's sensei in In the Eye of the Beholder, because I had seen quite a few fics that centred around Shikaku from that generation and I knew I wanted someone different. He's also very distinct from the Uchiha, he's respectable, with talents that worked really well with Shisui's, and in a position of power that could act as a counterbalance to the status of the Uchiha/Police etc. Inoichi's exact role in T&I didn't matter much in Eye because he was a minimal mention, past tense, and only really served to contextualize Shisui's own skill.

When I got to writing HOPE AU, starting with No Tomorrow, things became much clearer.

Inoichi hadn't ever really factored in with me, beyond a vague disbelief that he'd let Ino get away with not training and going on a stupid diet in canon, but he'd been growing on me. Something about his soothing presence compared to Shisui's more hectic, quick action, just clicked and the pieces came together. Whilst Itachi & Shisui work because Shisui is a kind of twisted martyr/role model who Itachi, quieter and tragic in a slightly different way, always looked up to (and the world went to shit for real when Shisui left Itachi to scramble with the fragments), Shisui gets to have his own guiding force with Inoichi.

Inoichi, ironically, is something of a moral compass and a foundation for all of my stories. Whilst Shisui is the protagonist and narrator, more often than not, he's also tormented and unreliable in his perspective, for all he tries. Inoichi, however, is much more grounded. This is because I wanted Inoichi to be the remedy, in a way, to Shisui's mania and trauma and very visceral POV.

Example: Shisui wanted to martyr himself for the village, putting everyone's lives above his own... So that his dream of peace could continue in a way that was very specifically his. Inoichi, in turn, wants to rid the village of corruption, so taking down Danzo is more important than his own safety and position... Because he wants to keep his family, especially Shisui, safe.

Again, this is all ironic because Inoichi is never detached or clinical when things are connected to Shisui yet you can still trust him, as a reader, to 'keep a lid' on things. What makes this so delicious to me is that most of Shisui's methods and coping mechanisms... are directly copied from Inoichi. Shisui manipulates people like Inoichi taught him to, he takes stock, he manipulates his Clan in a way that is very distinct from other Uchiha (like Mikoto) because it's actually Inoichi's influence.

Even when I'm placing them as counterparts, they are symmetrical. Shisui is sobbing and breaking down and lashing out? Inoichi is soothing him... Whilst also feeling that grief and fear and pain. He's really so emotional, but he is able to put it into his professionalism because he desperately wants to help; it's a kind of selfish selflessness that Shisui also uses a lot, putting everyone before himself... But in the direction of his own goals.

And then! Then we get this glorious imagery! Sun and mood, dark and light! Summer and winter! Completely reversed!

Sun and Moon? Aesthetically, Shisui is dark and pale, he (cba for real quote) thinks a true Shinobi is faceless in the darkness for the betterment of society... But he undeniably burns brighter than the sun. Inoichi is golden hair and sea blue eyes and nurturing care, he has a wife with a flower shop and a nine-to-five, a clan and a family, he doesn't go on bloody missions from home... But he is most definitely the moon in this situation, serene and controlling and vigilant.

Summer and winter! Idk how to tell you that I pose Shisui in monochrome lighting so much not just because it's dramatic and he looks great, it's about the brutality and the crisp lines, it's about the survival and the burning heat inside with coldness in action... But, again, Shisui burns, he flourishes given warmth and nurturing, he withstands the heat, he basks in the sun, he melts and unwinds... Inoichi is winter because he is so bitingly cold in anger, he is eyes like ice and arguments that you can't fight against and chakra that is refreshing but can turn so bitter in an instant.

Dark and light? Again, Shisui appears dark, he literally works in Black Ops, but he has a spark to him - literally, with his nature, his Susanoo, his glowing Dojutsu - that draws others like moths to a flame and, despite everything, he is always searching for goodness. He wants peace, he does not revel in the gore, he is deeply empathetic to foreign Shinobi. Inoichi, like I said, is golden and he upholds the laws, he does wellness checks on Shinobi and intervenes on their behalf, he takes his subordinates and his superiors to task, he wanted to change the world with Minato... But he is the torturer of the Leaf, he has so many secrets that they're locked behind a hidden vault, he tears apart minds and he collects evidence and he stews on his information, plotting.

So far I've spoken mostly about Inoichi alongside Shisui, which is understandable because they are THE duo of the whole series.

But what about Inoichi alone?

He might've lived longer than most characters, much longer than Shisui, but we never got much to work with so I pretty much went by vibes and rolled with it.

First things first- contextualising his abilities. Now, some fic writers might be okay with the bullshit that is Kishi's non-existent timeline but I wasn't and neither am I the kind of person who can just willfully imagine that somehow we went from feudal energy with the Founders to video games with B[redacted]'s generation. Especially not when I'd reworked the timeline so that we're around year 64 when Shisui and Danzo's drama goes down. So, with that in mind, I had to question how much legitimate psychological study had been done in this time. I tried to bracket it by generation, but also I only have a vague sociological understanding of the field of Psychology and I really can't afford the time - or have the will - to dig enough into that to make Inoichi a psychologist by our modern standards. Welcome to camp: How To Bullshit Inoichi!

Now I don't know a lot about psych but I have studied nationalism so the propaganda side of things was much more fun haha. Inoichi's job became as much as a safeguarding measure for the state as much as it was about the actual Shinobi. Inoichi's whole role in the village, and therefore his very core sense of purpose, is to keep the Shinobi forces 'in line'. The imagery of the tree filled with leaves, the teamwork and will of fire, the obedience and feral loyalty and martyrdom might have been plastered across every surface and shoved down every orifice by the village as a whole but it's Inoichi who ensures that it sticks. If someone is unfit for a job, it'll be influenced by this loyalty, if someone is losing faith in the field then it's just as a much of a red flag as self-sabotage or a mental break.

It's a game, all of it, and the Hokage is actually on the board for this one; this shaped the kind of person Inoichi has been for most of his life, this overlap between individuals and the big picture.

Inoichi comes from a Clan who have notorious mental techniques, who are allied with a Clan that makes alternative medicine, controls shadows and have scary intelligence, as well as a Clan that is so well-connected across the continent that they may as well be the mafia, that are brutally strong even without the augmentation, and who have an extremely welcoming clan culture. Where do you situate yourself in this?

I think it's quite telling that, whenever I talk about Inoichi, it's generally how he reflects and manages the different personalities around him.

Inoichi is an only child - Yua's parents are actually his cousins, 'niece' is sentimental, so yes her grandfather was the Uncle mentioned below - and his mother died when he was young. His father Inojou, we know (I say, like I didn't write this lmao), was both Clan Head and Head of T&I before Inoichi inherited these roles. Inojou took on the Department under Tobirama's tenure (Tobirama died when Inoichi was seven).

The Nidaime was dead, Inoichi was soon to graduate, and being the best Yamanaka Heir was all about being the best Shinobi possible. For most kids, that would be fighting. For a Yamanaka? It's about the power and control. From an adult? Masterful, upsetting, discomforting. From a prepubescent child? Fucking horrifying and possibly overly cruel before Inoichi worked out how to walk the line. Yikes.

So the household, it's immediately clear, was one that was cold, vacant, and work-obsessed. Inoichi's softest memory as a child were the rabbits his mother kept when he was a very small child, before she died. That's it. Inoichi, as I've mentioned before, was an extremely manipulative child. Why? Nurture and nature, he was alone with a father who lived and breathed his work and clan history, his playmates were Chouza and Shikaku (who, some of you might notice, I've really leaned into a slightly more dangerous interpretation of him✨) and the world seemed to be falling apart around them.

As a teen, going through the second war when Konoha was the one committing all those atrocities in Rain Country (traumatising Konan and the boys), when the Sannin were just getting their feet on that pedestal... Inoichi is only falling deeper into this mentality that Konoha was cultivating within him. He'd be working at his father's elbow in the middle of wartime, when ethics just don't exist, and we've already had mention from Inoichi before about some atrocities his own Uncle committed in the first war in the name of 'science'. Shisui's education was softened by Inoichi's care for him; Inoichi never got anything like that from his own father, their relationship was like playing 3D chess nonstop, including every little thing. Informative, yeah, but not comforting or restful.

Then we get the big turning point; Inojou's death. Inojou, unlike most character deaths in Narutoverse, didn't pop his clogs in a violent skirmish in the field but, rather, in his own domain; a Mindwalk.

Can we just appreciate the horror and trauma that Inoichi's only close family, as well as the person he'd learned everything from,... died from the technique that was supposed to ensure his absolute control? Inojou Mindwalks an assassin, the assassin's mental safeguarding triggers a suicide Jutsu, and it manages to take Inojou with it, rendering his body literally brain-dead. Mic drop

This was in wartime. Inoichi is completely alone in the world, his clan a distant but pressing responsibility, his teammates and friends like Chouza, Shikaku, and Minato are just barely grown men in their own right, with their own problems and none of them have inherited power like this yet. They keep going out to the front lines; Inoichi has to stay right there and, somehow, immediately pick up where his father left off. Using the very techniques that killed Inojou.

Inoichi goes home, to his big empty Clan Head House, his friends far away, and gets dangerously drunk and, in his own words, "howled like a deranged soul, barely human." 🥹 He was not fucking okay.

This goes on for.... gah, maybe a few months before Shisui's Genin Team are killed and Inoichi, stressed to his eyeballs and absolutely not in a position for a student let alone a pet-project like 'keep the newest, youngest Mangekyou sane so we can use him', is not ready.

I've written this scene before (Tomorrowland), Inoichi's impatience frustration bleeding into curiosity and, eventually, empathy. He's too stubborn to give up and then he gets so invested.

This another defining moment in Inoichi's character. He's been raised to be manipulative to unmatched levels. Shikaku recognises it in him, it's how they align, and Chouza is self-assured enough and welcoming enough to know exactly what Inoichi and Shikaku are like and survive - in fact, flourish - whilst embracing them.

Inoichi doesn't think he's cut out to be a tutor, let alone a sensei. I think, pretty much from the get-go it was inevitable that they'd be family. They... recognised something in the other. For all my parallel imagery earlier, the harmony between them is even stronger; morally and ethnically suspect specialities, gentle words and hard action, big pictures with some extremely precious few loved ones.

Inoichi spent a fortnight visiting Shisui's hospital room, the little Genin struck mute by guilt and grief, and talked about anything he could think of. He spoke about guilt on missions, breaking his leg from mistaken arrogance and realising he'd put his team at risk, he opened up about the few memories he had of his mother, he tries to coax Shisui into opening to him... By opening himself up first. Just talking to Shisui about food makes him go home and cook his first square meal in weeks!

Inoichi becomes much more human again.

Inoichi's T&I is different from the versions that came before. Inoichi's Clan is different as well. It was through trying to help Shisui actually heal, not just function as a weapon, that taught Inoichi how to heal and open himself. Working with Shisui's Mangekyou and his Uchiha techniques helped Inoichi adapt his own Clan Jutsu, he implemented safeguarding against what happened to his father, learning how to torture and interrogate people with his words and body language instead of just clan techniques, how manipulation can be used to genuinely help people. Do you think Inojou was the closest thing Konoha had to a psychologist too? Nope, Inoichi induced that side of things too

This also marks a time in Inoichi's life when he's involved with Minato's Hokage campaign, to the extent where Kushina gifts him some rare sealing paper and helps him install a secret reinforced vault in his office 🤭 Inoichi also started reading parenting books to help with Shisui lol

Inoichi married a civilian woman who had little interest in Shinobi affairs, with skills that don't compliment the Yamanaka in that sense but, rather, do in the spirit of them. Sora is snarky and mischievous and tender and empathetic, she brings out the best in Inoichi, as he does with her, and they are matched because they chose each other and grew together to make it work.

Inoichi hasn't completely transformed. You'll notice that there's always a line between him and Shisui's friends, we don't get a clear insight into the dynamic between Mikoto and Inoichi (they exist in the same space when shit hits the fan with Danzo and that's about it), and you never see Sora's side of the family. Inoichi is a taskmaster with his staff, he is breathtakingly cruel to those in his cells, and he could barely hold himself back from fucking up Kisame's mind! Shisui is his only 'therapy' client. Just wait and see what else unfolds in the series gah!

I just really love Inoichi, i think the way he's approached this part of his life where he is defending and raising his children, after the way he grew up, is just so endlessly fascinating. The kind of fucked up moral compass he has, which because of both his role in Shisui's (protagonist) life and the way his say-so shapes the village, became like... the centre of right and wrong in the story, his particular brand of loyalty and paranoia, the contrast of his wonderful heart and his terrible abilities...

I just really love Inoichi! 🥰

Enjoy, Anon! Hope things get better soon~