#i am. apprehensive to say the least.

[syn4k]

something is going to happen

[himblebo]

What’s wrong babe? You’re thinking about Glinda’s face before she is handed the torch to light the funeral effigy of her friend? Her best friend who was fundamental to the woman she has become? The woman that she abandoned at the most pivotal moment of their lives in an act of cowardice that she has spent the rest of her life running from? Her best friend that, through her own lack of action when it counted most, is widely believed to have deserved her murder?

[confessionsofatvjunkie]

I’m sorry writers, but the line “I think she sees more in me than I see in myself” was not a line that was earned for a character we got a collective, what, 3 minutes of on screen... 

We have no impression of Natalia other her getting all hot and bothered over learning Buck died!

I’m not saying she’s a bad character, or that she won’t be important eventually but she isn’t yet, and that line should be reserved for someone who has earned it! 

[beehop]

had a yolo moment, bought woodz tickets 😔

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Twisters) Summary: You're a new addition to the Storm Par team and Tyler finds himself fascinated with you from the very beginning.

It’s been a long and stressful day, so you assume that the group of tornado wranglers hanging about the large red truck by the stairs are feeling the same way as you – exhausted – and will let you head upstairs to get some much needed rest.

You are, however, incredibly wrong. 

“Hey, you’re the one with the Storm Par team, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to a stop on the first landing and turn to the group, all of their eyes staring up at you, and nod. “And you are the ones that make videos on Youtube.”

Boone, one of the only ones who’s names you’d gotten earlier today, laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’m taking it as a win since you know who we are, as well as the other million people who subscribe to us.”

It’s hard not to smile at least a little at his cockiness. If you had a million subscribers on Youtube, you’d probably also have let it go to your head a little. 

You try and excuse yourself from the conversation then, assuming it’s over, and take a step towards the stairs, but yet again – you’re wrong. This time, it’s the tall, gorgeous blond man that speaks. Tyler Owens.

“I don’t think she’s subscribed to us, Boone.”

You can’t help it. You bite. “What makes you say that, Owens?”

He grins up at you from his spot on the back of the truck. “Am I wrong?” 

“That’s not an answer.”

The others in the group laugh and whoop, obviously enjoying the back and forward between the two of you. You assume that it’s rare for Tyler Owens to get that from anyone, let alone a fellow storm chaser that he’s never met before in his life. 

Tyler looks at you for a few moments without saying anything and you take that as your cue to leave, stifling a yawn as you turn away and head up the staircase. You can hear the others chattering back at the truck as you reach the top of the staircase and move to find your room, desperate for a warm shower and a comfortable bed. 

You’re so stuck in your own thoughts that you don’t hear someone bounding up the stairs behind you. 

“Hey, Storm Par,” Tyler Owens’ voice surprises you.

You look up from the key in your hand, having been checking your room number, and meet his eyes. “Were you that desperate for an answer on whether I’m subscribed to your Youtube channel that you had to follow me up here?”

Tyler chuckles to himself. “No, surprisingly not. Just figured I’d come and ask you how you’re doing and didn’t think you’d want an audience for that question.”

You��re a little surprised by his kind nature. Judging by what you’d seen of him so far, he was more of an act first, think later kind of person. And maybe he still was since he’d run after you so fast. 

“How I’m doing? I met you twelve hours ago.”

He flashes a grin. “I can’t ask someone I met twelve hours ago how they are?”

“Well…” You hesitate, a little lost for words. “I’m fine, just tired. I haven’t done this storm chasing thing in a couple of years and it’s going to take a bit of getting used to, especially working with a team like Storm Par.”

You don’t owe Tyler an explanation about everything, not about why you haven’t done it in years, nor why you’re a bit apprehensive about the Storm Par team. But you figure, since he’d been so kind to follow you up here to check in on you, a small explanation is the least you can offer him in return for his kindness.

Tyler nods. “Listen, I know my team can be a little much sometimes – in a good way, don’t get me wrong – but if you’re ever after a bit more fun than the suits and PhD’s of Storm Par, I’m sure we can squeeze you in.”

You snort. “They do not wear suits while storm chasing.”

“How do you know? You’ve only been here for twelve hours, Storm Par.”

Tyler smirks as you narrow your eyes at him. “Not my name, Owens.”

“Go and get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” He can see that you’re exhausted, and even though you’re happily playing along with him, he’s not the type to push it too far. Especially when it comes to you, apparently. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

“You gonna set up camp outside my room?”

“No, not for someone I’ve only known for twelve hours. But I will guard the stairs incase Javi or Scott come looking for you,” he smiles, amusement in his every word. “Go on.”

You listen to him, eyeing him carefully one last time before turning and heading towards your room, which you think is at the end of the corridor. Just as you’re putting your key in the lock, you hear him yell out behind you.

“If you can’t sleep, you can always look up Tornado Wranglers on Youtube!” 

[muntitled]

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 2

Jason was sitting with Danny on his lap on a sofa in the first floor living room of the manor. He could feel the boy was nervous and he did his best to comfort Danny as much as possible.

“He smells like death Daddy…” he said quietly. One of the first things Jason had learned about Danny on the way to the manor was that the child was really in tune with the paranormal. He seemed to see things others couldn’t and could tell where people had died before. He had pointed out a few locations on the way since the two of them had to walk across the city to get there.

The second thing Jason had noticed was that Danny’s speech was pretty advanced, using long sentences, complex vocabulary and correct grammar unlike most children his age. He could have long conversations with depth if he wanted to but this he only did sometimes when Danny thought it was important or if it was about the stars. Danny had mentioned how he couldnt see any because of the smog surrounding the city.

Jason’s inner self really liked that Danny had called him that. It was almost like the kid had claimed him as much as Jason had claimed Danny. Like they both knew they were meant to stay side by side.

Jason spoke softly, “Yeah he probably does buddy.” He didn’t know if he wanted the 3 year old to know about Bruce’s extracurricular activities yet.

“Is he like us?” Danny asked, his eyes flashing green for a moment. A moment so short that you could almost miss it.

Jason shook his head, “No, not quite. But he is safe.”

Danny seemed to think about this for a moment before nodding, though he didn’t release his grip from Jason any bit. He was apprehensive still and that was okay. Jason was nervous too.

“So…” B said, sitting in a chair across from them, “You’re alive.”

Bruce had repeated that statement at least 8 times since he had collected himself off the floor. When Jason first saw him, Bruce started crying hysterically in a way he had never seen before. He had slumped to the ground saying that he was seeing things because of his own guilt. At first Jason thought he was putting on his Brucie act but no… he was just that distraught. Unless it was a Brucie act. Jason was still 50 percent sure it was a Brucie act.

“I am,” Jason said in return. He didn’t really know how to approach this.

“And you have a kid,” he said, gesturing to Danny. Ah yeah. Of course once Bruce got over himself he was going to pick up some context clues. No doubt he noticed that Danny had called him Daddy.

“I do. This is Danny,” Jason said carefully. The 3 year old was skittish to say the least when it came to anyone that wasn’t Jason. He had learned that on their way across the city. Whenever anyone walked past them, Danny had hidden his face in Jason’s shoulder. So because of this, he wasn’t going to say anything Danny wasn’t comfortable with. He was pretty sure he would feel it if they started to broach a subject Danny didn’t like. He would feel it in his chest.

Jason watched as Bruce took a look at his toddler. No doubt noting the blood he was caked in. The eyebags and pale skin, the sunken in cheekbones and his overly thin appearance. All signs of malnutrition. Signs that Jason was going to be dead set on correcting.

“Hi Danny. My name is Bruce,” B said. He smiled gently, caving in his shoulders to make his appearance smaller and less threatening. Jason was relieved. Were there lots of questions in B’s head? Probably. But there was a very scared child so it wasn’t the time to be asking them.

Jason felt Danny peel his face away from his shoulder enough to look at Bruce more head on, “H-hello.”

“Danny will be staying with me now,” Jason said. He felt a wave of relief come from Danny.

Bruce nodded. Again, he knew not to ask about details at the moment.

“Your room is just how you left it. Danny can stay in the room next to yours. I can install a connecting door between them if you want,” he said.

Jason nodded, “I think that would be best.”

The next morning came around and Danny had yet to let Jason put him down. Much less clean up the blood or change him into something clean. He did eat though when Jason said it was safe. It wasn’t much but it was something. It was 7 am by the time Danny had finally fought sleep too long and passed out silently on Jason’s shoulder. At least now they could talk more freely.

“I thought you were dead. The Joker, he sent out a video online of your body. I thought he killed you,” Bruce said. He was gripping his coffee mug a little bit too hard. Jason didn’t want him to break it and wake up Danny.

“He did,” Jason replied softly, gently taking the coffee from Bruce and setting it safely out of his dad’s reach, “With a crowbar.”

“But you’re here! Alive!” B whisper shouted.

Jason nodded subtly as to not wake Danny from moving too much, “I am. I woke up in the Lazarus. I think he dumped my body there.”

Bruce took a long look at Jason before responding, “You seem awfully fine about that.”

Jason wanted to shrug but he would rather die again than wake his son, “I got better. And Joker won’t be a problem anymore B. His head is in our kitchen.”

Jason could practically hear Bruce grind his teeth, “Yeah I saw that. Was that you?”

Jason hadn’t even thought about the fact that it might have looked that way, “What? No. I woke up yesterday. I didn’t have time for that. I found his head that way.”

“You found his head that way,” Bruce repeated as if it was a hard concept.

“Yes. Whose blood do you think is all over Danny? When I found him, he was playing with it,” Jason said. He didnt understand the confusion.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “Where did you find this kid, Jason?”

“Next to the pit,” Jason said, his voice remaining soft, “Right next to the edge, I was afraid he was going to fall in.” Just thinking about it made Jason instinctively hold Danny closer.

Bruce let out a very tired sigh, “Okay.”

…

Tim’s parents loved him. He knew that. But thing about that love was that… it was very conditional. Not in the way one would probably think. The best way to describe it would be out of sight out of mind.

When they were alive, Tim had learned very quickly that as long as he didn’t bring attention to himself, his parents could go weeks without noticing his presence. Almost like they forgot he was there. Most of the time, this was in Tim’s favor. He could focus on whatever puzzle he had found for himself and no one was going to look for him until he was done. He could literally see his mom walk past him in the hallway and as long as he stood still enough, she had absolutely no idea.

The first week Tim was at Wayne manor, he knew Bruce was grieving and had pretty much locked himself away in his room or in the Batcave Alfred wouldn’t let him into. So he didn’t see much of him at all. He was free to work on the puzzle of what had dropped him from the sky. He could think about Jason’s murder. Maybe he could solve it.

But then Jason wasn’t so dead anymore. Tim had listened in on as many conversations between Jason and Bruce as he could and he learned what had happened to him. Well that was one mystery solved.

But Tim still had the other mystery. So he did what he had always done. Hide himself away until he was done thinking about it. It had been a week since Jason had come back and brought Danny into the manor. Not a single person came to check on him. At least other than Alfred. They all had their own problems to worry about anyways.

Tim was having the same problem as before. He had very little info to go off of and not enough resources to get the intel he wanted. He kept coming back to that singular dead end. It was driving him nuts. How could he make any progress when he couldn’t LEARN?

Tim was jostled out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. He was in the room Bruce was letting him stay in. It was probably Alfred again to remind him to eat or something.

Tim got up from the desk and opened the door. It was Bruce.

“Can I come in?” the man asked.

Tim nodded, a little thrown off. Didn’t this guy have other things to worry about? Like being Batman? Or the fact that his son was not actually dead?

Tim sat back down at the desk and he watched as Bruce took a seat on the bed.

“Tim, I’m sorry I haven’t been very welcoming the past week,” he said.

Tim shrugged, “It’s fine. You had more important things.”

Bruce shook his head, “I did have other things to… handle but I should have been more present with you as well. You are in my home and I should have tended to you more than I did.”

That made him kind of confused. It wasn’t like Tim was his son too. Was it like he really had anywhere else to go? No not really but at most Tim was probably just a guest to Bruce. Just some kid he had to save.

“I told you it’s fine. I’m used to it,” Tim said.

Bruce’s eyebrows knit together for a moment before he seemed to control his face again, “I’m sorry to hear that…. I uh… looked into your records. You don’t have anywhere to stay.”

Tim sighed, he knew this was going to come eventually. He was getting kicked from the manor. Which SUCKED! He hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell Bruce that he wanted to help him. To fight crime and be useful. He had a PowerPoint and everything. Well at least he did on the computer he had back at Drake manor.

“So I was wondering,” Bruce continued, “If you wanted to stay here. With us. I would need to draft up some adoption papers of course so it can all be legalized but-“

Tim cut him off, “Yes. I would love that!” To say Tim was surprised was an understatement but like hell he wasn’t going to take this opportunity. If he was officially a Wayne, he could start dropping hints that he wanted to become a vigilante. That he wanted to help. Eventually maybe he could wear Bruce down enough to make it happen.

Bruce looked surprised, “Really?”

Clearly the old man thought it was going to take a lot more convincing. Luckily for him, Tim had his own motives for wanting to stay.

Tim nodded, “Yes. You’ve already been nice enough to me. I don’t have anywhere else to go. And besides. I’ve liked it here so far.”

Tim was pretty sure he saw some joy behind Bruce’s eyes even if his face didn’t give that away. If he was that happy about it, maybe breaking down the old man wasn’t going to be as hard as he had planned for it to be.

“Then I will get all of those legal documents in order. Did you…. want to meet Jason and Danny?” Bruce asked.

Again Tim was surprised. He thought that the interaction would have ended there. He wasn’t expecting… a warm invitation. But it couldn’t hurt right?

“Uh yeah. Sure,” Tim said.

Part 1 Part 3

[luveline]

how about some domestic stuff of post-prison reid and stripper!reader??? that one fic broke my heart in the best way

Prison changes a lot of things about Spencer, so when you get back to his place after a quick run to the grocery store and find him packing away some of his things into boxes, you're not alarmed. “Spring cleaning?” you ask, stepping around him carefully where he's kneeling by the TV stand. 

“Making room,” he says. 

He must have bought something. You put your tote bag in the crook of your arm and bend a touch to kiss his cheek, his hair brushing your face. “You have so many things, Spence, you need a storage locker. You need two.” 

He feels blindly up your arm. 

You put the groceries away, wash your hands, and cut some veggies. You season them and put them in the oven to roast, calling Spencer to see what he wants with it. “You could have the leftover chicken, or I can make, like… anything you want, actually. Pork chops, or maybe forget that and we'll have pasta, I can frankenstein the– Hey, Spence? You listening?” 

You're not mad. He's always been prone to deep thought, but usually he isn't looking straight at you while you talk. “Spencer?” 

“You'll move in with me, right? If I ask?” 

You wring your hands. “You've asked me a hundred times.” 

“But this time, you'll say yes.” He's staring at you. He already knows. 

“You can at least pretend to ask me.” 

Spencer closes the box in front of him. “Please, move in with me. I can't spend that long away from you ever again.” 

“You see me almost every day when you're not working.” 

He shrugs, smiles. “It's not enough.” 

You sit on the couch. He leans over his box to hold your leg. Spencer's asked you a bunch of times, first because he worried about your safety, then because he felt it was a good option as his friend, and then again because he loved you. And you always said no because you didn't want to depend on him, and because some nagging voice in the back of your mind kept telling you he'd realise he didn't want you as soon as you got close enough. But it's been a long time since you thought that way, and his stint in prison emphasised how badly you need each other. 

“So, it'll be equal?” you ask in answer. 

“I'm not saying that. The rent is ridiculous, and you didn't sign up for that, and I have no idea where we'll put all your clothes. But it'll be half yours, absolutely.” He looks especially happy though apprehensive; he hasn't realised you don't need convincing this time.

“I want to bring my pink lamp for the bedroom.”

Spencer's smile changes his entire face. Puppy dog eyes turn thinner, his lips part, his perfect teeth like pearls. “I want you to bring the pink lamp. Bring everything. No one will ever understand our decor.” 

You sink down on the floor in front of him and nudge aside his box for a hug. He gives it to you, and, in a slightly uncharacteristic move for him, he cuts the embrace short to kiss you soundly, his hand on your cheek. He kisses you again and again until you're laughing into his mouth. 

“Does this mean you'll let me propose?” he asks softly. 

Your breath catches. He doesn't sound particularly put together himself, bringing his second hand to your face, holding your forehead to this. 

“I don't think it's something I have much choice in,” you say eventually, your smile audible and immovable. 

You get to say yes or no, but his wanting to ask is all on him. He's flustered you unexpectedly, and the quiet laugh coming from what feels to be the deepest recess of his chest tips you over. You dip down into his neck slowly, hiding away in the curve of his shoulder as his arms come heavy behind you. 

“All I could think was how much stuff I didn't get to say to you, or do with you,” he says. “If they couldn't clear my name, I kept thinking about how much time I wouldn't get back.” 

You breathe out in a rush against his neck. “But you're out.” 

“Yeah. I am.” He strokes your back. “Lucky me.” 

[flemingology]

midnight confessions ─ leah williamson x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: new year's eve makes the perfect opportunity to make things official with leah

warnings: none

wc: 1.2k

a/n: kinda wanna apologize for how short this is, but i've fed you accordingly this month so i don't owe you anything x also really liked how this ended!

You'd been seeing Leah for the best part of five weeks. You'd been on coffee dates, dinner dates, you've even been to her apartment to watch a movie. You weren't exclusive, yet, but neither of you weren't seeing other people. You just hadn't made it official yet. Or kissed. Or, you know, any of those things. But you were getting there.

You'd been sharing sharing a couple lingering looks and touches throughout the night. Every time one of you tried to get the other out of the commotion for a couple minutes, just for a little catch-up, it seemed like someone else wanted their attention. You were having fun, really, Leah's New Year's Eve party was well organized and you were enjoying yourself, but you'd been missing her tonight. Missing her presence, missing her laugh and her voice, missing her.

"When are you gonna kiss her?" A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, glancing to the side and seeing Steph lean against the kitchen counter. "Hmm?" You acted like you didn't hear her, giving yourself a bit more breathing space to come up with an appropriate answer. "I can see the way you're looking at her, darling. Your eyes haven't left her all night." You sighed and turned towards her. "That obvious?" The Australian chuckled and swung her arm over your shoulders. "Why hasn't it happened yet?"

You wrecked your brain, searching for a legitimate, good reason why you and Leah hadn't kissed yet. But you couldn't find one. In reality, you didn't know either, and it was safe to say that you were slowly starting to feel a little apprehensive about it. There hadn't been many opportunities, but there had been enough for at least one kiss to have taken place. But no. Nothing.

"I don't know, Steph," you said, stretching the syllables of the words you were speaking. "Well, just for what it's worth, she's not been keeping her eyes off you either. In fact, she's watching us right now." Your eyes scanned the room for Leah, and a small smile crept upon her lips as you caught her gaze. You couldn't help the slight blush that adorned your cheeks. "You're whipped. And she is too. Trust me, she wants it as bad as you do. You have a great opportunity tonight. You best take it." Steph said, pressing a kiss against your cheek before leaving you to your own in the kitchen, going to mingle with some of your other Arsenal teammates.

"You having a good time?" You hadn't paid attention to Leah as you finished up talking to Steph, so you shot up surprisedly as her voice cut through the kitchen. You turned around and tried to compose yourself, trying your best not to look at the sliver of skin that was showing underneath her cropped shirt. "Yeah, I'm having loads of fun. Thanks, Le. Thanks for the invite." Leah leant her elbow on the kitchen island, taking a sip from her drink. You shouldn't find it so attractive. "Anytime. Want me to make you another drink?" You nodded, not trusting your voice not to waver if you spoke right now.

Leah mixed a whole load of stuff, not knowing much more about what she poured other than that it wasn't good for you. "Here," she began. "I don't know how good it'll be, but I tried my best to make something sweet, the way you like it." You smiled appreciatively at Leah and held out your hand, but she pulled the cup back slightly. You cocked your eyebrow at her. "Am I not getting anything in return for making you a drink?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but leant in nonetheless and pressed a sweet kiss against her cheek, resting your hand on her forearm for a couple seconds. "Good?" You questioned, getting lost in the smile that crept up her face.

"Perfect. Enjoy it, pretty girl. Have fun tonight. And don't get too drunk." "I wouldn't dare, Williamson."

It wasn't until much later that you found yourself face to face with Leah again. You both got caught up in your own conversations, Leah talking to Alex and her girlfriend Jess, you relentlessly winning game after game of beer pong with Alessia. You tried to keep your own alcohol intake under control, ushering Alessia or other bystanders to drink up the cups that you had to drink when someone hit a shot.

As you weaved your way through the crowd of people, on your way outdoors for a breather after your third game of beer pong in a row, you bumped into her. "Hey, where you going?" Leah grabbed your arm and looked at you with a concerned frown. "Oh, I'm just going outside for a minute, Le, don't worry." You smiled up at her, expecting her to drop your arm and make her way further towards where she was initially going, but instead she turned on her heels and led you outside with her. "You feeling okay?" she questioned as you were outside. "Yeah, I'm okay, honestly, I just needed a breather after the beer pong." A toothy grin crept onto Leah's face as you walked your way over to the railing of the balcony. "Yeah, I heard. Sounded like you guys were having fun." You felt your cheeks warming slightly, grateful for the flush that was already there due to the alcohol. She joined you, leaning her body against the railing and letting her eyes glide appreciatively over your figure.

You weren’t in the slightest aware of what time it was, the alcohol coursing through your body taking your awareness with it, but then you could hear the countdown starting inside, and where some would call it fate, you called it luck. Because if there was anyone you wanted to be outside on a balcony with, with the prospect of a New Year's kiss around the corner, it was her. This is probably that opportunity that Steph was speaking about earlier. You were ready to take it with both hands, Leah seemingly thinking the same thing. Ten.

She took a step forward, cupping your cheeks with her hands and locking her eyes with yours. The air was cold, your breath forming small puffs of air in the night sky, but Leah's touch was sending a feeling through you that made you forget about the near freezing temperatures outside. Nine.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself as you brave another look at her, her eyes twinkling with something that you couldn't quite put your finger on. But you were determined to find out what it was. Eight.

"I've really enjoyed these past couple weeks with you." Seven.

"This is gonna sound cliche, but I really don't want to end this year without telling you" Six.

"I really, really like you," she breathed. Five.

"Well, you're in luck, Williamson." Four.

"Because I really, really like you too." Three.

Leah's smile grew impossibly wider, her face brightening up as you spoke. Two.

"Is it okay if I kiss you then?" One.

"Please do." Happy fucking New Year.

[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

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 27. through it all — ✦ (wc: 0.8k)

notes: this took longer than expected ^^ hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

To Yae Miko's credit, she cut straight to the chase. 

Not that Scaramouche would give her much credit in general, given that she had always treated him with such indifference over the years before he finally moved out. But he'd take his small blessings whenever he could.

It was a cut-and-dry deal: Yae Miko would interview Scaramouche regarding the recent scandal between his partner and one of the band members of Windborne. He would get the chance to clear the air with the help of one of the most influential news outlets in all of Inazuma, while Yae Miko would get an exclusive story people could only dream about.

It should have been over the moment they ended the interview. But here they are, making casual conversation. At least as casual as it gets between a son and his estranged mother-in-law.

Scaramouche has seen these tactics before. Whenever Yae Miko wanted information, she’d make casual conversation with the interviewee to get them to open up. And that’s when she strikes.

Ironically enough, it was also Yae Miko who taught him how to avoid this. She was the one who taught him when to give information and when to hold back; how to satiate people’s curiosity enough so they leave you alone. Basic media training — training he and Kaori knew by heart.

Yae Miko tilts her chin downwards, the way she does whenever she gets curious. “You’ve been back in Inazuma for a little over a year now. Is it nice living with them? I’m assuming so since no one’s spotted you packing your bags just yet.”

“I still live with them. But that’s none of your business.”

“Oh come now, you saw me turn off the recorder. Everything we’re saying right now is off the record.”

Against his better judgment, he yields, “It’s... nice. On the days when they actually wake up early, they help me cook. It’s become a routine of sorts.”

He knew that was exactly what she was looking for when he saw the hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

It’s a slippery slope, trusting a journalist. Some will risk their lives for the truth while others will stab you in the back while shaking your hand. But if it’s Yae Miko, he has no doubt she’ll only publish the truth, if only a little embellished. She has to sell stories, after all.

“You’re never usually this civil with me,” Scaramouche doesn’t attempt to mask his suspicion. “What do you hope to gain with a conversation that’s off the record?”

Yae Miko offered a cryptic smile, her eyes revealing a flicker of sincerity. “Am I not allowed to be curious? People are actively looking for you just for the chance at an interview and you reached out to me in the hopes of clearing the air about your relationship.”

He’d be loathe to admit that she was one of the few people he trusted to handle the story properly. But he still had to ask, “And now you’re just this so-called off-the-record conversation as some sort of blackmail?”

She sighs, “I’m getting an exclusive interview with the author who’s dating an Inazuman pop star. Would you blame me for asking a few questions? Besides, you’ll see none of this conversation mentioned in any articles.”

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me...”

“I can understand your apprehension, but words hold power, Scaramouche. Everyone in the industry knows this. And so do you.”

Scaramouche has never really seen eye-to-eye with Yae Miko on a multitude of things, but one of the few things they can agree on is that people shouldn’t just blindly believe what people say just because they have a large following. The Narukami Press has always strived to publish articles that are reflective of the truth. 

But bias is inevitable, whether you work in journalism or public relations.

“A large majority of people are always going to want to chase the latest drama without caring if it’s true or not,” she starts. “You’ll find no such motivation in me to keep fanning the flames. I want them to die down as much as you do.”

“People like us have a responsibility to be careful with what we say and how we say it,” she continues. “The drama with Zenith was blown out of proportion, that much is for sure. People were hungry to see their downfall given that they were on top for so long but they were just as eager to drag you down with them.”

“Setting the record straight by yourself will be nearly impossible,” she states matter-of-factly. “But your friends have been preparing their statements to defend your partner, yes?”

He isn’t even surprised that she knows about this, especially a PR move this big. Working with his friends will be the best way to get the rumors to die down to a manageable level.

“Your word and Xiao’s will be what people hang onto the most. Make it count.”

“And fight for them, Scaramouche. They need you now more than ever. If you decide to ignore all my advice, then that’s fine by me. But never stop fighting for them.”

“Like hell I’d ever stop. No matter what happens, I’ll be with my partner through it all.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

i lied, this was my favorite chapter to write by far

happy new year everyone!! updates will probably slow down from here but i hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[wheneclipsefalls]

Grovel Part 3

Pairing: Aged up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Grovel Masterlist

Warnings: aged up characters, past cheating, angst, mentions of blood, trauma, nightmares, description of injuries and death, war flashbacks, fear, swearing, drinking, etc.

Summary: Lo'ak is everywhere all at once.

A/N: Sooo...a little unsure about how the writing quality of this turned out but I hope you enjoy anyways. oh also I really don't know how or why I made this chapter so long haha

“And that speech…” Talu paused to give a wistful sigh. Words were not necessary to convey how romantic she thought Lo’ak’s courting proposal was. “Sister I can only hope for the same from Neteyam soon.” The sparkling grin she threw your way proved to be anything but envious, cheeks tinting into a happy shade. 

Your own returned smile was mediocre at best, fingers still running over the mysterious pieces of your new top. No, of your new courting gift. That would never stop feeling strange, especially knowing it had come from a man that you had written off as a memory so long ago. If Talu sensed your apprehension, she didn’t show it. Nothing could stop her giddy babbling as she went about straightening your shared kelku. 

“I admit, I would not have guessed Lo’ak to be the first of the two to profess such feelings but then again this is my sister we are talking about.” Her eyes shined with pure admiration and love. “He would be a true skxawng to not tuck away his childish hesitations in favor of chasing such a gem.” 

“Talu-” You go to reprimand her dramatics but it falls on deaf ears. 

“And just think, with any luck our matings could coincide and then before you know it our children will be learning to hunt together. We could even create a connected kelku. I’ve seen a few families do it before!”

“Is that not a little much?”

Talu squealed, feet kicking like a small child. It was hard to cut off such ramblings when she was in this state. So truly disconnected from the judgments of others, letting her joy flow from her without reserve. 

“It is like becoming sisters all over again. Double sisters even. Or…” She paused thoughtfully. “However you say it.” 

“I don’t think there is such a term.” You muttered, tucking away the healing ointments into a basket. That sparkling top still lay across the floor of the marui. It had no place in your home, or at least you didn’t know where it would be. Even heaped across the floor it felt far too grand in this humble abode. 

“How have you not tried it on?” Talu gasped, kneeling down to carefully collect the garment as if handling a rare gem. “Go on! It will look dazzling on you, I know it!” 

You reared back, fingers twirling nervously away from where she offered it to you. 

“I don’t know if I will.” 

“Why not?” Talu’s head tilted to the side, tail dashing back and forth in anticipation. “Don’t worry about breaking it. I can help you get it on carefully.” 

A small smile curved at her kind invitation but you no longer knew how else to respond to her new enthusiasm. You had no interest in explaining and consequently reliving the events of you and Lo’ak’s history but neither did you want her fantasy of your twinned mating to blow out of proportion. 

“What I mean is I don’t know if I will wear it at all. Lo’ak’s courting…well…I don’t think I will accept.” 

Her ears dropped immediately, eyes widening as her tail came to a halt. Talu didn’t wait for an explanation. 

“I do not understand. Was his presentation not…sufficient?” 

You were shaking her head before she even finished. Scrambling back down to your knees to meet her at eye level. 

“No, of course it was but…I am not sure whether or not I would like to accept his courting in general. Lo’ak can be very…” You paused, searching for the right words that would get her desperate attention off of you while properly masking the past. “Annoying,” you finished lamely.

“Annoying?!” A laugh of disbelief coated the word. Her tail swooped up slightly and a spark of hope surfaced again. “By Eywa, what are you talking about?”

You knew it was the wrong choice of words the second they left your mouth. Hoping to conceal your heated blush you hastened back into straightening the room. 

“What do you mean by that?” She rephrased.

“Well Lo’ak has always been a little headstrong and…loud…and….oh he always called me names and pulled at my tail-”

It was difficult to continue now with Talu’s rampant giggling filling the room.

“All of those reasons are from when you were children. Of course he was not great for the nerves, no boy was at that time, but it has been years.” Amusement danced in her eyes, that level of disappointment already washed away. It’s not as if you could blame her truthfully. Your reasoning was lacking at best. 

“Give the male a chance to show he has changed. If his appearance is anything to go off of then we know at least one thing has changed-”

“Talu!” You hissed, chucking a woven blanket at her. Your sister’s laughter did not subside as it made contact and she dramatically rolled to the floor. Despite her suggestive joke you couldn’t help but find her joy contagious and before you knew it both of you were bursting at the seams until your stomachs ached. 

“Lo’ak has his work cut out for him. It will take more than pretty words and a few tattoos to win my sister.” She finally spoke once you were starting to catch your breath. There was no mistaking the pride in her tone. “As it should be.” She reassured you, placing a hand atop her head before exiting the kelku. 

Neteyam’s proposal came mere days later. You wondered if part of the rush was due to being upstaged by his brother but that theory was set to the side when you witnessed Lo’ak’s helping hand in the festivities. He had been the one to set off the glowing plants at the end of Neteyam’s speech, painting eclipse in a vibrant glow that washed over the smiling couple. And when Talu had given her joyful, yet contained, acceptance, Lo’ak had smiled at you from the bushes. 

Gifts came pouring in left and right, your front doorstep littered with fresh kills, baskets, berries, and woven ornaments every other day. Each gift was specifically marked from each brother, obvious that neither wanted the credit for their work to be placed on their sibling. It was almost humorous were it not for the guilt you felt in disposing of your gifts hastily. 

Talu had given you a fair share of glares when you had passed off the neat meals to some neighboring families or tied small trinkets into some of the little girl’s hair in the village. No one knew that they were from the youngest Sully son but Talu’s disapproval was enough to make you hesitate at times. And yet, that first beautiful garment remained draped over your table at home without being touched for days. 

Despite her common persuading, Talu often brushed off your resistance as your way of playing hard to get. The looks she would exchange with Neteyam when Lo’ak was brought up had your intuition sparking. You wouldn’t put it past your older sister to conspire with the eldest Sully son in the ways of helping Lo’ak woo you. 

Those suspicions were borderline confirmed as the gifts switched to very specific items and fruits that caught your fancy. One morning in particular you had woken up to your mouth watering at the smell of peanut butter coming from the entrance. Such a rare delicacy that the Sully’s had introduced you to so many years ago, your senses had become quickly attuned to its pull. 

So you ate it.

Tucked away in the corner of the marui where you could shovel it into your mouth without judgment, but you had eaten it all the same. And as the last glob of strange texture stuck to your tongue it was becoming harder and harder to feel guilty for indulging in the pleasure. 

So you stopped.

From then on out when the gifts came you sorted them into trinkets that would be shoved away and repurposed to treats you would allow yourself to enjoy. Lo’ak dropped off meals so often that it became almost unnecessary to join communal dinner. Although you would never admit it, you couldn’t resist the slowly cooked meat or even the fish that he had seasoned and prepared in such a unique way you could only associate it with him. All the same, you let yourself have it.

After all, if he wanted to waste his time hunting and foraging for your delight every day that was his prerogative. And what you did with those free offerings was yours. 

A bitter part of you couldn’t help but feel satisfied by the constant effort he was putting in. Perhaps this is what he truly deserved after breaking your heart. He could race across the forest every day trying to win your affections without result and maybe that would finally teach him to handle people’s hearts more carefully. 

In any case, this obsession would subside sooner or later and he would be chasing after another girl. Until then, it seemed logical to enjoy the splendors while you could. 

However it became increasingly more difficult to avoid his presence as the gifts poured in, especially in the company of others. Some days it felt as if Lo’ak was everywhere all at once. Helping a clan member move into their marui, joining the afternoon hunting party, taking notes at his father’s meetings. The list went on and on. It was more than you expected for the youngest son of the Olo’eyktan to have. 

And Lo’ak never missed a day. You never woke to an empty threshold and he never stopped averting his attention your way no matter the situation. Even if some days all he could afford was a loving gaze, one that made your stomach turn itself inside out. 

Your fingertips had grown wrinkly under the river’s current as you continued to scrubs at the cloth viciously. So many to get through cleaning for the healer’s tent before you could sufficiently rest from today’s labors. Still…you remembered a time where it was worse. So much worse. 

It was never too late to count your blessings. 

“The orange would look good!”

Your ears perked, recognizing the voice although it had changed over the years. Sweet Tuktirey emerged from the treeline, her older brother in tow. It was difficult to wrap your mind around how much the girl had grown since the Sully’s departure. Where once skipped a tiny optimistic child of sunshine now bloomed a beautiful young woman on the precipice of adulthood. Still only a teenager, Tuk had seen more than most people should in their early years.

It was a relief to find that the trials of war failed to dim her light. 

“I don’t need another one.” Lo’ak insisted.

Your scrubbing intensified but your breath held. Perhaps they wouldn’t see you. 

“Just a small one right here.” Tuk halted her brother sternly before carefully selecting a stray braid to bring forward. “It would look so pretty!” She giggled and Lo’ak scoffed.

“Pretty? What type of vibe do you think I’m going for?” Hands on his hips and eyes narrowing it was still easy to see the glimmer of teasing there. It only made Tuk laugh harder. 

“Whatever it is, it's too late to save you from it now.” The words barely left her lips before a shriek followed and she was racing away from her brother’s chase after her tail. The edges of your lips curved upwards. “Lo’ak!” She screeched, now trying to elbow her way out of his grasp. 

They wrestled along the rocky shore until his younger sister was gasping for a truce. Dopey grins matched as the two finally broke away to collect themselves. Your eyes refused to be diligent as you kept forcing them back at your task. 

Their laughter died down suspiciously quick and through the gentle breeze you could just barely pick up on whispering. The weight of their attention bore down on you. The scrubbing picked up tenfold. There are still three rags left but maybe-

“Y/N!” Tuk called, practically skipping your direction. There was no hope in hiding now.

You flipped over in mock surprise, a warm grin naturally taking place as you saw her rush your way. 

“Hi Tuk.” Infusing friendliness into your tone and body language you tried to keep your eyes pinned on the younger Na’vi and not her shadow that followed behind. 

“What are you doing?” She immediately swooped in to kneel beside you. 

“Tuk, don’t bother her.” Lo’ak called, gently jogging to catch up. His hair was down today, decorated braids swinging with every step. 

“I’m not bothering her!” She shot back with a huff as he came to a halt before them. Lo’ak’s dark eyebrows dropped, giving his sister a doubtful look. 

“She is fine.” You gave a firm assurance but purposefully veered your attention back at the sudsy rag. Otherwise you were sure to notice insignificant details like the return of his battle band and the way it gave a further optical illusion of his slim waist. 

“Are these from grandmother’s tent?” Tuk gestured to the pile of rags. 

“Just giving them a quick wash.” 

“All by yourself?” Her surprise at such a thing warmed your heart, even more so as she reached to grab one of the rags.

“Oh no, Tuk. It is alright. I can manage.” Your concerns are quickly shushed as she swats your hand away. “I don’t want to make you late.” 

From the look on Lo’ak’s face that is exactly what was going to happen. Whatever engagement they were currently going to was sure to be starting soon. 

“Well…” She dropped the rag, pausing for a moment. “I can’t really stay long…”

“Do not worry.” You laughed softly, placing a hand on her arm but there was a flicker of mischief in her smile. 

“But Lo’ak can help!” Within one yank to his arm she had her older brother falling to his knees. 

“Oh no Tu-”

“He’s great at washing rags! Best in our family, actually.” 

The bizarre lie almost had your panic melting into humor. You expected Lo’ak to intervene again but despite the roll of his eyes and reprimanding look shot Tuk’s way, he was already shifting to get comfortable and reach for the next rag. 

“No, really.” You caught the rag from his fingertips and alongside it his gaze as well. Pools of gold studied you with a diligence that made your skin burn. 

“I can walk myself the rest of the way.” Tuk happily chirped, rising to her feet. Ripping the cloth away you scrambled to gather the rest of the supplies. It didn’t help when two four-fingered hands gently helped you gather the mess silently. 

“I appreciate it, Tuk, but I really should head back as well.” 

Her shoulders dropped. Within a stride Lo’ak was in your space. Instinct almost had you reeling backwards before you realized it was to simply hand over the rest of the supplies. 

“We can walk you.” He offered, voice warm and smooth like falling molasses. 

“No thank you.” Two steps backwards and your lungs could finally fill with air not drenched in his essence. 

“But you’ll be at the party tonight, right?” Tuk perked over his shoulder, eyes wide and already on her toes for an answer.

“Party?” 

“More of a small get together, near the old shack.” Lo’ak corrected. 

“Anything but small. There will be food and music and an excuse to dress up.” Her hairless brows wiggled, a glee that was intoxicating. 

“I don’t know I-”

“Oh you can wear that new top! I’ve been dying to see it on someone! Lo’ak would barely let me look at it while he was making it, let alone try it on.” Supple lips formed into a pout.

“Okayyy,” He drawled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Tuk shrunk under the weight, squirming as he began to pull her back. “I think you’ve bugged the poor woman enough.” 

She hissed back at him, ducking under his arm to be released. A few comments shot between the two in English but Tuk reluctantly began to inch away. 

“We do hope you can make it.” There those eyes were again, studying you for any change. Perhaps he was waiting to see if you would shout, run off, even raise a hand at him. If so, it would be a relief to see him finally catching on to his standing with you. “Call for me if you need help. I will come.”He promised and Tuk quickly ran up to wave goodbye.

 Just as you thought the coast was clear, making your way upshore, footsteps came up fast. You turned and startled slightly to find Lo’ak so close again. He held something wrapped in leaves. 

Lo’ak held it up with a half grin. 

“Lunch, paskalin [honey].” Before you could shoot back your protests he had it tied to your bag strap and was jogging away. You watched his retreat longer that you would have cared to admit. Not your fault. Lo’ak had a way of catching you off guard. That’s all it was, you told yourself. It had nothing to do with the way sunlight danced across his shoulder blades. 

Lo’ak made it seem like attending tonight’s party was optional. A stance that Talu clearly did not share as she braided small flowers into your hair. You could try to convince her otherwise, maybe even make up a lie but you knew better than to underestimate Talu’s ability to shackle you into social events. When she had an idea in her head nothing would sway her away. 

Yet another reason your theory of her aiding the younger Sully son concerned you. Although you’d hate to believe it, it would surely only take witnessing a few of her conversations with Neteyam to confirm such meddling. And with how often Neteyam swept her away, there was simply too much time for scheming to take place. 

“Don’t you think it is a little rude not to wear it?” Talu huffed, holding the sparkling top out to you. The same one a certain Sully had gifted.  

“Seems more rude to give him false hope by wearing it.” 

“Oh come now, you can’t seriously claim there is no hope for him to cling to.” Talu rolled her eyes, carefully turning each piece of the top so it laid in the right direction. When faced with your deadpanned expression she let out a sight, shoulders dropping. “I’m just saying it would match nicely with the flowers.”

“I’m wearing the purple vines.” You reiterated, eyes narrowing.

“Alright alright,” She carefully laid down the garment and turned to show her surrender. “Have it your way.” 

It would be foolish to believe that her acceptance would be anything more than short lived. Bracing yourself for the night ahead you carefully dressed and began crafting a game plan. Anything that would keep Lo’ak off your back and therefore sail you through the party swiftly. 

Tuk was right. This ‘small gathering’ was anything but intimate. While it was clear that not all clan members were not invited, it was obvious which demographic they were catering to. Almost every young single warrior, healer, and gatherer had shown up with dazzling garments and the motivation to whisk the night into a frenzy. Frankly it was surprising that Tuk’tirey was allowed at this party at all. 

Then again, she came with three taller, older escorts flanking her sides. 

You could practically feel Talu’s grin, although she strategically turned to hide it. She had a way with men that seemed to serve her well. Never reveal your cards too early. 

It was a success for as far as you could tell because the future Olo’eyktan barely made out simple greetings as his eyes were drawn back to your sister like a moth to flame. It was starting to get uncomfortable. And although you couldn’t be more happy for your sister, it became clear that taking your turns around the gathering would serve you better. 

The old shack was something you had never ventured to see. As children with the Sullys you had refused to get anywhere near it. Even now as it was almost entirely swallowed by Eywa’s forest and your friends served drinks from inside, it felt as if hallowed spirits still drifted through its ugly halls. There were too many memories held in that strange kelku. And while none of them were yours, the familiar RDA symbols had it feeling all too personal. 

Steering away from the looming structure you found solace in a circle of young females. Most were warriors that you had little interaction with but you had spent enough time Penyau in the healer’s tent to consider her a friend, so her presence was sufficient. You were only half listening as the topic flowed from upcoming gatherings to new gems found in the nears caves. Nothing that you were interested in chiming in on but the circle of females were your armor against Lo’ak. And that’s all that mattered. 

At least, that is what you assumed until a finger was tapping you on the shoulder. 

A flurry of golden eyes immediately snapped to the space behind you. It was clear who stood there even before you turned around. 

“Good evening, sisters. Do I mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment?”

“More than a moment if you’d like.” One female responded with a suggestive smirk and that earned her a series of giggling laughter. It gave Lo’ak more than enough courage to lead you away. 

Once out of their ear shot there was no more reason to play nice. 

“Dinner.” Lo’ak said simply, gently handing over the leaf of meat. 

His gentle expression was met with a scowl.

“I can get my own food, Lo’ak. I am in no need of being fed like a child.” Although, the food was currently being served inside of the shack and you would rather starve than set foot in there. However, that information was none of Lo’ak’s business. 

“Of course you do not need it, paskalin.” His deep chuckle was accompanied by a smile that was far too resilient. “But I have committed to courting you and part of that is proving my ability to provide. So as far as I’m concerned I will treat you as if that responsibility has already fallen on my shoulders.” 

“Well, it’s not.” Sharp words and a quick shove had your hands empty once more. Although his tail drooped there was an indistinguishable flame of determination present in his countenance. This man was going to be the death of you. “And I’m not hungry.” 

“Too full from the peanut butter?” He guessed with a crooked smile. It cracked your composure for a split second. Both of those dark eyebrows raised. They taunted you because one way or another Lo’ak had come to figure out the truth and he knew there was no way to refute it. 

Jaw clenched and arms crossed, your eyes flashed back with that same fervent challenge. Even as that handsome face threatened to melt you into a puddle you held your ground. How arrogant could he be to still dare showing his face at you like this after everything? Those white teeth on display as if he had won the prize. Beaded braids pulled up into a neat bun to show off his defined shoulders and chest like a true whore. Wearing that frayed tewng that danced like true seduction in the wind as if he would be getting anything close to lucky tonight. 

It was baffling to try and understand where he got such nerve. 

“Well if you are so persistent on making yourself useful then maybe you should shift your efforts towards getting me a drink instead.” It wasn’t often that you partook in strong drink. The idea often felt childish and pointless. Tonight however….tonight it sounded like an Eywa-send in getting through these interactions. 

Anything that would soar you through this nightmare would be welcomed with open arms. 

“Of course, tanhi.” Lo’ak shook his head with a fond grin. 

Before he could depart however, you caught his arm. He halted immediately. 

“From there.” You pointed towards the furthest corner of the shack. A small gaggle of Na’vi were sprawled out across the floor in giggling fits. It was clear from the look in their eyes that not a single worry could fall upon them. Their drink was strong, no doubt about it. 

“You don’t want that.” 

“And how do you know?”

Lo’ak set the food down to mimic your stance, arms flexed as they crossed. 

“That shit will knock you into next week.”

“And you somehow know that is what I don’t like?” You challenged. “Who's to say I don’t drink it on the regular? Unless you somehow had ways of stalking me all the way from Awa’atlu.” 

You expected him to sigh and admit defeat with reluctance. Maybe throw in a few claims to battle your own but Lo’ak was never one to meet your expectations. He took two strides forward. He had no right to invade your space but somehow the idea of stepping back looked like defeat. 

“That, paskalin, is from Awa’atlu. I should know because I brought it. And I will tell you honestly that pxir [type of alcohol] is nothing like the sweet drinks we make here. It is mostly drunk by men two times your size.” Lo’ak tucked a curl behind your ear. “It will fuck you up.” 

It was not the first time Lo’ak had your teeth grinding to the point of your jaw aching, and you feared it would neither be the last. Even as children he had a way of getting under your skin, tugging at your hair, making teasing comments that had you hissing back at him. That special skill had not been lost, but now…now you knew how to deal with cocky Sully men. 

“I don’t remember asking for the lineage, skxawng.” Your nimble fingers drew your thick hair over one shoulder. “But if you don’t want to get it for me, I’m sure I could find another capable suitor that will.” 

To his credit, Lo’ak’s mask stayed in place. It was the rising of his shoulders that gave away your success. A deep breath was drawn into his lung and that smile waivered like grinding gears that had grown rusty. It shifted into something resembling more of a sarcastic grin. 

“Fine.” He huffed, his show of pearly whites demonstrating anything but joy. “Have it your way, tanhi.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he went to retrieve a share of pxir. He couldn’t return soon enough. If you had to endure his intoxicating scent and teasing grin for one more moment without aid, the night would end in violence. Lo’ak kept his own small bowl of drink after handing you one. 

He waited, watching you closely. Perhaps he thought you were going to back out. A small voice in your head said that it might have been best but it was too late to retreat now. So with the best mask of confidence you could muster, you held the bowl up in cheers and took a large gulp. 

The taste was fowl!

Absolutely horrific as it seethed your throat with fire. How did any of the Metkayina chose such a drink in full consciousness? Lo’ak patted your back as you choked on the few remaining drops that had gone down the wrong tube. The gesture was quickly swatted away. Your own annoyance only rising as you looked down to see that he had already finished his bowl in silence. 

“It’s a shock to the system I know…no Y/N don’t-”

Three more gulps and that scorching fire was settled in your stomach and the bowl empty. Your nose tingled like it was about to erupt as your eyes squeezed shut. 

“Woah hey, easy there.”

“Another.” Your tone came out like gravel as you handed him the bowl. 

“Uh yeah right.” He scoffed, taking it away. The liquid only spiked your courage, pushing you to face the male head on but then…it unfortunately had you sense of gravity shifting as well. Lo’ak quickly wrapped a securing arm around your waist as you stumbled a few steps. Shit, this stuff worked fast. “Here, eat something.” 

He brought a piece of yerik meat to your lips and that made you squirm to get away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snipped.

“Pxir is worse on an empty stomach, trust me.” 

“That easy huh?”

Lo’ak sighed, bringing the food down. “Okay I deserved that but-”

“I don’t want your food, Lo’ak.” There was still enough coordination left to wiggle yourself out of his grasp and stomp to the other side of the gathering. In all fairness, the ground did move side to side with every step but you managed just the same. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape him even while dancing. Toruk Makto’s youngest son remained leaned against a tree on the outskirts, eyes pinned on you diligently. It felt as if you could never get a break from his weighted presence. Why was he not enjoying the party like everyone else? Was it really worth skipping out on getting drunk with old friends just to babysit you?

Walking, let alone dancing, was a struggle but you made a crooked path to him as fast as you could, one hand pushing against his chest. Lo’ak barely flinched.

“You’re watching me.” You accused him. 

“First experience with Metkayina alcohol requires supervision.” 

“And you have to do it from the shadows like a stalker?” Your words were already slurring together but it was hard to tell if that was how it sounded out loud or simply the distortions of your inhibited brain. 

“I’d be more than happy to keep a closer eye on you but it seemed like you wanted space.” He shrugged, eyes darting to where you swayed back and forth. 

“You’re right. I do.” One pointed finger stabbed at his chest with each word. Eywa, he was so warm. 

His mouth opened to treat you to yet again his annoyingly low baritone but then….

“Your sister is calling you.” 

Your claim had his brows raising before slowly turning around to look. It seemed that Eywa was on your side tonight after all because Tuktirey was in fact trying to get down one of her beaded chains from a high branch. How it got up there was a mystery to you but one that you had no interest in solving. 

A forced breath puffed from his nose before he turned back towards you.

“Just,” His lips pressed into a thin line, ears tucking back. “Stay here. Eat something.” That leaf of meat was tucked into your hand before Lo’ak was stalking towards his younger sister. 

As if.

You carelessly flung the leaf away, taking in this new breath of freedom. Eywa only knew where Talu was and conversing with the girls once more no longer seemed appealing but there was still one thing on your mind. The same thing that would erase all other thoughts and help you survive. 

Lo’ak had taken his share of the pxir with him so you were forced to find your own means of acquiring some. Going into the old shack was still not on your agenda but surely you could think of some plan before getting there. And just like that an idea hit you.

Quite literally. 

The male let out a small grunt as you incidentally knocked into him. Immediately strong arms were steadying you back into place with a half hearted laugh.

“Apologies, sister. Woah hey, you got it?” The male was tall and strong, a wall of muscle with a battle band meaning he must have been a warrior. His features held a flame of familiarity but you couldn’t recall his name. However, looking down at the bowl in his hand you realized he perfectly met your two requirements. 

He wasn’t Lo’ak.

He had pxir. 

“Irayo [thank you], I’m just a little…knocked off my axis.” 

He had a pleasing smile. And his braids were shiny. A few clumsy bats of your lashes and the male was already rising to play the hero. He guided you carefully to a stump where you could sit, saying another quiet apology and offering his services. 

“There isn’t anything I can do for you?” At first you figured he was nothing more than a sweet gentleman who somehow got his hands on the strong drink by luck. However, when your eyes locked with his you could see the faintest tremble of a smirk wanting to take place. 

Not too well behaved after all. 

Just what the doctor ordered. 

“Well, I am a little thirsty.” You couldn’t quite remember what a seductive expression would look like and doing that while riding the line of innocence and suggestive was nothing more than a train wreck. 

He wasn’t picky though. 

Neither was his price high as he brought you bowl after bowl of strong drink. The two of you began to make games out of it. Seeing who could drink the fastest. Seeing who could still stand up straight. These little contests became funnier with every sip, although this mysterious man had size on his side and therefore started to smoke your ass at every game. 

You couldn’t remember how you made it back to the dance floor. You weren’t even sure if you were doing anything more than swaying in place but it didn’t really matter when you had him to cling on to. The drinks kept coming even as your head grew heavy and eyes blurry until the scene was just pretty streaks of color. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him take a sip but he never asked you to stop, making trip after trip for more.

A wave of victory washed over you upon spotting Lo’ak’s scowl from the sidelines. This was the perfect plan indeed. So perfect that you must not have been that drunk after all. You had the Sully boy off of your ass and a handsome male keeping you from falling down as you drank away the worries. 

At some point in time you recalled heated voices coming from above. Another taller frame pressing against your opposite side until you are sandwiched. The heat of wandering hands. Your giggles that rang in your ears in such a funny way it had you laughing again. 

It was warm. Oh so warm.

And his hair danced in the breeze beneath your fingertips, shells and beads clinking together.  

And fragments…the night only existed in fragments.

Ones that trickled off into nothing. 

The nightmare had come on fast. Like a strike from the sky then suddenly you were transported back into that heated tent. Blood spilled from seeping pools along the floor to small clumps that might just never come out from under your nails. Tendons and bone and metal balls. Things that were never meant to be together but time after time you were forced to dig out these demon bullets from warm bodies. 

You hit the floor with a thud. Footsteps scrambled across the space. 

The explosions continued in the background. Like fire in the sky that these demons had somehow figured out how to harness. And as you frantically stitched up a gushing wound you couldn’t help but wonder where it had hit. Who it had hit. Your work was getting messy. Not only from your shaking hands but the squirming of the man beneath you. His cries would never leave you.

Arms wrapped around you but they couldn’t stop your shaking. They couldn’t stop the endless line of battered bodies they came through the tent. 

Rumble and crack, sounds that rattled in your chest the same way it shook the ground. You stopped looking at their faces, afraid of who you could see. Had you already stitched up a friend? A child? Your sister…no, she was on your left. She never spoke on these days, covered in blood up to her elbows. 

How long had it been? 

How much longer did you have to go?

Your fingertips were becoming slippery but you wouldn’t look to see what they were covered in. Not when another person was carried to your feet. Not when…not when those screams sound far too young to be more than a child. 

No more.

No more no more no more no more.

Please no more!

“Mawey, tanhi. I’ve got you.”

Another crack. Another vibration. The lump in your throat was sure to be a sob but no one would hear you even if it were to bubble up. It would be drowned in the sea of anguish. Just the way no one would see your shaking hands through the mist of teary eyes. Your throat knotted. You couldn’t get oxygen through just in the same way the chest beneath your hands couldn’t. It heaved and heaved before halting. 

His heart had stopped.

Would yours stop too?

It didn’t matter. There was no time to think about your own oxygen. Just keep going. Don’t stop. Never stop.

“Open your eyes, sevin, please. Open your eyes for me.”

And you were a coward for shifting away but how could they ask you to look? How could they expect you to see the carnage that was once your friends and family? How did war have a way of turning passionate souls into nothing more than fractured skin and bone? It was all you could see now. 

Just blood.

And bone.

And your crooked stitches from cowardice hands. 

“Y/N!”

In a snap you were met with a different view. A canopy of fabrics above, not the same as the healer’s tent. A firm chest pressed against your back and sweet words that resembled nothing of screams. 

The explosions were here though. And each rumble of power was followed by a strike of light and that sharp rippling sound. 

“Please.” You whispered.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you.” A voice soothed and you could only drown in the wetness along your cheeks. Rocked back and forth side to side but the explosions never stopped. 

New sounds accompanied the first and it was only the throb in your throat that revealed it was your own sobs being let loose. Warm skin pressed against your forehead, lips that weren’t outlined in blood. 

“It’s over.” The voice promised. 

You wanted to tell the truth. To say that it would never be over. It could never be over. Not when the memory infiltrated every space in your mind, corrupting what little light was still there. 

You didn’t have enough air to say it, however. Your own cries were what filled the night as the voice whispered soothing promises. Fingers ran through your hair and a heartbeat was beneath your cheek. 

Your eyes gave out before the rumbling did. 

The gentle sway was relaxing. The sound of rain doing even more to calm you slumber as you snuggled deeper into the soft blanket. Fingers grasping at the material, you breathed in the scent with eased contentment. The essence alone was enough to tempt you into falling right back asleep.

Perhaps you could stay here forever. Snuggled in your bed.

That way you would never have to open your eyes because doing so was sure to spin you off your axis. The pounding in your head could only be blamed on last night’s overindulgence but Talu hadn’t come to wake you up yet, so it was fine. 

The branches of your top dug into your side upon turning over and you squirmed to shift it. Much less soft than the usual tops you wore to bed. Did you not change before falling asleep?

Sifting through your memory, however, all you could retrieve was the sound of a calm heart beat and a fresh fragrance that wrapped around you. The same one that filled your lungs from the blanket. 

Your eyes snapped open. 

This was not your room. You could tell from the first glimpse at the overhead marui structure. And with one more inhale that essence led you to believe you knew exactly whose home you were in. Head aching and body feeling like it has the strength of a rag doll you slowly turned to observe your surroundings. With a cringe you held your breath. One look over had your apprehensions confirmed. 

Sprawled out across the kelku floor on the opposite side of the space lay Lo’ak, sound asleep. 

He had one arm tucked beneath his head with a small blanket thrown over his lap that barely covered anything. Long legs strewn messily along the woven floor, his soft lips were parted with just a whisper of breath passing. Glossy braids outlined his chiseled features into something softer. Something that had you turning away abruptly. 

The action only rewarded you with a spinning room, lifting from all sense of reality as you tried not to hurl your guts on his floor. Taking deep breaths you eventually calmed your head and stomach enough to start thinking through your next course of action. 

You hadn’t even attempted to stand up and it had already been a close call, so sneaking away gracefully seemed like an unlikely feat. Still…Lo’ak was asleep. And if his heavy breathing was anything to go by, he was well under.

Rain still trampled the scene outside but the thunder and lightning were gone, at least for now. Your eyes pinched shut, cheeks heating as you tried to to push away the memory of Lo’ak rocking you in his arms. 

All the more reason to get out of here without having to interact. 

Lo’ak’s groan made you freeze in place, one leg already reaching outside of the hammock. He shifted, propping one leg up before letting out a sigh. You prayed to Eywa he was a heavy sleeper. 

It wouldn’t have mattered in the end, however, because when both feet were planted and you went to stand it only resulted in a collapsing with a screech that would have woken up the neighbors, let alone the male sleeping a few paces away. 

Rushed footsteps sounded before two hands tried to help you back up.

“Hey, take it easy.” The tone of his voice had dropped to a rough rumble, thick with the last string of sleep. 

You gulped.

Shoving him off was too much of an effort at this point and to your dismay it seemed that the only way back on your feet was to accept his help. He didn’t give you a chance to try running again, instead helping lift you back onto his bed. With a groan you threw your arm over your eyes. 

It felt as if your head had been trampled beneath a Bone Helm Rhino’s feet. 

“Lo’ak,” You said slowly. “What am I doing in your home? Or more specifically, in your bed?” 

“You really should drink some water.” You could hear him shuffling, mostly likely going to get you some.

“Lo’ak.” Tongue wielded like a knife you took the little energy you had to muster up some remnants of intimidation. 

He sighed. 

“Don’t worry. Nothing like that happened last night. I promise.” 

Despite your frustration, you believed him. Your clothes were still in tack and it appeared that Lo’ak had spent the entire night sleeping on his floor so you could take the bed. Another part of you was more frustrated by the gesture. He was being such a gentleman it was borderline sickening. Why couldn’t you be left alone to hate him in peace? 

“Oh really?” You countered. “Then what did?” 

Although you could feel his stare, the arm over your eyes added a false sense of protection from his intensity. 

“Exactly what I said would happen. You got drunk off your ass and needed someone to take you home.”

Your arm dropped sharply, heating rushing to your face.

“And you thought that meant taking me to your home?” The sound of your own raging voice caused a ringing in your ears. Lo’ak remained unfazed, a leaf of water already waiting in his other hand. 

“I would’ve walked you home tanhi but…” He cringed slightly.

“But what?” You pressed, eyes narrowing. 

“Well it was my horny brother that would have kept you up all night so I figured it was my responsibility to help you find some place more…comfortable.” 

Your nose scrunched. So many tiny pieces of information yet nothing was coming together to create a true picture of what had been your prior night’s experience. 

“He stayed over?” It shouldn’t have surprised you. Talu and Neteyam were progressing at such a fast rate you sometimes wondered if mating was only a few weeks away. Staying the night was only bound to happen before then, especially with those secretive looks that you were forced to witness. 

“Still is.” Lo’ak urged the leaf forward, which you reluctantly accepted. Even the cool water burned your battered throat. “I didn’t want them waking you.” 

“Sure.” You deadpanned.

“He is not the quietest-”

“Ew! Lo’ak, I don’t want to hear about that.” You reeled back, desperately trying to erase invading images of your sister and the future Olo’eyktan as fast as possible. You loved your sister but hearing about her sex life was not on your list of priorities. A sentiment you wish she had in common with you but there were far too many times that she pushed for information on your end.

Lo’ak laughed and leaned back onto his haunches. 

“Well neither do I but it’s information I am burdened with.” His fingers ran through his braids. “Shared a marui with him in Awa’atlu for far too long.” Lo’ak muttered. 

“So it’s a good thing you’re here. Won’t have to witness it for yourself.” He patted your knee with a smile before rising to refill the water. You scowled at his back, amiss that he couldn’t properly see your disdain. 

With the clouded sky it was difficult to tell how long you had been there but you were ready to suffer the physical strain of walking back in this horrid state if it meant avoiding addressing the elephant in the room. 

“Well excuse me if I’m not quick to thank you but I really should be getting back now.” 

He eyed you cautiously from across the room. Putting on a tough facade was difficult when your limbs would hardly coordinate as your head pounded relentlessly. You didn’t manage to swing your legs over the hammock again before Lo’ak had crossed the room and was handing you more water. 

“One thing I know about Neteyam is that he likes to take his damn time. It’s going to be a while.” 

“Oh please, all men claim that.” You scoffed, taking the water from his hands. “Surely even the walk back would be enough time.” You scoffed after downing the liquid. 

“Tanhi, you are brutal.” Lo’ak said with an amused chuckle. 

“No, I’m realistic.”

“Pessimistic.” He corrected, eyebrows raised in a challenge. 

You tapped a finger against your chin as if in deep thought. “Hm let me guess, you are the great exception then? Your claim to a woman's pleasure being sincere for once.”

Those golden orbs darkened slightly, his tail swishing in a slow rhythm. “I don’t have to claim anything. Actions speak louder than words.” 

That glimmer of mischief sparked just the same as it did when he was a child. However this time it held promises of things far less innocent. You wondered how many Metkayina women had fallen prey to that vibrant spark. His appeal was undeniable and yet another reason the sight of him made your blood boil. 

When were you ever going to catch a break? Your racing heart could surely use one. 

“Typical.” You scoffed, finally relenting to being trapped, flopping onto your back. 

Lo’ak chuckled and rose, towering over where you laid. From this angle you could see far too much, every chiseled muscle in his body contrasted by the low light. 

“Well if you ever want to examine the evidence up close yourself, I am at your beck and call.” He tucked one stray strand away from your forehead and retreated before you could reprimand him. Heat sparked down from your face until reaching your collarbones. 

He was such an asshole. Thinking there would ever be a day where you would want that. You were not another doe eyed female he could win over. Even if your eyes strayed far too long as he began adjusting the waterproof fabrics to hang from the marui’s openings. That superficial attraction meant nothing but that you were in the prime mating season of your life. Hormones were a powerful force but not enough for you to forget what he had done. 

If any other typical warrior were to take his place the effect would have surely been the same. In fact you remembered feeling that pull to another male last night.

Your tail curled around your thigh. What had happened to him? Flashes of dancing and drinking with the warrior were strong enough to be real but beyond that everything else was a blur. All you knew is that he was more than willing to bring you drink after drink. 

Did he see you leave with Lo’ak at the end of the party? There may not have been any true long term interest for the male but you would still feel bad if running off with Lo’ak had snipped him in some way. Especially when getting further entangled with the Olo’eyktan’s youngest son was the last thing you desired. 

When Lo’ak scaled the side support beam to flank down the next cover, you caught sight of scabbed marks along his knuckles. 

“You hit him?!” 

“What?” Lo’ak casted you a glance from where he hung from the beam, thighs flexed around the base to keep him in place. 

A fiery glare was shot at his hand.

“Oh this,” He peeled the hand from the bar, casually using one arm to keep a grip. “Yeah I met your special friend last night.” The frown upon his lips showed that he had anything but fond memories of the interaction.

“What a character he is.” Lo’ak grumbled lowly, more so to himself than you. 

Like lightning a flash of anger coursed through your veins. Clenched fists and wobbly legs scrambled to push you back into an upright position. 

“Lo’ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan you had no right!”

His legs unfurled and he hung from the bar with one hand, the other out in form of surrender.

“Now wait a minut-”

“You think that just because you want to court me that it puts me off the market for all other men? It’s not their fault that you are too stubborn to let me ignore you peacefully! So what now? Are you going to punch every male that looks in my direction?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Can’t even handle the slightest bite of competition?” 

His eyes narrowed, ears pinned backwards as he leveled you with a fierce stare. It was too late. You were on a roll. 

Ignoring the swirling of the room you stomped over to him, finger poking aggressively into his chest as you spoke. “If you don’t like seeing me with other suitors then I suggest you skip to the inevitable outcome and find yourself another woman to annoy! Maybe she will take your constant nagging as a compliment.” 

Your chest heaved from the effort, lungs filling with oxygen rapidly as silence fell. An eerie silence that made you shudder from the drafting wind. Lo’ak watched you, voice stoic of emotion before fixing the last flap and dropping to his feet with a thud. Towering over you like a shadow in the night, it was difficult to force yourself to keep from stepping back. 

Two more steps and he was close enough to feel the heat of his skin. 

“Napau is a crook and disgrace to the title he held. Any man that schemes to take advantage of a woman under strong drink against her will does not deserve to breathe the air Eywa gives. He is lucky that I only had time to get a few hits in.” Lo’ak’s voice dropped into a low register that burned with seething fire. 

“He knows what will happen if he crosses my path again. Or Neteyam’s for that matter.” Dark promises whistled in his words, an intense sincerity that had your own nerves rattling. You could only imagine how Napau would have fared under that same intimidation last night. 

And then Lo’ak was gone, calmly walking to the other side of kelku to secure the next flap. 

A mixture of embarrassment, regret, and dread swirled in your chest. If what Lo’ak said was true then last night could have ended so much worse than it did. A million possible scenarios crammed themselves to the front of your mind until you could feel nausea settling in. During the party you couldn’t even remember Napau’s name and yet that was almost the man taking you to bed. 

“You…You told Neteyam?”

“He saw enough to confirm the origin of my actions. Napau won’t bother you again, tanhi.” He didn’t turn to face you, pulling on the rope tight to keep the fabric in place. 

“What does that mean?” A part of you was reluctant to ask but you needed to know what became of him and even more so what had almost become of you. 

It seemed Lo’ak was even more reluctant than you to talk about it when his tail dropped and he let out a heavy sigh. He remained diligent in waterproofing the marui despite the heavy topic. 

“It means he got off with more mercy than he deserved. As I said he was not worthy of the warrior title he held so that was remedied and now he knows better than to come within half a mile of you or me.” 

“His title was revoked? How is that even possible? Without the proper authority-”

“Neteyam will be Olo’eyktan soon enough. One word to my father from him will be enough, trust me.” He peeked over his shoulder, watching the way your eyes ran from side to side as you processed the information. It was too much to sort in your hazy mind, too many emotions that couldn’t be felt separately. 

Lo’ak softened.

Leaving the flap aside he made gentle steps in your direction, careful not to scare you away. 

“Don’t let this weigh on you, tanhi. It has been solved.” Voice smooth and tender, it didn’t matter because it was clear your mind was somewhere else. 

“What did he do exactly?” 

That struck Lo’ak into a posture as stiff as a board. His tail froze and eyes melted back into that stormy gold color. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Well I do.” You insisted, catching his arm when he went to turn. His whole body froze this time, eyes darting down to where you clasped his forearm. Lo’ak had grown tall, taller than most Na’vi thanks to his father’s Avatar genes. It therefore required your neck craning backward to stare up at him properly. 

“I am grateful to Eywa that you do not have to remember such events.”

“But-”

“However, I can assure you that he got no further than a few unwanted kisses and squeezes before I stepped in.” Lo’ak stayed in place, no longer in a rush to fix the kelku as you let his words marinate. It was harder to feel the true wash of relief when your own shouts against the Sully son had been reframed into something more brutal. Apologizing felt like the last thing you wanted to do, especially since a part of you could not let go of your lingering anger towards him. 

Lo’ak had saved you. 

Why couldn’t you have saved yourself?

All because your stupid pride and spite towards the male had clouded your judgment into behaving foolishly. This is not who you were. Never before had you indulged in such reckless behavior and yet within the first couple weeks of the Sullys returning this is what Lo’ak got to see of you. What type of sorcery did his mere presence hold to shove you into madness? 

Lightning struck from above, thunder falling far too quickly after. 

Nails digging into Lo’ak’s arm, you watched the sky carefully through the front entrance. 

“It bothers me too.” 

His voice snapped you back to attention as hard as the crackling lightning. 

“The storm.” He clarified, meeting your startled gaze with a soft composure. “The sound is all too…familiar.” 

There were no further words needed to understand what he meant. The Sky Demon’s erupting fire had been relentless. Always taking. Always destroying. Crumbling your land before you in a matter of blinking. Awa’atlu no doubt had not been exempt from such cruelty.

“Should I feel sorry for you then?” The cycle of storm started up again and with the next crack of lightning your voice came out shakier than intended. 

Lo’ak’s shoulders fell.

“No tanhi,” He sighed, pausing for a moment. “I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy. I only want you to know that I would never judge you for feeling that fear too.” His eyes flickered down to where you still dug into his arm as the storm carried forward. 

You quickly snapped away, taking a few steps back for measure. Veering your attention away from the entrance, you hoped the lack of visual would keep you from crumbling further in terror. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled.

“And we don’t have to.” 

Such a different tune than the one Lo’ak often sang but one look at his expression showed that he was not lying. 

“But you know where I am if you ever do.” He gave a half smile and crossed to put the last flap over the entrance. You weren’t oblivious to the occasional glance he casted from the corner of his eye to check up on you. 

Having the marui enclosed completely did aid in dampening your anxiety. It gave you a moment to look around and fully take in your surroundings. It had only been a few weeks since the Sullys had returned to the forest so you were surprised to see his living space so thoroughly crafted. Small candles lit a soft glow that seemed to fill the area with warmth. 

Thinking of Lo’ak you would have expected his space to be covered with a messy floor and toppled gear but what you found was quite the contrary. Neat baskets held smaller household items while his weapons were securely kept in hanging shelves. Spears, bows, knives, and other Sky Demon weaponry. Your eyes were caught on the ominous guns before getting snapped away by the sound of thunder. 

Your arms snaked around your own waist, willing your heart rate to slow. 

Soft lips threatened to break beneath your sharp teeth. Although exhausted it felt as if your body was on a buzz, a vibration that would have you shattering to pieces. 

“How do you deal with it?” The question sprung without thought. 

“With what?” You had his attention now, his hands swiping at the rain covering his arms. 

“The storm. If it bothers you so much, how do you manage?” Although initially embarrassed by your impromptu question it did help to shift the weight over to Lo’ak instead of you. Anything to avoid bringing up the way you had cried in his arms. 

Lo’ak surprisingly lit up at the inquiry. A smile curved at his lips and the air of a secret you were not privy to filled his aura. 

“I have a secret weapon.” He said proudly, motioning for you to follow him as he quickly dropped to his knees and shuffled through baskets. At the mention of weapons you were already hesitant, stiff as a board. However, for as far as you knew everything that could do harm was on the other side of his marui, so you slowly dropped to your knees beside him. 

Lo’ak pulled out on those glowing squares that the scientists were always tapping on. You’d seen them many times in your trips to the outpost but never were interested in becoming familiar with it. This one was smaller, though. So small it fit in the palm of his hand. Then he pulled out another metal object that was an oval shape. 

With a few taps on the tiny pad the oval began singing. You shuffled backwards, almost hitting the hammock behind, as if the small device would attack. When it made no other movement you relaxed and awkwardly crouched back into place. To his credit, Lo’ak tried to hide his laughter. 

Sky Demon music is strange. So different from the lively drums that accompanied their ceremonies. From the foreign words to strange layers of sound it was always too overwhelming. But this song stood apart. 

No language to throw you off but whistling of high and low that would meld into perfect harmony. Lo’ak watched as you creeped ever closer. Despite its soft essence the music gently floated over the sound of thunder and lightning until it felt like the only air filling the marui.

Your tail curled lazily along the floor. Hands bracing yourself forward you drank in every note and phrases that formed together. There was no way of predicting which message would sprout from one to the next but somehow it maintained that perfect fluidity. Like the roots of the trees that intertwined all greenery together, this song was its own habitat. 

“Beautiful.” Lo’ak murmured, like a whisper of a secret. 

“Beautiful.” You couldn’t help but agree, but when you looked up his eyes were only set on you. Warmth crackled through your veins. 

He rose to his feet second after and you craned to look at him. 

“I will go drag my brother out so you can go home. At least make sure he’s decent.” His right ear twitched as a glimmer of amusement snuck through. “But you are free to stay as long as you like.”

The rain was still coming down in sheets outside. When Lo’ak pushed the cover aside you could see another flash of light from the sky. He stepped out into the shower without hesitation, braids becoming shiny in the rain. For a moment you considered protesting, insisting that he wait until the storm had passed, but you feared the contradiction. Only a mere moment ago you were stumbling to return. 

“Tanhi, you were right.” Lo’ak called over the pounding rain. “It did bother me to see you with him.” 

There and gone within a flash. You were left to sit in his kelku with lips parted and head more dizzy than ever. Despite how much there was to unpack you allowed yourself to sink into the sweet melody. Curling up with the blanket that had fallen to the floor you decided that you didn’t have to go back, not just yet. 

“Kaltxi [hello], traitor.” You huffed after breaching the entrance. There was no sight of Neteyam but you could still smell his specific essence in the air. Talu’s ears twitched up at the sound of your voice, pausing from where she was cleaning her room. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” She chastised you but a smile was already forming along her lips. She tugged the trunk from the corner quickly and sat down atop it. Elbows resting on her crossed legs and eyes shining with interest, her keen attitude was far too much for your hungover state to handle. “Tell me everything!” 

“Where would you like me to start? Waking up today in another man’s bed? Or maybe I could tell the story from when you decided to toss me off to him so you could entertain a certain prince last night.” Your arms crossed and nose scrunched as you glared down at her. 

Your agitation only increased when Talu let out a short laugh. 

“Toss you off? Tsmuke [sister] I could not have pried you away from him last night.” Her correction was accompanied by her own body language mimicking yours, lips tempted into a playful smirk. It made your own countenance falter. 

“What are you talking about?” Narrowed eyes pinned her into place but Talu already wore a giddy grin. 

“I tried several times to take you home last night but you would not have it. You were glued to Lo’ak’s side, kept talking about how good he smelled.” Her smile only grew as fire burned into your cheeks. “He even offered to walk you home but it was you that insisted upon staying with him. You were absolutely smitten.” She giggled.

“I was absolutely drunk!” You hissed, tailing coiling around your own ankle. You ran your fingers through the root of your tangled hair, eyes squeezing shut in horror. This is not how Lo’ak had told the story. Why would he have spun it differently? “And you just let me fall all over him? Let him take me back to his place so you could fuck his older brother?!”

“Mawey tiyawn [calm down love],” She urged, voice far gentler than your own as she stood and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Lo’ak promised nothing would happen and I believed him especially after…” That usual soft composure sharpened into something fierce. You knew exactly what she was remembering. You were confident that Talu would snap Napau in half herself were it not for Lo’ak getting their first. Despite her sweet and tempered demeanor your sister could be vicious once provoked. She had a protective streak that no one could dampen. 

“Yes yes I know.” You groaned. 

“So then you know that it’s all handled then. Neteyam is on his way to talk to Olo’eyktan right now.”

“Don’t remind me.” You spoke on an exhale, arms dropping to your side. This headache was never going to go away and now it had more ammunition to swirl it into chaos. Was it really as bad as Talu described? How were you ever going to face him again? And yet Lo’ak had not spoken of your clinging once. 

“He was quite heroic.” Talu smiled, finger moving to start releasing the knots in your hair. “I thought after how scared you were with Napau that you would want to return home immediately but you melted so easily in Lo’ak’s arms. A few minutes of playing with his hair and you were happy as a clam.”

You covered your heated face, stomach twisting as you imagined the scene. 

“Bury me ten feet under.” You whined, slumping into her arms. Talu shushed your worries, nimble fingers doing wonders for your chaotic hair. 

“Oh now don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure Lo’ak would never hold it against you.”

And he didn’t. In fact, he went out of his way to spin another story with the omission of your embarrassing desires. Why would he do that? He had been given the perfect ammunition. The perfect proof that you were interested in him and yet he had done nothing with it? Threw it out before even utilizing it. 

Surely there was some leverage to be gained after all of his courting to now find you falling all over him. 

None of it made sense and perhaps the remnants of pxir were stronger than you anticipated. It seemed as if the world had been spun on its top. You were nowhere closer to unwinding this web now than you were a few hours ago so you might as well rest. With that in mind you unclasped yourself from Talu’s arms and told her you were going to lay down. 

Hallway out the door way she stopped you. 

“You aren’t mad, are you? Truly?” Her voice wavered with hesitation for the first time since your arrival. “It wasn’t my intention to bring him home but once you were in such good hands….well, the night was so perfect and-”

“It is fine.” You reassured her, hand lazily landing on her shoulder. 

“Thank you.” Talu whispered, her eyes melting into a warm honey hue. You shrugged it off. 

“I hope he was worth it.” You snorted but one look at the Talu’s sneaking grin and swatting tail told you so much more about their night of fun than you would have liked to know. 

Thankfully the storm did not continue much longer. Rain continued to wash over the forest but thunder and lightning had taken its absence. It allowed you to fall head first into a deep sleep, although your dreams were riddled with passing memories. Glimpses of Lo’ak’s hands coming up to wipe away tears. The stretch of blue skin along his shoulder and throat that you snuggled into until his essence was clear. Even the deep rumble of soothing praise as you let yourself fall back into his chest. 

Hours later a shuffling of footsteps by the door pulled you out of sleep. Feeling much stronger now, you slowly padded to the entrance with pinched brows. Lo’ak was already gone but another cooked meal was left in his place with a homemade umbrella perched atop to keep it dry. 

You thought nothing of it, although begrudgingly grateful for something to fill your stomach. But then you saw something else neatly fold into a leaf, a note tucked at its side. 

To keep the darkness away

-Lo’ak

And left behind were those two objects that had played such sweet music in his kelku. His secret weapon, now yours to wield.

Any and all feeback is appreciated! It makes a huge difference for motivation and updating<3

Part of taglist: @hauntingvenus @yawnetu @baybaybear1 @affinity101022 @tsireyasluvr

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> you do too much

word count: 3.7k TW: body image, overworking, swearing, angst italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

Cyana never meant for it to get this far.

It had started off pretty mild, she'd wake up earlier than usual, take a morning run to the company and get a head start on practice. She'd stay later than the others too, insisting they go home without her and that she'd join them a bit later. Just one more time, she'd say, as she cued up the song once again. Just one more time, she'd say again after that, and by then it would already be close to midnight.

She stared at herself in the mirror, shaking with frustration and fatigue. Her chest heaved harshly as she tried desperately to calm her breath.

Hoshi shot her a worried glance. "Nana, take a break."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Practice is done anyways. The car's ready, pack up." He grabbed her hand to drag her towards their things.

Cyana shook her hand out from his grasp, shooting him a tired smile. "You can go first, Soonie. I'll stay a little bit longer. I want to try Getting Closer again."

Hoshi frowned at her words. "We've already stayed late, nana-yah. Everyone's already left. And you've been staying late for the past two weeks. Let's take a break, okay?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "It's fine, really."

He looked at her apprehensively, not quite believing her. Sighing, he reluctantly agreed, knowing there was no stopping her. "Please be home by at least two am."

She nodded absentmindedly, already turning back around to cue up the track. She made sure Hoshi really had left before continuing, concentrating on perfecting her angles and facial expression. She had failed the company test - when the higher-ups came and decided she wasn't good enough - her ego burned from the hit and she vowed to work even harder. The members had told her she was already amazing, but she couldn't believe them if the company officials didn't think so.

She hadn't told any of the boys she hadn't been returning home. Most of her essentials were stored safely in one of the drawers in their practice room - saving her both the time and energy it took to return home. This way she could wash up and change before immediately getting back to practice.

"Oh, Jeonghan oppa." She answered when he called her phone.

"Nana, where are you?" His voice sounded muffled and tired. "Hoshi texted and said you're still at the company."

She checked the time. 3:26 AM. "Oh. I decided to crash at Mingyu's place." She lied, wincing. She hated lying to him whenever he called to check in. It was pure luck that no one really ever confirmed with Mingyu that she had actually been staying over. "I'm about to go to sleep. You should too, oppa."

She heard Jeonghan sigh in relief. "Okay, good. Goodnight, Nana." He hung up, probably way too tired.

Placing her phone back down on the floor, she glanced once again at the time. It was late. Her body was sore and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. Dragging her feet towards the connected washroom, she was glad they'd installed showers. Cleaning herself up and changing, she returned back to the practice room and crashed on the couch. Just a couple hours, she thought to herself.

"Cyana."

She opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness and letting out a groan. "What time is it?"

A very confused Dino stared back at her. "7 AM." He helped her to sit up, frowning when he saw her wince. "Why are you sleeping here?"

Her eyes widened when she remembered where she was. She inwardly kicked herself for oversleeping. Usually she was able to wake up, get ready and change before everyone else began arriving. They always just assumed she had been the first to arrive. "I-" Feeling rather caught, Cyana could only stare up at Dino wordlessly.

He seemed to catch on rather quickly. "Cyana." He looked at her, disappointment written plainly across his face. "Have you been living here?"

"No!" She protested, knowing he'd 100% tell Jeonghan if she admitted to it and Jeonghan would 100% kill her. "I was just practicing last night and fell asleep, that's all."

He gave her a weird look. "Alright, just-" He sighed. "You really don't need to be pushing yourself so hard. You're already ready."

Cyana gave him a hard stare. Perhaps it was the pain or the lack of sleep, but her nerves were wearing thin. She pushed herself off the couch, walking to the washroom. Splashing water on her face, she attempted to wake herself up.

"Please don't tell the others." She begged Dino once she returned. "Please please please." He looked unconvinced. "Please." She said again. "They'll kill me and you know it."

He sighed. "Fine." He pointed a finger at her, his poor attempt at being stern. "But you've got to promise me it's the last time."

"Got it." She promised, although she knew she'd probably end up breaking it. "Thanks, Chan."

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms gently around her waist, frowning when he felt how skinny she had gotten. He was about to comment on it when the practice doors opened and a hoard of members rushed in, all still slightly half-asleep.

"Aigoo~" Seungkwan cooed at the position they'd caught them in. "Our maknaes are so cute."

Dino flushed, trying to pull away but pausing when he realized Cyana was leaning on him, her eyes closed.

"Is she okay?" Jun mumbled, sipping on his ice coffee and glancing at the girl.

"Hm?" Cyana opened an eye, jumping a bit at the sudden appearance of so many people. "Oh! You're all here."

"Yup." Vernon walked over, ruffling her hair. "You ready?"

She sighed, reluctantly detaching herself from Dino, shivering at the loss of his body heat. "I guess."

Jeonghan had thought something was off from the way Cyana sounded over the phone. She sounded sick and incredibly out of it, her words slurring slightly as she spoke to him. He would've pressed the girl for more answers, but Hoshi's text had woken him up mid-sleep and he was aching to the state of passing out.

Even as they started practice, Jeonghan's mind drifted from the choreo over to Cyana. His mental list of things wrong with her had been gradually growing over the week and he was getting concerned.

Jeonghan's mental list with things that are wrong about Cyana:

She's been saying over at Mingyu's a suspicious amount. Sure, he could understand, the Minwon residence was easily the quietest out of the bunch, and Mingyu was Cyana's closest friend. He figured Wonwoo was in his room most times anyways.

The amount of canceled plans the boys have been complaining about to him was increasing. It felt like every couple days, at least one member would approach him requesting a therapy session, where they just complained about how Cyana was ditching them for their usual hangouts.

He rarely ever saw the girl anywhere but the company. Under any other circumstance it would've been normal, but Cyana had expressed before she hated the feeling of captivity the company gave her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her eat something.

He could've continued listing reasons in his head, had it not been for the loud thud and a piercing screech that followed it. He froze mid dance move and spun towards the noise.

Cyana was on the floor, Woozi a mere step away from her as he crouched down to examine her. DK was apologizing for the loud scream, although he continued to panic loudly.

"I think she fainted." Woozi concluded, voice calm. His furrowed eyebrows were the only sign he was worried.

"Fainted?" DK gasped out loud.

Mingyu reached down and scooped the girl into his arms, depositing her on the couch. "Yeah, she's out."

"Is she injured?" Seungcheol asked, hovering over her as Mingyu checked. He sighed with relief when Mingyu shook his head. "It was a loud thud."

Jeonghan let out a groan of both realization and disappointment.

"What." Seungcheol whipped his head around at the sound of Jeonghan's groan. "Do you know something?" He pointed at Cyana, who was still laying limply on the couch, head supported by Mingyu's large hand. "Why is she like this?"

Jeonghan raised his hands in defence. "I only suspected. I mean- I thought it was weird she was sleeping over at Mingyu and Wonwoo's so often recently but-"

"What?" Wonwoo cut him off. "She hasn't been over since-" He flushed at the memory. "Since she hurt her ankle."

And all at once, the pieces seemed to fall into place in Jeonghan's mind.

"She's been living here, hasn't she." Dino beat him to the punch, stating what he had just realized. "I found her here asleep when I came in this morning."

They all turned to Seungcheol, who seemed to be at a loss for words, staring at Cyana.

Cyana awoke just in time to see Seungcheol leave, the practice room door swinging shut behind him. She struggled to get up, as strong hands grabbed her and situated her to lean back. A bottle of water was shoved wordlessly into her hands by Vernon, already opened.

"You scared us." Mingyu muttered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She was vaguely aware of the other boys standing around her. Her ears still rang but she could faintly hear Woozi talking to Jun.

"I swear I tried to catch her. I didn't let her drop on purpose." He was defending himself to a wary Jun. "I'm not that mean."

She would have smiled at how defensive he sounded had it not been for the glowering face of Jeonghan, who was staring holes into her skull.

"Everyone out, please." Jeonghan signalled the others to give them the room. He sat down next to Cyana, letting out a loud sigh once everyone had left.

She knew she was in for it now.

"You wanna tell me what's been going on?" He said quietly, rubbing the seam of her sleeve between his thumb and index finger. "No lies this time."

She felt a lump form in her throat. "Jeonghan-"

"I'm not mad, Cyana." He looked at her sadly. "I just want to know why you haven't been taking care of yourself."

On any other occasion, she would have argued that he was mad. He hadn't used 'Nana' when saying her name.

"You haven't been staying at Mingyu's, I know that for a fact. And you've been canceling plans with the members. You also haven't been eating well. Jun says you rarely take the breakfast he sets aside for you." He continued, frowning when he saw her eyes well up with tears.

"I'm sorry." It was all she could muster.

"I don't care that you lied, Cyana." Jeonghan wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Just tell me why. Are we doing something wrong?"

She shook her head frantically. "No." God no.

"Then why?"

She finally looked up from her lap to see him, feeling an ache in her chest when she saw how desperate his expression was.

"The company officials-" She paused, and Jeonghan nodded for her to go on. "they said I wasn't good enough. Not quite good enough to debut with seventeen. They said they had a lot bet on me but I was disappointing them."

She got worried when he stayed silent. "Oppa?" She whispered, reaching out tentatively to shake him.

He laced his hand in hers before she could reach him. "I'm sorry they said all that." He turned to look at her, a serious expression taking over his face. "But you know they're wrong, and even if you think they're right, you shouldn't have risked your own health like that."

Cyana nodded. "I know. I just-" She tried to find the words to explain. "I just wanted to debut so badly. I wanted to look good onstage next to all of you." It was a lame explanation but it was the best she could give.

"I know." Jeonghan nodded. "And you will." He pointed at the large mirrors on the wall in front of where they sat. "I watch you dance with us everyday through those mirrors. And you look beautiful. Full of talent and raw power."

She let out a shaky breath.

"Is that why you haven't been eating your meals?" He asked, looking back at her. "Did they say something about that too?"

She nodded. It was perhaps the comment that had hurt her the most. "They said I looked too heavy. That I was supposed to be a girl member. Not a boy."

Jeonghan let out a huff. "Who the fuck-" He muttered, almost to himself. "Give me the names of the people, I'll talk to them."

Cyana smiled despite the heavy setting. "They're higher-ups, Hannie. You can't do anything."

"Psh." Jeonghan waved away her concern. "Still. I'll write their names down and get rid of them once we're big enough."

She supposed she admired his optimism. "Okay." She relented. "I'll find their names and text them to you."

Jeonghan leaned his head on the crook of her shoulder, slouching a bit to reach it. "You know we love you, right?"

She didn't say anything.

"You don't have to believe it now." He said softly. "I know you're a bit weird about stuff like that." He squeezed her hand firmly. "Just need you to hear it."

She nodded. "Okay."

They sat in silence for awhile, and Cyana's ears stopped ringing. "Where did Seungcheol-oppa go?" She whispered, curious but not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment.

Jeonghan cracked an eye open from his spot on her shoulder. "He's dealing with it his own way."

"Dealing with what?"

He sat up straight to look at her. "You fainting. He's our leader, he's going to feel the responsibility."

She frowned. "It's not his fault though."

Jeonghan shrugged. "It's just how he works. He's going to blame himself for not noticing it all sooner either way. Even if it's not his fault."

She stood up, swaying a bit before steadying herself. "I'm gonna go look for him, is that okay?"

She could swear Jeonghan was smirking a little. "I think he'd like that."

She found him in one of the empty studios. Seungcheol was sitting on one of the chairs when she walked in, head in his hands. He got up quickly once he heard the sound of her footsteps.

"Cyana." He breathed out, thankful she was okay. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She whispered, sitting down and motioning gently for him to join her. She watched him hesitate before he sat down next to her.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard." Seungcheol scolded her.

"I know."

"And you should've told someone you weren't going back to the dorm. You should've let me know how much you were struggling."

"I know."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Tell me what happened. Everything leading up to today. I assume this has been going on for awhile."

She could tell from his face he meant business, so she told him without a fight. She recited everything - the skipped meals, the ditching hangouts, the sleeping in the practice room, the toothbrush and skincare hidden in the drawers - all of it. She saw his face twist in pain when she got to the part about the company officials.

"You should've told me." He whispered, once she was all done.

"I thought perhaps you didn't want to know." She admitted.

He looked astonished she would even say such a thing. His mouth opened and closed again as he reconsidered his choice of words. "I'm your leader, Cyana. I care about this team."

"And I'm doing my job." She said, not getting what he meant. Wasn't SEVENTEEN doing quite well? And the team would do even better if she was perfect for the comeback.

Seungcheol didn't know if he wanted to strangle her and cry. "Let me reiterate." He looked at her. "I care about you, Cyana. Not the comeback."

She blinked. "Oh."

He felt more like crying, Seungcheol decided. She looked so fragile and confused at the mere thought of him even caring about her. A burning sense of rage fuelled through him. Who on earth had taught her to be so skeptical of care and love?

Cyana panicked when she saw the tears in Seungcheol's eyes. "Please don't cry." She whispered frantically, not knowing what would happen to her if she saw the dependable and strong Seungcheol break down.

"Our maknae~" Seungcheol whispered back, reaching over to brush his hand against her cheek. "Maybe I didn't do well enough, to show you you belong here. I tried being a strong leader, guiding everyone through the comeback, letting you adjust to how busy life in SEVENTEEN can be. But maybe you needed more of a gentle touch? Something more personal?" At this point he seemed to be talking to himself. "I know I didn't really take the time to connect with you on a deeper level like the others did. I was so focused on guiding you through work. I must've done something wrong, if you felt like you needed to hide this much from me. Push yourself this far."

Cyana's lips trembled as she desperately held back tears. "It's not your fault."

"It is." Seungcheol corrected her quietly. "I always strived to be a leader you could tell anything to." He paused, looking at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry you felt the need to break yourself so much to make this comeback happen. I'm sorry the company said such harsh things. I should've noticed."

Cyana felt the sudden strong urge to give him a hug. It confused her. She only ever felt comfortable enough to initiate any sort of contact with Jeonghan, Dino, Joshua or Mingyu. Yet, when Seungcheol finished his speech and looked at Cyana with those sad, wide eyes, she decided perhaps she could make an exception. She leaned slightly in his side, stiffing slightly when his arms wrapped around her frame.

"It's not your fault." She managed to say again, telling herself to relax into his hold.

"I know it's not logical."

Cyana let out a breathy laugh. "I am sorry I lied to Jeonghan."

"I know." Seungcheol pulled her a little closer. "Please don't ever do this again. All of it. You're much more important than a silly comeback."

She nodded. "I won't."

"I'll talk with the company about the whole test thing. They shouldn't have done that, or said those things. And you need to start eating." Now that he was hugging her, he could feel just how malnourished she was. He felt as if he could accidentally snap her just by moving the wrong way. "I'll talk to the stylists too. Everyone needs a good reminder that you're part of SEVENTEEN forever."

Cyana's face flushed. "I'm sorry." She mumbled again, feeling bad for making him so worried. "I didn't know it'd hurt you so much."

Seungcheol let her go, giving her a sad look. "I hated seeing you like that. You were so pale and fragile."

She didn't know what to do with the amount of loving words she was receiving today. She looked away awkwardly. "I'll be more careful now, I promise."

She could hear the smile that overtook his face despite not looking at him. "Good." He said. "Start getting it into your head that you're important."

Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol monitored her as she cleared out her drawer and any other sign that she had been living in the practice room. She promised them both that she'd return everything back home and that she'd keep them there.

"You scared me." DK whined. "I thought you'd died."

Cyana was grateful at how lighthearted the atmosphere was once her and Seungcheol had returned to the practice room. Everyone was still obviously worried, but they seemed to have all decided not to sour the mood further. Everyone had noticed the watery eyes from both Cyana and Seungcheol as they returned but pretended not to.

"I'm sorry~" Cyana smiled at DK's dramatics.

"Ah, hyung- it was your scream that scared me the most." Dino butted in, cackling at the memory. "I was mid move and I heard a blood-curdling cry. I thought I was in a horror movie."

The others laughed along, each of them relating to the younger boy.

Joshua sidled up to Cyana amidst the chaos Dino's remark had brought, holding her waist to support her as his eyes roamed her face for any sign of lingering fatigue. "You sure you're alright?"

Cyana nodded, grateful for the warmth radiating from his body. "Yeah. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No more apologizing. Just join Hoshi, Seungkwan, Myungho and I for dinner later today, okay? We're going to check out this new restaurant Hoshi found online."

"Okay."

From the other side of the room, Seungcheol clapped for everyone's attention. "Okay! We're resuming practice!" He looked at Cyana. "You're going home." He pointed at her. "Don't argue with me."

"What?" She protested. She was feeling fine. "I'm fine!" She insisted.

Her remark was met by a roomful of protests, even Woozi and Wonwoo joined in as everyone told her to get the fuck home.

"No really!" She protested again once the noise died down. "Please, Coups-oppa. I won't push myself too hard, promise."

She watched him think it over. She could practically see it as he fought himself. "Fine." He finally relented. "But-"

She paused her celebration.

"You're sitting out for practice. You can watch and take notes, but no dancing."

She sighed, but she knew it was the best she was getting out of him. "Fine."

As she sat on the couch, notebook in hand as she took notes on the performance, she couldn't help but glance towards their leader. He was working hard, giving 120% like he did with everything he put his mind to. She felt a glow of gratitude towards him. For a second, she allowed herself to believe that perhaps she did belong here, with these people. And perhaps him and Jeonghan were right - those people had just been mean and she was already good the way she was.

author's note: wahhhh thank you so much for reading! this one was quite a ride - writing about scoups as the leader always sends tears to my eyes, we truly don't deserve him. next fic is cyana's debut fic (finally!)

[majinbangus]

What happens when soap's on again and off again gf finds out he got someone else pregnant? And do you think she would try to keep him from his children and reader?

Also I hope Soap tells his mom and she chews him out for not being better to reader 😭 (I also want Soap's mom know already that she's going to be a grandma to twins and just kept it from Johnny for reader's health too.)

i struggled with this one, but it turned out hopeful in the end i hope its good

"What're you doing here?"

You don't know what hurts more: the way he said that as if he doesn't want you there (which he probably doesn't; you don't want to be there, either, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less), or the apprehensive look he doesn't bother masking. He's never really been one to hide his emotions, but would it have killed him to pretend to be on amicable terms with you for at least a couple of hours? Dumbass.

"I'm doing great, MacTavish, thanks for asking." You go for an overly friendly inflection, but anyone listening in would be able to hear the biting undertone in your sarcasm. "How have you been? Wonderful, you say? That's absolutely grand. Glad to hear it. Truly, thank you for taking the time to welcome me into your home."

You attempt a smile, but from the way Soap's expression pinches at it, it more than likely comes off as a poorly veiled scowl. You can't bring yourself to care. You're more focused on keeping yourself from breaking down, rubbing your hand almost obsessively over your belly, trying to calm yourself with the soothing motion. Soap looks down at it, face flashing with something. You're tempted to call it regret. Whether that's for knocking you up or for hurting you just now or something else entirely, you have no clue. He clenches his fists.

"... Does my family know that you're... that I'm..?"

That's what he's concerned about? Fucking prick. You're half-tempted to announce it to his whole family now. You didn't even want to be at his family gathering in the first place, but Mrs. MacTavish insisted, and you adore his mother (so much so that you’re afraid of her, too). It's been months since you last saw all the MacTavishes in person (for obvious reasons), and you know if you refused another invitation, the woman, though getting up there in age, would've dragged you to the party herself.

You rub your belly a tad faster, and his eyes dart down to the anxious movement again. "No, MacTavish, your family does not know you got me pregnant, so you can stop worrying. I... wasn't planning on telling them. Not now, at least. Or ever. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about stuff."

Perhaps it's the right call, perhaps not (it most likely isn’t), but the tension that visibly leaks out of his body offends you. 

"That's... probably for the best,” He exhales slowly.

“For you or for me?” You snark and he at least has the decency to wince.

“Hen… Princess–”

“Don’t call me that.” You curl your lips at him, teeth bared. A bitter kind of hurt grinds within your chest. He only called you that once before. For one night. It meant nothing to him, but everything to you. “Don’t pretend to care; you never called back to talk like we agreed. You’re such a prick, MacTavish.” 

“You never reached out, either,” He shoots back with a defensive frown that doesn’t feel justified. “And I have a reason for not calling back earlier…”

“Was that reason your girlfriend?”

His silence is telling.

You scoff with a derisive laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, it’s not like that,” He tries to protest, but you remain staunch in your acrimony. 

“Sure, it’s not.” You roll your eyes. “If it isn’t anything else, then what is it?”

“We,” Soap hesitates, breaking eye contact to focus on where your hand is on your stomach. He swallows, rephrasing himself. “After our phone call, I brought up what happened between us… Tried to explain what happened… Communicate with her since that was always a problem we had.”

“And?” You prompt after he falls silent for a few seconds, though you think you can predict where this story is going.

“She didn’t take it well.” He continues, “We’ve been fighting about it. Trying to come to a compromise, but she’d rather I cut contact with you.”

“You… don’t want that?” You smother any bit of hope you feel. You have to.

He doesn’t answer the question verbally, merely shaking his head. It doesn’t feel like a good enough response, but you can’t push him on it because then he’s talking again. “We’re not wanting the same things. Every conversation about it–” about you “–turns into an argument, and we’ve decided to…”

“Go on a break?” You fill in, but he shakes his head again, avoiding your gaze.

“I think it’s permanent this time.”

Oh. That’s… skeptical. After years of watching them go back and forth, it’s hard to believe the permanence of their breakup. You wouldn’t be surprised if that changed as soon as next week, or even tomorrow. But maybe it’s true this time. Maybe they won’t reconcile. If that’s the case, you are glad he’ll be out of such an exhausting relationship, but you won’t let yourself believe he’ll develop feelings for you. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer instead and Soap chuckles humorlessly.

“Do you mean that?”

“I don’t, but I know she was important to you.” Probably still is, but you won’t dwell on that. “I’m still upset with you, though.”

He chuckles again, a little more genuinely this time. It’s almost enough to make you smile. Almost. “Aye, I know. I deserve it.”

“You do.” And maybe a slap. A cathartic slap. Perhaps not for him, but it might do you good. “And you’re still a prick, but now that you’re not… occupied… Can we figure everything out?”

It’s small, but you can’t help that spark of hope that blooms in your chest at the soft smile he gives you.

“I’d like nothing more, Princess.”

(His mother heard the whole thing. She’ll discuss it later with the both of you. But for now, she’ll stay out of it and let you two work it out before getting involved. She just hopes her idiot son doesn’t mess things up with you. 

She much rather prefers you over his ex, after all.)

[dearhargrove]

Reassurance

summary You comfort Evan after he has to deal with his parents over the course of four days.

word count 730

tags fluff, just someone being there for my bb buck, short and sweet

a/n So basically I was watching the Buck Begins episode and died every minute where his parents neglected him and generally every second of that episode :( so expect some more Buck fics to come (Eddie too tho !!)

masterlist

You didn't know but you were probably the sole reason Buck wasn't completely breaking down every day he wakes up and has to deal with the two people that call themselves his parents.

After the first dinner he had felt bad, but he'd felt like he usually does with them. Alone, unwanted and never enough. That day he'd come home to you, quiet and dull.

You hadn't made him talk about it when he didn't start explaining himself, instead you simply wrapped your arms around him and held him close. That's when he'd felt loved. That night he waited until you had fallen asleep before letting himself cry.

What did he expect? For some reason he had hoped they'd changed. Or at least that they would be proud of him. After all, he'd saved a lot of people and does so every day. Instead he is reminded that they hadn't bothered to check on him when he almost died twice - first by being crushed and second because of the blood clots - and then laid in the hospital.

Those were the people supposed to love him no matter what and all he got was constant criticism.

That night you had woken up not long after him because of his missing warmth. With a worried expression you'd found him and once again, held him close. He had melted into your arms, tears starting to fall again as he clutched you close as if scared to lose you.

After reassurance you would gladly give any day you had gone back to bed, your hand on his cheek and caressing his birthmark.

Today you hadn't even known Buck would see them or be confronted by their doings. The last time you'd heard about them was when he explained that he had a brother. That he was only conceived to be a match for a bone marrow transplant.

That night had been harder than the one before. You're quite sure no matter how much you tried to show him that he wasn't just a failed way to save someone you don't think it got completely through to him. And you didn't blame him; you couldn't imagine living with something like that weighing you down.

You're in his kitchen trying one of Bobby's recipes when the door opens and Buck comes in. You could read him like a book; there wasn't a moment you weren't able to tell what he was feeling. But now? You genuinely didn't know.

He was frowning but there's a smile resting on his face and his eyes are red.

“Buck?”

He looks up, seeing you there in his sweater with a knife in your hand as you chop vegetables for a recipe from Bobby he loved, and he breaks. But instead of simply crying he chuckles, too.

“Buck, what's going on?” Your voice is worried and he just shakes his head as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his forehead to yours. You put the knife down and reach up to cup his face and your index finger soothes over his birthmark, something you'd made a habit over the year of being with him.

“I think they're finally accepting me for.. me.” He only says and you sigh but nod. He notices your slight apprehension and quickly adds on, “But I don't want them to. I don't need their acceptance. They don't decide how much I'm worth.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ in surprise but you laugh breathlessly and nod, “Exactly. You're saving lives on the daily, you don't need anyone to tell you how good you are. Not your parents, not your friends, not me.”

He nods along until the last part where he cocks his head and looks at you with his signature half smirk. “I do need you to tell me how good I am, actually.” That makes you smile as well and you sigh, “That's not what I meant and you know it.”

He just shrugs and unlike when he first came in you can see pure happiness and love on his face.

“God, I love you so much, Evan Buckley.”

He grins and surges forward to kiss you passionately, his hands gripping your hips as if you'd slip through his fingers any moment.

[cozy-writes-things]

genuinely zero pressure but I would LOVE to see you write something NSFW.

Also... If I may request more Edgar x Reader content... 🥺

Maybe some of him comforting the reader, and vice versa. I would love to see a genuine discussion about dark topics such as, well, how Edgar really did almost take himself out of the picture. Or maybe they talk about how mean Moles was to him, borderline an abusive partner (I can't be the only one who saw that, right?). It's lovely to be able to relate to a silly fictional computer like that.

Thanks sm if you take this >:3 💖💖

Aaa thanks so much for the request! I do have an idea for an NSFW fic, but for now, I can fulfill your angsty request >:) If anybody would like to see an NSFW please let me know!!

This may be a two-parter. Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

CW: Minor references to some serious topics like depression, suicide, and other angst.

Am I a toy to you?

"Edgar, why do you apologize so much?"

Edgar paused the show you both were watching on his little screen.

This was a question that surprised the computer, yet he couldn't say he didn't see this coming. Or at least, some version of this scenario playing out, as he'd rehearsed it a million times over, again and again, one simulation after another, about what he'd say, or do, or even think. He had refrained from talking about him, or her, as he felt, in the end, it was best to forget. Forget everything they did to him and made him feel.

He didn't want to burden you. He felt an inkling deep within his processors that if you found out, you would follow in their footsteps, and leave him behind. He knew, logically, that you were different. Sometimes, he swears his webcam picks up a faint, glowing halo above your head, but that may simply be his reverence for you. And yet, he also knows one thing: everything he has ever loved has abandoned him.

Sometimes, when you've drifted off to sleep, and the room stills into a tranquil quiet, he finds himself thinking. Thinking about things he knows he shouldn't. Would they still be with him had he never done what he did? Would they still love him, had he not destroyed his chances, and himself, in the process? His screen always flickers into a dim glow at these thoughts. They didn't care about him the way you did. How could he ever think of loving another when you're here, with him, soundly sleeping in the other room? Despite this, sometimes he regrets it, his own self destruction, and how much he hurt them both. Was that all he was made for? Destruction?

"I... I guess I never noticed."

He replied, meekly, a faint quiver in his speech, and he silently hoped you wouldn't notice. If you did, you didn't say anything, and just continued to bore deep into his soul, if he had one, with your eyes.

You sucked in a deep breath, contemplating your next words carefully.

"You're not... afraid of me, are you?"

His screen flashed for a moment, an incomprehensible image, before returning to display his digital face.

"What- wh- no, of course not, why would you ask that?"

He chuckled slightly at this question, yet you could hear the apprehension in his voice, as if he were desperately trying to cling onto any semblance of ease he had. His digital smile never faltered.

"I just... I'm worried about you, Edgar. Why..."

Your voice trailed off. You knew what you wanted to ask, but how could you? You didn't want to pry, and potentially ruin a rare friendship that you will most likely never experience again.

"Why what?"

You furrowed your brows. You could sense, from the very beginning almost, that he had been hurt in some way. From the way he was always trying to please you, do things for you, write you songs, do any chores within his capabilities; it was as if he were trying to prove himself to you.

"Why were you broken? When I bought you, from that old man, you were completely destroyed... Do you remember that?"

A thick, uneasy silence filled the air. You felt as though you could touch the fuzzy prickles of electricity buzzing about between the two of you.

"Old man?"

He whispered, either to himself, or you, it was uncertain.

"Yes. Do you not remember? I bought you at this yard sale from the old man a few blocks away-"

"What was his name?"

"Ed- what? I... I don't remember off the top of my head, but-"

"TELL ME HIS NAME NOW!"

You jumped, clamping your mouth shut, and felt the flustered burn spread across your entire face. Your throat dried and shriveled up as you sat staring at the screen before you; it flashed red, ever so quickly, before displaying his digital face again, flipped into a frown. Or, to you, it seemed more like a scowl. He had never raised his voice like that. Hell, you would have guessed he wasn't even able to scream so violently. He had been so soft spoken and gentle with you, never, could you have imagined an outburst like this.

And it seems your prior fears had been realized. You pushed him too hard, said something you shouldn't have said, and now he hates you. Whoever that old man was that sold you your new best friend must have something to do with... whatever inner turmoil he must be facing. A turmoil he has yet to share with you, if he ever will. It seems trying to understand him has only led to you pushing him farther away.

"Ma-maybe I can, ah," you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, trying desperately to moisten your teeth again to croak the words out, "check my bank statements. Maybe his name is there."

Don't cry. This isn't about you. Quit being so selfish!

Your fingers quickly swiped away at the warm, salty tear leaving an icy trail down your cheek. You have to pull yourself together. Unfortunately, this whole ordeal seemed to be bubbling up your own problems to the surface, reminding you of a past you thought you had forgotten. Maybe you can share each other's pain, if only he'd let you.

Before you could stand to get your phone, Edgar's screen flashed again, before his face changed into an emotion you hadn't seen before.

"Wa-wait, no, don't cry... I'm sorry, I-"

He needs to stop apologizing. You said it yourself, he does it way too often, and yet, he feels as though this is the one moment where it was warranted the most. He was so afraid of hurting you, or making you realize how useless he is, a stationary object, meant for nothing but a quick fix of pleasure.

He turns the lights off, shrouding you in a thick, blue hued abyss.

"Come here. Please?"

As you faced away from him, you could hear the pain in his voice. It pulled at your core, drawing yourself into him, and drowning in it. It was a familiar sound.

You turn around and stare at his, now downtrodden, pixelated expression. Your cheeks stained with trails of salt seemed to take his breath away. A breath he did not have, yet it cemented deep within his electric essence and stuck there, thrumming again and again.

How could he do this? Any chances he may have had with you now seemed to be floating away into the far beyond. Briefly, he wondered if you were even capable of loving something like him. Not a man, nor a machine, but something in between, incapable of ever showing just how much he felt for you. But he tried nearly every day. Had you noticed? Had you caught on to just how in love he was with you?

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Edgar."

Your voice trembled out, sending his inner components into an overdrive of heat and worry and energy.

"I'll tell you everything. Everything I can remember, at least."

You sighed, blinking the last of your tears away gently.

"It's okay if you don't want to-"

"No! No. I can... I want you to know. You deserve to know... what's going on. I need to tell you, because..."

"Because what?"

"I love you."