#i think people have been kinda cruel with this news

[s-4pphics]

drenched in white. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: after all your time alone, you’re finally not, but you’re definitely not prepared for your new life. [jackson AU]

WORD COUNT: 7.1K

WARNINGS: readers mute and taller than ellie, death, murder, blood, mentions of alcohol/starvation/hypothermia, a bit of gore, near death experience, trauma and sadness, brief girls kissing, some fluff because kids :)

A/N: tbh idk where this came from but i missed ellie so yeah prob wont write anymore of this but yeah 

—

Apocalypses are fucking stupid.

Humans are born into nothing, forced to run all their lives from blood-lustful beasts that can rewire their entire brain chemistry into one that sadistically matches theirs, and if that doesn’t happen, you die anyway with nothing but the clothes on your back and a horse with no rider. That’s fucking stupid. 

You weren’t alive when the world was thriving… presumably so — whatever the old world considered thriving. Those history books you stole in adolescence would argue otherwise, but there were some happy moments. On occasion. Maybe? Whatever. But you weren’t there, and you can only imagine how you would’ve turned out if you were. Would you be married? Have children? Own property? Businesses? Whatever other luxury the old world prioritized although it all seemed exhausting? 

Would you be an addict, a trainwreck, someone who had it all then nothing in the blink of an eye? That seems to be reoccurring in some of those biographies you found about people called celebrities. They have everything then die too young or way too old and eventually fade into a nobody, just like everyone else. History is so heartbreaking. Such cruel fate. 

You’ve been by yourself for a long time. Some would still consider you young, but you feel like a zombie that’s risen from the grave most of the time. You steal and live selfishly and waste your life reading because you can. You’re lucky enough to no longer have anyone you care about. Your recklessness doesn’t hinder anyone but yourself, so you read read read. Sometimes, you hunt for books more than you do for food. You’re not a fighter — it surprises you every day how you haven’t died yet — but a decent amount of people would consider you book smart. This one group you crossed paths with some years ago called you a genius because you’re self-taught in practically everything: reading and writing, starting fires, planting food, sewing, mapping plains. Whenever you’re harmed, you can heal yourself kinda. When you were 14, you stepped on a rusty nail and, instead of living the short remainder of your life as an amputee, you heroed through a disgusting infection that left you ill for 2 weeks, then sewed your own wound up. You couldn’t walk for days. 

That same group also called you mute. 

You don’t think you are, but rightfully so. There’s no one for you to talk to, so you don’t talk, simple as that. Everyone you knew died when you were a kid, maybe 7 or 8 — spending the majority of your life alone and in hiding doesn’t make for much conversation. Plus, the fucks that rule the Earth are nosy as hell. Being as quiet as possible is needed. 

Reading passes time. It’s the last phase of winter, but it’ll be Spring in no time, thanks to the bag you drag through snow: stuffed with one jacket, a rusted chef’s knife, and 46 different novels and counting. 

Your body’s gonna shut down on you. It’s so fucking cold and you’re barely layered but you haven’t finished The Cable Companies, One Hundred and One Best Songs. The pages filled with piano notes are almost enough to make you hear the songs… Or maybe the lack of nutrients is making you hallucinate. Guess you’ll find out when you finish. Just 22 more pages. 

No food, no water, no warmth, no antique piano. You’re fucked any direction you turn. 

There was a small cave somewhere around here. You used to sleep in it during the summer; the dark was always cooler. Maybe it’s buried underneath heaps of snow. You hope not. Fuck. 

The closer you get to the cavern, the grosser the air becomes. Death carries a certain mugginess. Why’d they have to die next to your one retreat? 

You drag and drag on like your legs weigh a ton all the way to the cave and… Great. 

Death and no entrance. Red coats the snow and it reminds you of the twisted tale of Snow White. The decaying carcass of a deer should alarm you, but you only sigh in defeat. Where the fuck are you supposed to read without disturbance? 

You only make it two more steps before you collapse face-first into ice. Your lungs wheeze in pain and you’re trying to get yourself up but you can’t. When you blink, you see colors. 

Is this death? Or karma? A squirrel runs past you just to rub it in. Furry little bitch. 

It’s only when your brain whispers for you to give up that you fully submerge into the snow. Small cries of pain are the only proof of your survival. 

Fuck everything. Fuck people, fuck people that turned into monsters, fuck all the stupid trivial shit that the other world loved so deeply. Call it jealousy. Everything’s for nothing nowadays. 

Your final thought before the world goes dark. 

—

Why is there annoying beeping in heaven? 

Maybe you’re naive in believing you made it there. Maybe this is hell. You thought it’d be more fucked up than this. The beeping is irritating though. Besides that, it’s peaceful. 

Is this an in between world? Half dead, half not. You remember being into paranormal shit in horror stories years ago. Ghostly entities and whatnot. Maybe you’re… that. There’s whispers in the background. Bleary and distant but you kinda hear them. Maybe someone’s conjuring you up. Why you of all people? 

“— ne… de…” 

Need? Your ears are failing. Why is everything suddenly hurting? Pain in your eyes and behind them and all the way down. It’s hurting everywhere. 

“—Jus… there… Not sure.” 

It’s hurts so bad everywhere make it stop make it stop —

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

White overtakes your vision. Too bright and too cold and you can’t stop heaving but you want to because it fucking hurts everywhere

“Hey! Hey! Calm—” 

The voices are clearer and so is the beeping and so is the pain. Gentle hands land on your shoulders and you thrash when faces, needles and medical equipment clear in your vision. There’s something sharp in your arm. Where the fuck when the fuck how —

“You needa calm down—“

You try to tell this blonde freak to go fuck herself but your voice is shot, coughing and spit flying everywhere. 

“The fuck is her probl—“

“Be quiet—“

A crackling scream ripples through you, tears streaming down your face because suddenly more hands are holding you down. Malicious intent or not it makes you fucking sick. The beeping only gets faster. 

“MY — my name’s Maria! Listen to me! My name’s Maria! Some of mine went out on patrol a few days ago and found you almost buried. We’re tryna help you!” 

You continue to sob but they’re a little less guttural. Her voice is nice. Very motherly. 

“You were halfway dead out there,” She huffs like it’s funny and you wanna throw a chair, “What’s your name? Gotta name?” 

All the hands are off you except Maria’s. Maybe because you’re not trying to kick her face in anymore. You’re trying to tell her you don’t fucking remember but nothing comes out. Just more coughing. 

“Take your time. Deep breaths, shhh, you’re alright.” 

You finally meet her eyes and they’re pretty. Pale blue like spring water. The beeping starts to slow bit by bit. It took you all this time to realize that’s your heart. You glimpse at the monitor and… those squiggly lines mean fuck all to you. Why couldn’t you just die?

Your eyes travel, albeit less frantically, but on high guard. Skeptical as ever. You couldn’t even defend yourself against these incredibly polite barbarians if you wanted to. Your bag’s gone. Everything that’s yours is gone. The beeps increase all over again. Maria must sense your anxiety. 

“Hey, hey, we have everything. We just had to make sure you were… alright to come in. No bites or nothing, ‘k?” 

… Fair. Whatever. Gimme my shit. 

“We were snoopin’,” Your vision follows the new voice. A man this time, average sized and bearded, “Ya like t’read?” 

You squint and nod. 

“‘S a good habit.” 

… Awkward. It’s quiet now. 

“How ya feelin’? Any pain?” Maria pries gently. You shrug. Not as bad as it was 2 minutes ago. You eye everyone in here, study as much of them as you can. Face, hands, guns latched around their thighs and shoved in their belts. They’re all threats while simultaneously being unthreatening. For now, at least. 

“Y’all can get on. I got it from here.” She waves the remaining people off and they leave with tense smiles. The door clicks behind them. The beeping is the slowest it’s been since you woke up. 

“Bout that name…” 

You only stare at her. 

“Don't remember?”

You scratch at your neck, and she sighs, “Not much of a talker, huh?” 

You mime writing in a notepad, and Maria quirks with interest. She searches the room before digging through a drawer on the farthest dresser. She returns with a small book and marker. 

The aches in your fingers don’t halt your scribbling. You turn the book towards her. 

ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME? 

The corner of her mouth lifts, “No point in fixin’ ya up if that was the case. No offense, but you’re not threatening.” 

You snort. 

“You been by yourself for a while?” 

You ponder before scribbling. 

I WATCHED MY FAMILY DIE. PRETTY FUCKED UP CHILDHOOD. I’M ALWAYS ALONE. 

She stares sympathetically and shakes her head in apologies. All you can do is shrug. You’d be more surprised if a kid grew up in this world without experiencing mass destruction. Trauma practically raised you. 

“There’s not many people that can do what you do, y’know? You gotta gift.” She jerks her chin at the booklet. “Somebody taught’cha?” 

You point to yourself. 

“Don’t let that head get big now.” She smirks and you smile sorta. 

“We got kids…” Maria blindly points towards the door. 

“A lot of ‘em, and we’ve been tryna get them to read more but… I don’t know, some of these old bastards think it’s pointless and that discourages them.”

Oh. 

“I don’t know what you got goin’ on out there, but… If you choose to go back out there, I won’t fault you, but if you don’t…” 

Uh oh. 

“How do you feel ‘bout teaching toddlers their ABCs?” 

… Shit. 

You scowl. 

“I know it’s not the best… position to be in but, I don’t know, I just want something they can look forward to everyday. A new story, some new conversations… anything to get their little brains crankin’.” 

“They’re so sweet and I feel like they’d gain so much from someone who cares just as much as they do.” 

You don’t write anything. Her pupils shroud with dejection. 

“Think about it?” She’s quick to turn away, but not without one last look over her shoulder, “Rest up.” 

And the door closes. Your eyes shut in no time, and a comforting darkness overtakes you once more. 

—

Leave with nothing but your annotated novels or stay where you’re well fed and warm but surrounded by snotty nosed orphans. Something to think about. 

You’ve been in Jackson — you learned the town is called — for less than 48 hours, most of which you were recovering from a severe case of hypothermia. You don’t remember the last time you had a meal that hot. Maria had to reassure you that no one would take your plate. 

You still haven’t given Maria a clear answer for her teaching proposal, but she doesn’t bug you about it. She is very eager to show you the daycare though. She’s subtle. You respect it. 

Your books are still couped up in the infirmary because, frankly, you hate dragging them everywhere. Maria offered for you to keep them in the library, but you refused. They’re not up for grabs; You nearly died for every single one of those pages and you’ll be damned if someone touches them under your nose. They’re yours. It’s all you got right now. 

You might even leave with a horse if Maria still likes you after telling her no to teaching. Tomorrow morning will wrap up your little dead-then-alive journey. Couldn’t hurt to ask. 

It’s your first time back outside since your near-death experience. The sun is barely peeking from behind the clouds and your face is so cold it’s almost retraumatizing, but it’s pretty out. Maria was nice enough to give you new boots that weren’t hanging on by their laces. 

Jackson bustles like a real, non-apocalyptic town. Lights shine and pick-ups honk and people are fucking smiling? Maybe this is heaven. 

Those walls… They’re still high and barricaded. Scouts babysit those gates like clockwork. To think you were on the other side of their scrutiny just a day ago. The twinkling sound of joy confuses the fuck outta you. Laughter. Not only that, but from children. Not starving, nearly dead children, but well-fed, genuinely happy kids. Why does your stomach twist with jealousy? They deserve peace, of course, but so did you. So does every child. 

Your eyes search for them — curiosity overtakes your limbs and you step with determination, guided by your ears. The twinkles grow in volume — there must be at least 10 kids playing in the snow. 

“HEY! GET OFF, YOU FU—“

“Language!”

“HOW’S THIS FOR LANGU—“

“BOYS! ENOUGH! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHI—!”

“LANGUAGE, MS. DINA!”

“I CAN SAY THAT! YOU CAN’T!”

What a sight this is. Happy kids. Your heart swells. Slightly; you’re glad Maria isn’t here to catch your fondness. 

“Alright, vermins, get up, I’ll miss the party.” 

“5 more minutes, pleeease!”

“I’m not freezing for you. C’mon!” 

The kids seem to love Ms. Dina. They dangle off every single one of her limbs, begging her to throw at least 10 more snowballs. Maybe your ice-cold heart isn’t as frosty as you thought. The sight is disgustingly endearing. 

“Ms. Dina… Who’s that?” 

And the laughter stops. A bunch of eyes attached to tiny bodies all gawk at you, some with intrigue, others with fear as they cower behind their teacher… babysitter? Whoever she is. 

“Not sure, dove. You all have 10 minutes!” 

“20!”

“10 or freeze to death! Go!”

Excited screams filter through the wind when said vermins squabble in snow like puppies, pushing and shoving and chucking icy bullets at each other. You never had to worry about being the oddball out, but you sure do look like one now. 

“Hey. Maria told us about a scrounger.” 

Creases bunch in your forehead, and Dina raises her hands defensively, “Joking, relax. So, are you staying, or…?” You shrug unknowing, and Dina chuckles. 

“I think you should. If I had the option to stay here 24/7, I’d take it in a heartbeat. We could use an extra hand with the kids. Maria said you read?” 

You nod. “Cool. We have a decent amount of readers — more than most, but, uh… yeah. Our kids need help.”

Your lip twitches alongside your pondering. So many questions rest on your tongue but none can leave. Dina’s eyes are consoling. It shouldn’t spark irritation in your stomach but it does. 

“Do you sign?” 

You stare in confusion, and she elaborates, “Like… Sign language?” Her hands make a bunch of gestures you don’t understand and your head shakes. 

“Darn. No worries. If you’re ever interested in learning, just holler. We got some people that are hard of hearing so we all kinda use it occasionally. But, umm… yeah. I’m Dina.” She extends a polite hand but you don’t accept it. Your head jerks in greeting, and she smiles. 

She drops it back to her side, “What should we call you?” 

You don’t know. You don’t care. You’re not staying long. Your shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly. 

“Should I have them pick?” 

Before you can oppose, she’s hollering for— 

“DYLAN! COME HERE!”

A rascal with a beanie and bright red boots sprints towards the two of you. His cheeks are so plush and scarred. Dina fixes the color of his sweater, “Dylan, what’s a good name for a teacher?” 

“Ms. Dina, obviously—“

“Another name.” 

Chipmunk Boy ponders for a moment before snickering, “Mr. Octopus.” 

“Fucking hell—“

“Language, Ms. Dina! SWEAR JAR—“

“We don’t even do that here!”

“Okay, okay… just call them Dove or something! Don’t think we don’t notice you calling us that when you forget our names!” 

Dina’s eyes widen, “That’s not true! What the… freak!” 

Red-Boot-Ranger smirks when Dina catches herself before getting pelted at the back of the head with a snowball. 

“Little BITCH—“

Dina shouts, “HEY!—“

“MS. DINA, FRANKIE CURSED!”

“NO, I DIDN’T—“

Arguments break out between all 13 children, loud and boisterous and your head pounds. Too much for one day. 

“STOP— sorry, I gotta handle this, but it was nice meeting you! BOYS—“ 

Dina throws you one last wave before rushing off to scold Dylan and his… bully? You think that’s what they were called in some books you read. A kid messing with another kid or something like that. 

You take this last bit of alone time before you depart to explore. 

Despite your eagerness to disappear, Jackson is nice. You don’t know what Christmas entails, but it’s often described as festive: a day for togetherness and family and whatever the hell else ‘can’t be bought’ yet everyone buys. Jackson is visually festive. Celebratory scenery. What exactly they’re celebrating goes over your head. There’s nothing to be joyous over. Death traps Jackson at every corner. 

Loud music pulls you from your thoughtful stroll. One look through a very large window is enough to scare you shitless. A seemingly cozy space is filled to the brim with strangers who dance and drink and laugh their heads off; Their familiarity with one another makes you physically ill. The scene is like a bullet to the chest. Reminds you of what was once home.

Your nausea doesn’t overtake your curiosity, though. 

The moment you step into the bar, warmth suffocates you, heat sizzling through your legs as your face defrosts. The entire bar screams out lyrics to a song you never heard while cups get refilled with burning liquid and it’s overwhelming. There’s so much movement. Too much. 

Blonde hair swings out the corner of your eye and you’re instantly relieved. You hustle to where Maria chats with partygoers from across the bar. She’s shocked to see you. 

“Hey! You’re up’n moving!” 

You wave awkwardly. Gawk back at the people that gawk at you before Maria hands you a glass. 

“You drink?” You deny with a raised hand, and she smiles. 

“Probably not the best time to ask,” She hollers over the jukebox, “I’m hoping this is your initiation?” Her eyes are hopeful, and your throat dries a bit. Why are you hesitating to answer?

Maria’s nice enough… probably the nicest stranger you’ve ever met in your entire life, and it seems more comfortable in Jackson than anywhere you’ve been. It doesn’t seem so bad… but you don’t like children. You barely liked yourself at age 10; short and clumsy and vulnerable. Children are too exposed and trusting, even in this life. They get people killed because they’re not careful. It shocks you that a fortress like Jackson carries so many. 

A pen and paper get slid on wood and placed in front of you. You eye Maria, and she nods encouragingly. You waste no time. 

I DON’T THINK I’LL BE A GOOD TEACHER. DINA HAS MORE PATIENCE IN HER PINKY THAN I DO IN MY ENTIRE BODY. I’M SORRY. 

You meekly hold the note up for Maria, and you know she’s disappointed. You patiently wait for her to tell you to get your shit so she can kick you out herself. 

It never comes. 

“I hope that girl didn’t scare you,” In reference to Dina, and you deny, “I had a feeling you’d say no. It’s alright. Kids are… a lot.” 

You set the paper down in relief that she’s not angry. About that horse… 

“Doesn’t hurt to ask… You still wanna leave?” 

That stuns you. Oftentimes, large groups aren’t so welcoming to… scroungers, or whatever Dina made you out to be. The less mouths to feed, the better. If a newbie holds no purpose, they’re left out to die on their own. It’s happened to you countless times. Why does she care about a stranger so much?

Maria chuckles at your stunned expression, “It’s, um… it’s hard out there. We’ve all seen it, and we’re lucky to have found somewhere… stable. It doesn’t come often.” 

“The choice is still yours, stayin’ or goin’, but if you’re scared I’ll kick you out… don’t be. We got nothin’ but space.” 

Your mind races yet not one cohesive response comes through. Maria laughs at your slack jaw. “Here. Sleep on it tonight, and let me know in the mornin’. It’s a party! Let loose a little. Go mingle.“

You scribble on the last bit of remaining space. 

I’M NOT A PEOPLE PERSON. 

Maria huffs, “Neither’s my niece. She’s like a niece to me, that one, over there.” She points at the end of the bar to a woman, girl — looks around your age, babysitting a drink: tatted, hair pulled back, and sulking. She talks with a guy with a mullet that’s too movie-star ready. “You two’d get along, I think. Her name’s Ellie. Jesse’s the one next to her, he’s a sweetheart. Very helpful. If Dina was here, they’d be the Three Musketeers. She still with the kids?”

You nod, but your eyes are locked onto Ellie’s tattoo. You’ve never seen one in person. In romance books, people with tattoos are always trouble: good in bed with murderous tendencies. Maybe it’s wrong to assume, but Ellie doesn’t seem like that. No one that pouty would kill a fly. You wonder if her friend has tattoos. He’d fit the stereotype more.

“Wanna meet ‘em?” 

Fire bursts underneath your cheeks. You vehemently shake your head at Maria, and mischief glints in her eyes. 

“HEY, ELLIE, JES—“

You gawk at Maria, tugging at her wrist for her to stop, but she laughs, “Hey, you two!”

Your face falls into your palm. “Need somethin’, Maria?” A deep voice blares. Jesse, apparently. Fucking great.  

“No, hun. Just introducing a new friend,” Maria whispers loud enough for you to hear before tending to other patrons, “Convince her to stay?” 

Your eyes roll and your heart pulses. 

“… Hey.” 

You wave weakly. Annoyed, and Jesse laughs. “Yeah, she’s a lot sometimes. I’m Jesse.” You send him a thumbs up. 

“… Gotta name yourself?”

You shrug with agitation. If someone else asks you that, you’ll scream. 

“… Hm. Okay, then. I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” You decline as politely as your attitude allows. 

“You, El?” 

“M’good.” 

“Alright,” He hums too uppity, “Enjoy the quiet.” He goofs before following Maria to the other end of the bar. Silence ensues between you and Ellie, and it’s fucking awkward. It wouldn’t be if you were by yourself. You pick at the piece of paper in front of you. 

Ellie adjusts her stance, attention on the dance that dominates the floor, her tatted arm propping her up against the bar. You can see the fine lines out the corner of your eye: leaves of a fern resting underneath a moth. A Polyphemus. Compulsive. A symbol of death, you once read somewhere. Regardless, it’s beautifully done. 

“Want a picture?” 

You stiffen and your gaze drops to the paper. Your eyelids squeeze shut in embarrassment. 

Ellie releases a hefty breath before sighing, “You read?” She asks, and you shrug. 

“You don’t talk?” You do nothing. 

She already sounds annoyed by you. You hope she notices you’re in the same boat. “It’s better if you don’t.” She mumbles to herself. You throw a glare in her direction, but she pays you no mind. She’s focused elsewhere, eyes much more delicate. You discreetly follow her line of vision. 

… Dina. Hilarious. Is she a god here? Good with children and the annoying and aloof? Everyone here claps and hoots at her being dipped by her partner like they’ve never seen dancing before. When did she even get here? Where are the kids? Maybe they’re all snowballed out and went to bed—

… What. What the fuck? You don’t care, what the hell. 

You turn back to Ellie when Dina waves at her, wide-eyed and princess-y, before waltzing towards Jesse to throw her arms around his neck, which he eagerly returns around her waist. Ellie’s expression goes from lovestruck to tense in an instant, jaw clenched and eyes burning through the floor. You try to hide a snicker. 

Ellie’s jealous. Adorable. 

“The fuck are you smiling for?” She grumbles at you, but her cheeks burn under the yellow light. Your laughter finally bubbles over. 

“Nothing’s funny. Shut the fuck—“

“Well, what’d I tell you! Two wallflowers hittin’ it off! Look at that smile!” 

Maria graciously interrupts Ellie’s angered mantra. Your hand hides your grin before a light hand brushes your back. You flinch away on instinct. No one notices except Ellie. 

Dina greets you first and you almost holler with joy, “Hey, Dove! Sorry I didn’t come over earlier! Had to get this circus goin’ since no one else did,” She casually takes Ellie’s glass and downs its contents with no problem, “Thank you.” 

“Such a dick.” Ellie says slowly, and Dina smiles. “You love me.” 

You pinch your smile away. 

“Dove?” Maria inquiries. 

Dina shrugs, “Better than Doe. Makes her sound like a corpse. Dove’s cute.”

“Cute for a bitch,” Ellie slips under her breath, and Dina slaps her arm in scolding. Tames her until she quiets like an actual bitch. This shit is hilarious. 

“I like that. Dove.” Maria approves. “It’s… fitting. Joel found her buried in white, so.” 

“Okay, Mrs. Poet—“

Maria’s married? Huh. 

She hushes Dina playfully. The dark-haired girl interlaces Ellie’s fingers with hers before yanking her off the bar and onto the dance floor. The music slows as if cued just for them. Dina pulls Ellie into her, and Ellie’s hands rest on her waist. 

Dina leads, surprisingly. 

Ellie’s expression doesn’t scream delight. She’s nerve wracked and her eyes flit over every body that surrounds her with anxiety. Even yours. 

Dina’s a good distraction. She's quite seductive when she brushes loose hair behind Ellie’s ear, caresses her cheek, touches her with tenderness that you’ve only seen described on paper. Only in your imagination was it real. 

Kisses her.

Oh. 

You turn away. Your skin’s hot. Maria’s distracted. Thank God. You’ve had enough mingling for tonight. You leave the bar without a trace, the pen and paper left on the stand the only evidence of your appearance. 

“Hey! HEY! Ms. Dina’s friend!”

“They’re not friends, she just got here—“

“Shut up! Ms. Dina always said respect your olders—“

“Elders, dumbfuck. And she doesn’t look old—“

Ah, the potty-mouthed bully. Although, he doesn’t seem so threatening in the darkness. Children are the bane of your existence. You’re nowhere near the infirmary. Why are they out in the cold by themselves? 

“Hey, Ms. Dina’s friend, how was the party! Ms. M said we aren’t allowed to go in because people are… drunk, whatever that means!” 

The same voice from earlier. Red-boot-Ranger. Dylan. 

“It means they’re alcoholics—“ A girl this time. Shorter than Dylan but just as expressive. 

“I thought alcohol made people happy?“

“Could be, but my aunt drank herself to death so I guess it’s different for everyone!” 

Goddamn. 

“What’s your name, miss! … Ma��am?” Dylan corrects shyly. 

“Ma'am means grandma—“

“Ruth, shut the hell up, Jesus!” 

“NO, YOU SHUT UP—“

Dylan waits expectantly while the other two kids attempt to rip each other’s heads off. You flap your hands like wings. 

“… Fly? Your name’s fly?” 

You shake your head and point upward. 

“OH! Sky!—“

You wave your hands in denial and flap your arms while squawking. 

“… Bird? Bald Eagle? Um…” 

You yank at your hair in exasperation before pointing down at untouched, white snow beneath your feet. 

“Snow? Snow bird? Uhh… Swan… Lake?”

Decent guess. This fucking sucks. 

“I don’t know what your name is, miss, I’m sorry.” Fucking Christ, the poor thing looks so upset. You’re suddenly the worst human being on the planet. “Are you mad at me?” Dylan asks, voice laced with insecurity, and something cracks in your chest. What the fuck. Your hands wave in denial apprehensively, and he exhales a held breath before smiling. 

“I like you! Why don’t you talk?” 

You sigh before scribbling on your palm like you did with Maria, and all three kids excitedly demand writing utensils from each other. 

“I DON’T HAVE A MARKER!” Frankie hisses when Ruth slaps him on the shoulder. 

“DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS? FREAKO!”

“Freako! ARE YOU FIVE—“

“What are you kiddos still doin’ up?” 

“MR. JOEL!”

Ruth and Dylan practically jump onto this old man and he groans mockingly. Joel. Hm. 

“You’re all supposed to be sleep. Did Dina not tuck you in?”

“She did, but we snuck out. We’re bored! Please throw snowballs at us!” Frankie whines. 

Joel calmingly caters to the children and their hyperactivity; his voice is very soothing. Gentle enough for the kids to accept that he’s not chucking snowballs at them this late at night. 

Joel addresses you. “Maria decided to keep you ‘round?” 

It was him. His eyes are calm and welcoming, but there’s a hollowness behind them. It’s hardly noticeable, but he’s bothered by something. He masks it well enough for the kids. He must be a dad. Maybe one of them is his. You just shrug, and he chuckles; crackles like fire. Breaks a bit. His eyes grow sadder the longer he stares at you. Is this man about to cry? 

“I’ll, uh… I’ll walk ‘em back,” He nods at Dylan who’s already half asleep on his shoulder, and you nod. He gives you one last look before turning. You clutch onto his hand before he can go any further. He seems shocked by the gesture, but you squeeze it with all your might. You hope every clench reads as a thank you thank you thank you. 

He swallows before nodding down at you, returning your gentle squeezes. The last breath he takes before leading the kids home is unsteady. Who broke that poor man’s heart? 

You watch his back all the way down the trail until the door to the bar slams shut. It’s Ellie all bundled up and seemingly about to strangle somebody. You can see Dina and Jesse scrambling to follow her through the window, but Ellie’s determined to get the fuck outta range. 

You don’t know why, but you whistle loud enough to get her attention. Her cheeks are blazing and her eyes are pained and angry. 

“The fuck do you want?” Her breath frosts with each spit she throws. You’re not really sure, so you throw her a thumbs up. Two just in case she read it as good work instead of are you good? 

She scoffs a laugh that sounds like a sob, “Fuck off.” And she’s off again. The opposite direction from Joel. 

Alright. Fuck her too. 

—

The past 5 days have been a blur. 

The morning after the party, your brain wracked to put every single interaction together but came up short. So much happened that you can barely grasp it. You died, came back, met at least 100 people, experienced acute peer pressure, and got cussed out by some short, tattooed psychopath with an equivalent amount of people skills as you. 

You’ve met teachers, medical professionals, rambunctious kids with a hunger similar to rhinos, a potential dad with an insane amount of patience, but all you can think about is Ellie and her fucking tattoo. 

You think that same moth appeared in your dream last night, flapping around and pissing you off. 

Maria’s been in a good mood, at least. Maybe because you’re staying in Jackson until further notice. You’re glad she didn't make a big deal about it: the inquiry was short and over breakfast the morning after the party. You slid her note that read CAN I STAY?, she said yes, and now you have a two story home all to yourself, floor stacked to the ceiling with your books and some she lent you. 

The first thing you did after she left was scream bloody murder for no reason other than relief. After years of instability, you finally have something consistent. You don’t know how to react to that besides weeping. 

There’s only one downside. Ellie’s your neighbor. Life will always humble you. 

She’s the first person you see every morning and the last every night and you hate it. The only time you experience true peace is when she’s out on patrol. To think you assumed Ellie wasn’t violent. She returned one morning on her horse covered knee-high in blood as she wiped her switchblade on her dirtied jeans. Even Jesse seemed intimidated. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been everywhere: tending the garden, handing beers out to men twice your age, fixing lights. Joel even asked for assistance on a car repair even though you’ve never seen one in your life. You both finished, though. Drives good as new. 

You think Dylan’s grown attached. He’s very clingy and you hate it but he also has the chubbiest cheeks you’ve ever seen so you have no choice but to forgive him for his sins. Whenever he jumps on your back while you’re squatted in front of the garden, you just deal with it. He rambles enough for the both of you. 

Now you’re serving dinner with a homophobe. Yippee. 

Seth sucks gorilla balls. When Maria first introduced you both, he thought you were deaf and asked if you had to be put with him. When you glared at him, he went red in the face. You understand why Ellie hates him. Apparently he called her and Dina dykes at the party and she and Joel almost strangled him. The canteen’s already filled with people, but the patrol group hasn’t returned. They usually make it back before sunset, but it’s dark now. Seth’s set on closing the kitchen down, but you decline everytime. They’re probably starving wherever they are. 

It’s not until an hour, then 2 passes when you wrap all 12 of their individual plates. 

You’re scared shitless, but it’s time for Dylan’s bedtime story. 

—

You always have to remind Dylan to keep his volume down during story time so he doesn’t wake the other kids. 

“Why would anyone give up anything magical for a cow? Okay, sure, you’re betting that they actually are magic, but why on Earth? I’d never give away my magic! Am I wrong, Ms. Dove?” 

You smile and deny. 

“SEE! Exactly! Anyway,” He refocuses on the page. “You numbskull! I can’t eat! You ruined my appetite!” 

Dylan’s a great reader, but he loses his place very often. You showed him the follow-your-finger trick and it’s helped, but the poor thing always has to comment on everything. At least he’s entertained. 

You don’t realize you dozed off on the floor until you’re frantically awoken by a teary-eyed Dylan. The big and small babies cry while they barricade the door with blankets and dressers. Your heart sinks. 

“Ms. Dove…” Dylan whispers. 

Screams echo from outside and the windows have orange hues. Something’s burning. 

“Someone bad is outside.” 

The patrol group is back. 

—

You don't meet Clickers often. 

They come and go and kill as they please and you don’t bother them, simply take your plans in the opposite direction as stealthy as possible. Even with your avoidance, they somehow always find their way back to you. Back to everyone. 

You hear everything from the daycare; hollering, gunshots, Clickers wailing, but you can’t fucking see. Protocol for a daycare lockdown is fairly simple: turn off the lights and take all the brats up to the nursery. It’s the most child-safe section of the building while simultaneously having a locked drawer filled with glocks. Great. 

Now you’re locked up with whimpering toddlers with a weapon you barely know how to use. If Joel hadn’t done that runthrough with you yesterday, you’d be fucked and so would the kids. You rock Dylan who sits on your lap while hushing the toddlers. You’re doing whatever you can to keep them quiet, but they’re babies who cry a lot. You hum to them, braid their hair, roll scratched-up dice but nothings fucking working. You never thought you’d regret staying in Jackson this early on. 

The younger ones start wailing when pounding on wood echoes from downstairs. Dylan holds you closer. 

Protocol is simple. 

Don’t open the door. Maria told you that. Keep it locked and don’t open it. 

The thuds get louder and so do the children and panic bombards you. It’s starting to feel too familiar. Those bangs are so fucking loud. Toddlers to 13 year olds are looking to you for guidance while you’re crumbling. How do you make them stop crying why won’t they stop fucking crying— 

Someone’s trying to beat the door down. Dylan’s practically choking you with his little arms as he sobs quietly into your neck. You don’t realize you’re crying until a small hand wipes your face and tiny bodies snuggle closer to you. 

Are you going to die surrounded by children all over again? One time wasn’t enough, God? The best moment of your life turns to the worst in a matter of seconds. You’ll have to run away like you did the first time. You should’ve never slid the note asking for more time with the kids under Maria’s door, fuck fuck fuck—

3 deafening pops bang from outside, and then there’s silence. It sounds like wood is breaking and there’s footsteps rushing upstairs and the babies are screaming so loud. When the nursery door lock gets shot off, Dylan screams right in your ear. 

“EVERYBODY OUT, LET’S GO!” 

“Mr. Tommy!” Relief washes over your kids before they start hustling. 

“OUT, OUT, LET’S GO!” 

All the kids scramble to grab their coats and socks and boots before rushing out of the nursery. Your hands won’t stop shaking. You barely get onto your feet before Tommy shoves you against the wall with fire for pupils. 

“You never fuckin’ wait to die when there’s kids around, you understand me!” 

You’re nodding but you can’t hear because you’re still sobbing. “Whatever bullshit you learned outside is over with now. It don’t matter what happens, always give them a chance to live even if it means you’re done!”

Tommy doesn’t waste another second on you. He leaves with a tense back and a rifle and you allow yourself to break. You heave and sob because that’s all you could do when you were a child and your brothers and sister were all killed in front of you. 

—

You vacate the daycare hours later. The doors need fixing. 

Your head and eyes hurt terribly but nothing compares to the emptiness in your chest. Maria told you that the kids would be separated into different houses until the daycare is safe for them again. Even she stares at you with disapproval despite her indifferent tone.

You feel like a ghost on the walk back home. Your hands are clenched in fists and your breathings slow. Why didn’t you stay downstairs and check the windows to make sure there were no intruders? Why weren’t you holding the gun in preparation for battle? Why’d you allow the kids to believe you couldn’t protect them? 

Because you couldn’t. In that moment, you were a child all over again, just as lost and confused and scared as they were. It was all too familiar. 

Jackson’s asleep, minus the painful groaning coming from behind Ellie’s home. 

You’re immediately in defense. So many patrol members had to go to the infirmary after their arrival. Maria never mentioned anything about Ellie. 

Your concern carries your feet until you round the corner, and her gun’s already drawn and pointed at you. That barely shakes you; it’s what around her that confuses you. 

She’s leant back against the foundation of her home surrounded by towels, a large bottle of clear liquid, and her profusely bleeding, non-tattooed arm that wraps around her stomach. 

When you take a cautious step toward her, her gun clicks. Her eyes are vicious and untrustworthy, and you know she’d kill you in a second. She watches every move you make down to the ragged rise and fall of your chest. You’re unsure how long you stand there before she winces in pain. It’s slight but you catch it. You slowly point to the open wound on her forearm. 

“What.” She rasps. You mime wrapping a bandage on yourself. Her snicker is pained. 

“Get the fuck outta here. You done enough for tonight.” 

You swallow thickly, unmoving. 

“Fuck off before I blow your brains out.” 

You take 2 more steps. 

“GET THE FU—“

When your knees hit the snow in front of her, she’s stunned silent. You’re already reaching for the bandage and bottle of disinfectant. You can’t see her injury that well, but she might need stitches if it’s still that bloody. When you reach for her injured arm, she pushes you into the snow. You groan in frustration before getting up and trying again. 

Ellie swallows a pained noise and maneuvers her injury away the closer you get. You’re trying to help her! Why’s she being so difficult! You crack open the disinfectant and your nose instantly burns. You gasp before moving the bottle away from your face. 

“Just go the fuck home, goddamnit—“

That’s not disinfectant. It’s acid. 

Ellie’s gun is still on you, but she’s not as steady. There’s a tremor in her weapon and her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth. Any movement she makes seems to hurt her. 

You move closer, and Ellie wheezes like an injured gazelle. It’s not until you see the small indentation when you realize her bleeding isn’t from a knife or a gun. 

Those are teeth marks. 

Ellie got bit. Your heart thrashes and your legs beg you to run. 

You know, and she knows you know. It’s a misunderstanding, it has to be. A human or a dog or a bear bit her, not a Clicker, not one of them. 

She smirks but it’s sinister. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll tear out your windpipe and feed it to one of those fuckers.” Her head jerks towards the gate, and as if on command, the lot of them squeal into the night like hyenas. 

[colorisbyshe]

Also, to touch on yesterday, I realized the grief I felt yesterday wasn't really about Liam, since I never loved him and spent years calling out his terrible behaviour, but it really was just like... about that period of my life.

Like I felt sooo terrible seeing videos of people telling their friends but framing it like one of those "haha your fave is dead" pranks and instead I had a bunch of people approach me delicately. I got to process with people who really understood. People with the same confused feelings and same perspective of "Well, fuck this guy, but he's still in all of my memories for almost 5 years of my life."

But also... a lot of people I haven't spoken to in years reached out and checked in and that sort of... became the focal point of my grief? Like, oh, this friendship is over but I still love you. Oh, we probably won't ever talk again unless someone else dies. Oh, I'll never be 20 again and in many ways that's a RELIEF but it's still over. That chapter is still closed.

1d brought me joy in a period of my life where I genuinely intended to kill myself. Friends who I haven't spoken to in years as our interests slowly diverged were in those 1d trenches with me and for a second we were back in those trenches together.

So, it wasn't about him as a person, it was about him as symbol.

People who I weren't even close to back then reached out because they associated 1d with me so heavily that a decade later, they thought of me when they saw the news. How could I not grieve? How is that not still a loss?

[mtt-burger-emporium]

thinking about chara and the implications of the line "chara hated humanity. why, they never said..." like ok i KNOW something was happening at home. chara baby you didn't deserve that shit i'm so glad you fell down a thousand feet in a cave hole and right into the arms of people who would keep you fed roof over your head and would never raise their hand against you. "eradicate humanity" you're 10 years old how about eradicating your shitfucked surface fam by calling cps first

[pomegranatesarchive]

PR nightmare | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: y/n is considered a pr nightmare. let’s watch her get into her first relationship.

notes: yet another repost from my old account, i tired to make it exactly the same, enjoy!

— y/n has posted new pictures!

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 737,938 others!

yoursername: my manger told me to tell you guys that the illuminati is NOT real and i was just joshing around !! 😂👍👍😂

view comments below!

user1: ugh this is SO BELIEVABLE

user2: | WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST

user3: yeah let's all ignore the "i wrote songs about an f1 driver!!!!"

user4: the pictures 😭

yourmomsuser: pic credits?

yoursername: you're like 60 why do you know what pic credits are ??

user5: the illuminati is totally real 🙄

mclaren: 👀

yourusername: NO THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING PLS LOOK AWAY

user6: no offense, but how did you stumble across F2 oscar???

yourusername: my brother is like a HUGE f1, 2, AND 3 nerd and he always forces me to watch races with him 😣

yourbrothersuser: you literally ask me to tell you when oscar's back on the screen???

yourusername: okay kill yourself????

yourbrothersuser: @/yourmomsuser

yourusername: GOD YOU ARE SUCH A SNITCH

ynupdates: y/n and her brother; jacob, were seen at the airport earlier today, she later posted the picture on the right, on her story, confirming that she is in fact traveling. y/n has no shows coming up, and she rarely travels with jacob. thoughts?

view comments below!

user7: guys guys..the monaco grand prix in literally in two days.

user8: SHES GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX. I KNOW IT.

user9: why's her brother kinda??

user10: you can't even see his face 😭😭?

user9: I CAN JUST TELL

user11: everyone saying she's going to the grand prix are like getting my hopes up??????

user12: WATCH HER GO SOMEWHERE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT 😭

user13: okay guys..but we never talked about what songs could be about oscar

user14: IVE DONE SO MUCH THINK ABOUT THIS!!!

user13: GIRL PLEASE TELL

user14: OKAY OKAY!! one that REALLY stands out to me is "my love mine all mine" because, we all know y/n has never had a boyfriend before, SO when she writes love songs, obviously people speculate that she's in a relationship

user14: WHEN SHE WAS ASKED ABOUT THE INSPIRATION FOR "my love mine all mine" she said "i sadly do not have a boyfriend yet. but there is someone i've had my eye on for some time." SHE COULD HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT OSCAR AND WE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE

user15: istg if y/n doesn't show up in the paddock tomorrow, i will throw a fit.

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 837,938 others!

yourusername: i could tell you where i am and what im doing, but its funny reading the theories

view comments below !

user15: are you going to a secret illuminati meeting user16: pls y/n pls just tell us

user17: this is cruel AND YOU KNOW IT

user18: pls lord, let y/n go to the monaco grand prix🙏🙏

user19: there's no way she ISNT going to the grand prix, i mean she's with her brother, and he's literally like the biggest f1 fan ever?? why else would they be traveling together

user20: maybe they're traveling together because they're siblings😭😭 ?? it doesn't have to connect to f1

yourbrothersuser: y/n pls put the phone down. i need a good nights rest for tomorrow.

user21: TOMORROW ???? IS ??? THE ???? GRAND ??? PRIX ??? ARE ???? YOU ??? GUYS ???? GOING ????

ynupdates: it seems like the rumors are true! y/n and jacob are currently at the grand prix!

view comments below!

user 22: 1 FUCKING KNEW IT

user23: everyone knew it...

user24: WHOO CAREEESSS oscar and y/n interaction WHEN ???

user25: ugh i NEED grid x y/n interactions RN

user26: y/n this, oscar that. WHAT I NEED IS TO SEE Y/NS BROTHER MEET MAX

user27: omg can you imagine how happy he is rn

— mclaren has posted new photos!

liked by yourusername, f1, yourbrother, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 837,938 others!

mclaren: monaco was a dream! thank you y/n for joining us view comments below!

view comments below!

user28: 1 SHOULVE BEEN THERE. I COULDVE METY/N. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME.

yourusername: thank you for having me🧡

user29: okay now make oscar and y/n kiss

yourbrothersuser: thank you for making my dream come true 🙏🙏

redbullracing: @/yourusername our garage next

yourusername: i think @/yourbrothersuser would enjoy that more then i ever could

redbullracing: he's always welcome to join 💙

yourbrothersuser: AHHHHHH OMG OMG

user30: okay now more grid x y/n content

user31: the way this became like a meet and greet for y/n was INSANE

user32: who would've thought there would be so many y/n fans at a F1 race??

user33: everyone's a y/n l/n fan.

— y/n has posted new photos!

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri 763,928 others!

yourusername: do you think he'll try weed with me now that he's my boyfriend?

view comments below !

user34: EXCUSE ME BOYFRIEND???

user35: OMG Y/N GOT HER FIRST BOYFRIEND!! АННННН

user36: OSCAR AND Y/N??? HELL YEAH

user37: okay let's just pretend that doesn't say what it says 😭

yourmanger: y/n please change that caption.

yourusername: i don't know how ☹️

user38: WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAPTION!!! Y/N AND OSCAR SHIPPERS RISE

mclaren: in case that caption isn't a joke, y/n please refrain from getting our drivers high.

yourusername: YOU GUYS ARE NO FUNN

user39: i love how public y/n is. like she genuinely acts like she doesn't have millions of followers

oscarpiastri: love i already told you, we cant get high.

yourusername: YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.

maxverstappen1: i'll get high with you y/n 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing: no you will not.

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[hearts-are-connected]

Dang it, I love this ship and I love the enemies to lovers trope. I get that a lot of people see them as a surrogate father and daughter relationship, but it feels like a been there/done that kinda thing.

As much as I love that trope, I'm also a little tired of it. There's only so much Last of Us style found family I take after seeing it for so many years.

The thing I love about VaultGhoul or Ghoulcy is the idea of Lucy breaking down of Cooper's walls while he helps build hers up.

Is he incredibly cruel to her and those around him in the first season? Yes, extremely

Does he need to chill out and find some of his humanity that's been buried under 200+ years of wasteland survival and bitterness? Yes

Who can bring that needed direction to his life while learning the ways of the new world she finds herself in? Lucy MacLean

I know that the canon ship of the show at this moment is Lucy and Maximus, and as much as I love him, I find the pairing obvious and kind of boring from a story telling perspective. I loved it on my first viewing, but upon re-watching the series, I wasn't as behind it as before. I see their relationship, kiss and all, as a kind of first fling for the both of them.

While it doesn't diminish the care they show one another, there's not a lot behind them as a couple. Now I know that some people might turn around to say how she and Cooper spent less time together than her and Max, but I guess the thing I look forward to is seeing what their relationship brings with the second season.

I feel like Max and Lucy will have a great friendship and I'm interested to see where the Brotherhood fits into their dynamic as well.

With Cooper though, I find his story so tragic, as it's supposed to be. He's your standard hardened survivor who only looks out for himself that's now stuck with the happy-go-lucky main character, however, she's not that character anymore by the end. She's still going to be the Lucy we love, but she's changed by the end. While not losing her compassion and some optimism, I think Cooper is going to bring out a harsher side to her as we saw when she bit off his finger.

I want to see her building up her walls and learning when to let them down. How to truly survive while still bringing her own energy to the wasteland and people around her. I want to see Cooper regaining some lost humanity while learning to truly care for another person again. To see the two of them as eventual equals in one another's eyes as they continue on their journey as reluctant allies.

I also want to say that I'm personally kind of tired of the 'age gap' argument. We have stories of teenagers falling in love with hundred year old vampires. So can we just drop the age gap thing?

As long as they're both consenting adults who understand what they're getting themselves into, who cares about an age gap.

Does it truly matter in the scheme of things when we're talking about a world with cryo-stasis and super mutants?

I personally don't think so.

I don't know if anyone will even bother reading this entire thing, and I know I went on a little long, but I wanted to write down my thoughts on the whole shipping situation with the Fallout TV show fandom at this moment.

I'm a VaultGhoul shipper and I can't wait to see where the second season takes our main trio of characters.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos. 

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[c0sm1c-c01nc1dence]

Red

✧ Pairing: Hunter x human!reader ✧

✧ Content/warnings: Soulmate AU, takes place during season 3, use of the word ‘damn’ once, the title is bland and I’m sorry, Hunter and the reader are both dorks, first post on here!! ✧

The “rules” for soulmates, as it were, were pretty straightforward. You see everything in the color of your soulmates eyes. Once you make eye contact with them you can see in full, proper colors. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Well, not for you, it wasn’t.

You, for the past sixteen or so years of your life, had been seeing nothing but red. Different shades, thank god, but red nonetheless. And to be frank, you were getting pretty damn fed up with it. The thing is that no one naturally has red eyes. And you would know; you’ve googled it maybe a thousand times already.

So you were fairly certain you didn’t have a soulmate, and this was all some cruel joke from the universe. But life marches on, so there’s no time to dwell on that, is there?

───── ───── ───── ─────

Another day at Gravesfield’s high school, bland as ever. At least until you caught a glance at your friend Luz. Rather, former friend. She’d been acting weird ever since she came back from that ‘reality check’ camp. And not standard Luz weird, no— she’d been avoiding you since then. Acting like she didn’t know you at all whenever you approached her, not to mention her sudden lack of interest in anything she used to like. The Good Witch Azura books, most notably.

So, needless to say, you were a bit surprised at her new look. Curly hair, a new scar over her eyebrow, and a general air of seasonal depression about her. Even though your recent interactions hadn’t gone so smoothly, you couldn’t help but ask. You were still allowed to care about her.

“Luz?” You called out from down the school hallway. She turned her head in your direction, and you could practically see the stars in her eyes when she saw you. She ran towards you, almost tackling you in a hug. Stumbling backwards, you hesitantly returned the gesture. “Good to see you too?” You awkwardly pat her back, unsure of what to do at the moment.

“Y/N, I am so glad to see you! Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She backed away and wiped a small tear from her eye.

“We saw each other yesterday, though?” You chuckled, still perplexed by this whole situation. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re kinda acting like you just came back from war right now.” Her face fell slightly, but her smile quickly returned.

“Meet me at my house once school’s done, ok? I have… a lot to tell you.” You nodded, and watched her just walk away casually after that interaction.

“Cool. Good talk, I guess?”

───── ───── ───── ─────

“So, if I’m following,” You began, now in the Noceda family’s living room. “You didn’t go to summer camp, but instead spent several months in a fantasy world, and the Luz I’ve been interacting with is actually a shape-shifting basilisk.” You pointed to Vee, who nodded shyly. “And in this fantasy world you became a witch, made a bunch of new friends, and got a girlfriend.” You left out the details involving Belos and the Collector, deciding that you didn’t need to recap whatever nonsense was going on there.

“Yeah, actually. You’re handling this surprisingly well.” Luz noted.

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.” You laugh a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what she’d been through during those months, and you kind of didn’t want to. “So, more importantly, do I get to meet these new people?” You questioned, and her face brightened.

“Of course! They’re upstairs, so let me go get them and I’ll be right back.” You waited downstairs with Vee, exchanging basic small talk. She apologized for the whole ‘impersonating one of your few friends’ thing, which was nice of her. Eventually Luz came back, new friends and girlfriend following behind her.

“Alright! Everyone this is Y/N.” You gave a polite wave, quickly scanning over the group. “Y/N, this is Willow, Gus, Amity, and Hunter.” You got a proper look at all of them as she said their names, your eyes landing on the blond last. Wait a minute, blond?!

As it would turn out, when you made eye contact with Hunter you could suddenly see a lot more colors. He clearly noticed this as well, as a light blush was present on his cheeks and ears. You could feel some heat rise to your own face as well.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Luz asked, noticing your stunned silence.

“I, uh…” you stumbled over your words like an idiot, still staring at him. Saving what little dignity you had left, your phone dinged from your pocket. Checking the notification, you gave an awkward smile and held it up to the group. “Oh! You know what, that’s my dad. He probably wants me home for dinner!” You put your phone back in your pocket, and began approaching the door. “I’ll see you guys later, okay, bye!”

You got the words out as quickly as you could, and bolted as soon as the door was open. You ran back to your house, face still flushed from embarrassment and being generally flustered, leaving a room full of witches (and one human) awfully confused.

“Hunter, what was that about?” Willow asked, as he still stared at the spot where you once were.

“Um- good question.”

───── ───── ───── ─────

Later that day, Hunter knocked on the door to Luz’s bedroom.

“Come in.” She said idly, distracted by whatever she had been playing on her Switch. He entered her room, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides. There wasn’t a particularly easy way to say this, so he just bit the bullet.

“So, you know the whole thing with your soulmate, and how you’ll only see in their eye color until you make eye contact?”

“Yeah?” She encouraged, curiosity evident in her tone.

“Well, it’s possible that maybe, perhaps, Y/Nismysoulmate.”

“What?!” She immediately paused her game, and whipped around to face him. “Really?! Tell me everything!” She sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He did so, face red from having to explain the whole ordeal.

“There’s nothing to tell! I used to only see e/c, I looked at them, now I can see every color, and they— I always thought your hair was black, by the way— and they just ran away!” As Luz sat and processed this information, Hunter continued thinking out loud. “Did they not like me or something? Is it because I’m from the Boiling Isles?” He questioned, grabbing the pointed tips of his ears. Cutting his rambling short, Luz spoke up.

“No, I don’t think so. They were always interested in fantasy like I was. Maybe they were just a bit overwhelmed?” She suggested. He sighed.

“I guess that could have been it.” He said, though the anxiety was still clear on his face.

“Hey, how about I try to get them to come over this weekend? You guys can talk about it then.” He nodded, and watched her grab her phone to message you. Titan, he hoped she was right about this.

───── ───── ───── ─────

A few days had gone by since the whole incident with Hunter. You had been avoiding him since then, though you honestly weren’t sure why. If you had to, though, you’d say it was probably out of shock. I mean, you were convinced you didn’t have a soulmate for years. And now this incredibly good-looking boy comes in from another realm, and he’s supposedly perfect for you? It’s absurd!

Though it was also worry. How would a relationship between the two of you even work out? He’d have to go home eventually, and you probably couldn’t come with him. Maybe he wouldn’t even like you after the way you left the other day, and he’d reject you before you even had a chance. That’d put a quick and easy end to all this.

You’d been really sick of the color red these past couple days. You usually were, but now it was for an entirely different reason.

Though you couldn’t avoid your problems forever, despite your best efforts. Luz had invited you over for a board game night to celebrate the two of you reuniting. And, well… who were you to say no?

───── ───── ───── ─────

The day finally came, and it had been going relatively well so far. No one else seemed to know what had happened or why you left that first time you came over. Though you and Hunter had been carefully dancing around each other the whole time. It seemed neither of you were equipped to talk about your feelings at the moment. But were you really ever?

Eventually you saw him slip out the front door. With a sigh, you decided to finally face the problem. No use in stalling any more than you already have. After telling Luz that you were going outside for a moment, you stepped out and saw Hunter sitting on the steps leading to the front door. He turned around at the noise, and immediately turned back the other way when he saw it was you. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him. After a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“You look really nice.” You glanced at him, and saw the pink dusting his face. You smiled at the way his blush would spill out onto his ears.

“Thanks, but I’m not really wearing anything special.”

“I know,” He continued, finally meeting your eyes. “I just mean, like- you look nice. You’re really cute.”

“Oh.” You said, quite simply, now blushing a bit as well. You looked at the ground beneath you, pondering how exactly to go about this. “So, this whole ‘soulmate’ thing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Was all he managed. His hands toyed with his pants, still a bit nervous about this whole ordeal. Unable to find the words he wanted, Hunter just looked out at the surrounding neighborhood for a bit. Eventually, though, he said the one thing that was on his mind at the moment. “So… what do we do now?”

“Well, if I may suggest something scandalous?” His blush deepened at your words, but quickly faded as he watched you intertwine your hand with his own.

“Wow, and we’re not even married yet.” He joked. You put your free hand up defensively.

“I know, I know! What can I say, I like to live on the edge.” He laughed, and you silently basked in the sound. You set your eyes on the sky above you, a handful of stars already visible in the late evening’s light. Maybe red isn’t half bad after all.

[leaderwon]

come back i still need you

paring : nonidol!jungwon x reader

warnings : character death, ANGST left and right, mentions of being depressed

word count : 1.5k

luna's diary : kinda shed a tear writing this

IT HAD BEEN, 3 weeks and 6 days, since you left him.

He was stuck in the endless loop of the 4th stage of grief. Depression, and was left wondering if he'll ever move forward to the next stage and accept your death.

Oh how cruel the world was. Taking away his lover and the plans for the future you guys had carefully planned.

You guys were walking on the street on the day it happened. Giggles filling the both of your bodies as a silver band of ring with a small diamond shined on your ring finger. He had just proposed to you, with promises of giving you everything he had to offer, of staying by your side until his last breath, to grow up even more and have little yous running around. Maybe you could get a dog and a cat and live in a beautiful home.

And then it happened.

He still remembers the way you shoved him to the side as a car came speeding towards you. Your yells still ringing in his ears from the past 3 weeks.

He remembers slowly walking to you trying to take in what just happened. In the corner of his eye he could see the once silver, shiny ring now covered in blood. Your blood. It was everywhere. He felt sick to his stomach. He cradled your face as he broke into sobs. "No no this can't be happening baby wake up" He called out for you as his sobs turned into a breakdown. He saw the light in your eyes slowly disappear. He saw the love of his life leave him, even though you were right there.

2 days later, it was your funeral. As everyone showed him sympathy and gave him hugs. He was still in denial. The first stage of grief. He couldn't even count the amount of times he heard "let me know if you need anything, Jungwon". He needed you back in his arms, but none of the people could give him that. There's no way you could have just left, right? What about the promises? The home? The dog and the cat? mini yous?

Few days later, he slowly slipped into the second stage of grief. Anger. He was mad at no one but himself. He should have been the one to die, not an angel like you. The car should have hit him. Not you. Or maybe he was mad at you too? why would you sacrifice yourself and leave him alone?

Then came in the third stage of grief. Bargain. He prayed and prayed that this would be a long painful nightmare. No way the world could have been so cruel on him. He was just 20 wanting to see life with you by his side, there's no way his fate was written like this.

After realising that this wasn't a dream, and you really were gone, entered the 4th stage of grief. Depression. He was an empty void as he laid on his bed all day leaving all his friends worried. He only got up to eat, which was very rare by the way. Leaving the texts his friends sent him on delivered, he read the last conversation you had with him. Where he mentioned the date and that he had a surprise for you and your excited text messages as a small smile crept on his lips. How he wished he never took you out.

Come back. He still needs you.

It was a new day as the sun shone through Jungwon's curtains. Today, was your one month anniversary, of you getting engaged and also since you left. Today was the worst of all days. It had been a month? no way. "i wish i could turn back time and change everything" he mumbled.

"Time" he jolted up as he remembered something you said about turning back time. Hope rushed through his eyes as he swiftly got out of his bad and rushed to take a shower and get ready. He could not believe he did not think of this sooner. Getting dressed, he rushed out of his home. Coming back taking the ring you once wore in his hands and heading to his car.

"I'm going to get you back, my love"

20 minutes later he reached your apartment. He did not have the courage to step into your apartment after your death. Opening the door he smelled your familiar scent for the first time in a month. Not wanting to waste time, he got in and rummaged through your belongings. "Where is it, god damn".

Finally spotting the shiny wooden box. He picked it up seeing a necklace with a tiny clock in it. Wearing it, he saw as it started to glow.

"How may I help you today?" a voice spoke out as he looked at a beautiful woman in front of him.

"Who must you be? you're not one of them" The voice continued referring to your blood line. "I'm Yang Jungwon, I lost my lover in a car accident, exactly a month ago from now"

"You wish to bring her back?" The voice questioned him. "Yes I need to please. She mentioned about this pendent to me a while back. You need to help me" He replied begging. "Jungwon, I'd suggest you move on. You'll lose yourself if anything goes downhill, and there are less number of chances of it going good and it going bad." The female figure said showing sympathy. "Please, miss. I don't have anything to lose anymore, she was my everything" He said breaking down into a sob.

Sighing, she touched the pendent on his colar. "What time do you want to go to?" she asked giving in. "Exactly a month ago" He said as the necklace started to glow again. "Goodluck, Jungwon" she said.

He was going to make sure you were alive. But at what cost?

In a blink of an eye, he was back. On the street, with you. "I honestly didn't expect you to do it today" Your voice said. Oh how he missed your voice, to see your face in front of him again and to hold his hand. He suddenly remembered why he was here as he became hyper-aware of his surroundings. He knew the car would be coming your way any second. Before he could think of changing your position, it was too late. The car was already coming towards you at an increasing pace. There was no way he could save the both of you.

So he did what he initially came back for.

He saved you.

Shoving your body to the side, he felt the car hit him as he lost consciousness. The last thing he saw was you standing and looking at him in utter shock. Atleast you were safe and alive.

"Jungwon? baby hey, wake up" you cradled his face and broke down into sobs, the same way he did, in another time line. You left a peck on his forehead as you left him there rushing to your apartment.

I'm not going to lose you Jungwon. Not like this.

You rummaged through your belongings, the same way he did. Wearing the pendent, you wished to go back 20 minutes from your present.

You were back with him, on the same street, holding his hand as you listened to him talk to you. You knew the time was near as you walked faster looking for a turn that could divert you form the path in which it was about to happen. Before you could find something, you heard the car's tire screech behind you. There was no way you could save the both of you.

So you did what you initially came for.

You saved him.

You shoved him to the side as the car came in contact with your body. The last thing you saw, was him. Atleast he was safe and alive.

He slowly walked to you trying to take in what just happened. In the corner of his eye he could see the once silver, shiny ring now covered in blood. Your blood. It was everywhere. He felt sick to his stomach. He cradled your face as he broke into sobs. "No no this can't be happening baby wake up" He called out for you as his sobs turned into a breakdown. He saw the light in your eyes slowly disappear. He saw the love of his life leave him, even though you were right there.

It was a new day as the sun shone through Jungwon's curtains. Today, was your one month anniversary, of you getting engaged and also since you left. Today was the worst of all days. It had been a month? no way. "i wish i could turn back time and change everything" he mumbled.

Fast forward to him wishing of going back to a month prior to save you. He managed to save you, but lost his life. Not being able to manage with the grief of him gone, you tried to save him. You managed to do so, but you lost yours in exchange. And this continued.

The woman was right afterall when she warned the two you.

Trying to save eachother, the both of you were stuck and lost yourselves in an endless time loop.

@leaderwon 2024. Do not copy, translate,alter or plagarize in any platform.

[cherriesxinthespring]

WASTELAND, BABY!– ellie williams x reader

hi! I'm writing a new series that happens after the events of TLOU II. it's an enemies to lovers. A story about ellie eventually finding happiness and love again. She finds her light; and so do you.

Before you read the summary– please read this. Free Palestine. Do not consume tlou fanfics without educating yourself about its zionist themes.

this story is only posted on ao3. read it here.

*SUMMARY: You had decided to give life one last try. That was it. After the events in The Last of Us Part II, Ellie decides that the only way to find peace is to turn herself in to the fireflies. She finds a lead; they tell her to find you, a young woman who wanders around with no purpose. When she eventually does, you refuse to tell her where the fireflies are; if she finds them, everything that you did in your past would've been for nothing.

You embark on a journey together, walking through rain, snow and through the darkest places this cruel world has to offer. What neither of you expect, broken and traumatized, is to find the light again in each other.

"For the world is Hell, and people are on the one hand the tormented souls and on other the devils in it." (Schopenhauer, On the suffering of the world)

LINKS: read it here. playlist.

C.W/GENERAL TAGS: enemies to lovers, AFAB reader, eventual smut, gun violence, ellie kinda kidnaps you?, suicidal ideation (both ellie and reader), r! is wounded, PTSD and trauma, triggering flashbacks. canon violence in the game, depression. overall heavy themes, but happy ending i promise!

CHAPTER 1: One last try. You encounter Ellie. She follows the trail of blood you were leaving. You refuse to give her the information she wants. So, she drags you through the entire state of Montana. "You’re bold for someone unarmed and bruised, with a gun pointed to their head"

CHAPTER 2: Courage, dear heart. A small flame inside you ignites. you finally have a purpose; to mislead her, and to escape from her. You come up with a plan, and that involves earning her trust. just enough until she becomes sloppy. But you can't let her see your skills; she might see you as a threat. That plan quickly goes to waste when you encounter a large group of clickers.

“I could kill you right now,” she said, holding your own knife against your throat. Her knuckles were white from how much force she was using. Her features were almost unrecognisable.  “Then you’d break your promise,” you said. “Promises mean nothing in this world.” 

CHAPTER 3: No one left to sing to The rain doesn't stop, so you and this strange girl are forced to stay inside the cave. You're feverish, disoriented. After a conversation in which she mentions the fireflies, you decide to go through her journal to find answers. And you do.

"Are you a firefly?" she asked, like she had just read your mind, or you were thinking out loud. “not a firefly,” you said. you held back a laugh, but she saw the flash of a smirk. You, the reason why they were gone after Salt Lake City, a firefly. “Definitely not.” you paused.  “are you?” you asked. “No.”

CHAPTER 4– Your blinding light (flashback chapter)

Summer 2033, Boston QZ You waited for Hannah to come to you. Life in the QZ was simple for you; being confined in between four walls, listening to your mom's Beatles cassettes, and sneaking out past curfew. That is, until your mom slowly starts abandoning you. "Maybe Hannah was the only one you had, after all"

CHAPTER 5– This darkness i'm condemned to

Ellie and you finally reach the nearest town. And your plan is successful; you finally lead her to danger. What you failed to account for is that this danger can harm you, too.

“took them out right?" you said, trying to test the waters. Trying to sound lighthearted, but failing completely at it.  "Damn right you did," she said.

CHAPTER 6– The injury of finally knowing

taglist: since i impulsively deleted my old account, i'm tagging my old taglist. it's still me! the bitch that wrote the abby greys anatomy AU! you can still join my taglist here

@kissesskittens @zahraaziza @uraesthete @elsvrse @lonelyfooryouonly @ximtiredx @ellabsprincess @spaceshipellie @machetegirl109 @sc0ttstre3ted @taylarxse @carmellie @mayfieldsz @brooklynvwilliams @rinarchy @elliesgffr @wannabwanted @ellabsweet @sapphic-and-sappy @imyour-favouritegirl @andersonsgirl @heyabimina @novadanversss @mulan-but-gay @lez-zuha @abbys-sweat-wife @maribelo-o @peppesgirl

if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you– please check your settings and follow these steps!

dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[misojunnie]

TRUTH & JUSTICE 𖣂

those who sin, must repent.

brothers jay and heeseung had always been the sweethearts of the school. heeseung; devilishly handsome, the brawn of the operation. and jay; stoic but sweet tempered, the brains. there was something mysterious about them; it’s what generated the obsessive fans. you’d always wondered why they never took interest in the girls who hysterically chased them—but you’d soon find out.

pairing: brother!heeseung & brother!jay x fem!reader (ft. sunghoon)

genre: horror, psychological thriller, somewhat inspired by girl from nowhere

warnings: violence, death, character death, substance use/drug dealing, bullying, all the characters are kinda evil (sorry), this one’s a little triggering!!, not really a romance, enha’s behavior and personalities are not reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen + mentions of txt

playlist: la femme ressort by la femme, is this real? by lisa hall, after all by alex g, cocoa hooves by glass animals, the perfect girl by mareux, tonya suite by peter nashel, mount everest by labrinth

word count: 13.0k

taglist ! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf @shixna606 @kumiwon @heeaxvhhoon

network tags: @kflixnet @kvanity-main @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: erm…sorry y’all...I kinda hate this... I actually spent so much time on this one and it's SO LONG too T-T but I hope y'all enjoy regardless, and look forward to more of fright night coming soon!

Everyone wants to think they’re a good person.

It’s in human nature to crave goodness. To delude yourself into thinking, regardless of your actions, that you’re pure of heart. This is incorrect.

The truth is that most humans aren’t pure. The scale of good and evil tips to the latter in most cases. Everyone has sacrificed something, someone, to get to where they are. Everyone has hurt someone to get what they want. If you have, you’re a human. If you haven’t, you’re a liar. The real question is;

What are you willing to sacrifice?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You had really, really, fucked up.

In fairness, your life hadn’t exactly been easy lately. It hadn’t been easy since you started high school, and it all began when you met Choi Yeonjun.

A long time ago, Yeonjun was your friend. The two of you had been practically inseparable, spending your time at the arcade, the beach, loitering at school. Then, something changed in him. He was distant and cruel. He joined a group who lived off hurting other people, skipping class and smoking cigarettes in the alley behind school. Suddenly, you didn’t matter to him anymore. More than that; you were his main target.

Your life became a tangled mess of violent arguments, name calling and stalking, brutal fights, and cartons of milk tossed on your head. You couldn’t go a day without being taunted, laughed at, cigarettes put out on your hands or your books. And every night, you’d come home crying, laying in your bed until the sweet embrace of sleep took you away from all of this struggle. 

Eventually, your brother Soobin had enough. You wouldn’t tell him what was going on, but he could sense it. He saw the burns on your arms and the tears in your eyes when you walked through the door every day at 4:00. 

One day, you came home silent. You wouldn’t talk, you would only cry tears with wide, traumatized eyes. You didn’t speak for days afterward.

Like you said, you had really fucked up.

After that, he fought violently with your parents to get you out of that god forsaken school. They didn’t care what you were going through, and they didn’t want to spend the money to transfer you somewhere new. But Soobin loved you, and despite the fact that he hadn’t made much money since he had left home, he spent the rest of savings to switch you to his alma mater.

Decelis High School.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You quickly realized that Decelis wasn’t a normal school. The minute you walked through those iron wrought gates, you felt an overwhelming sense of doom. Darkness. You had always had an extremely acute intuition, and it was overwhelmed with the repressed emotion of this school.

“Oh, thank God you’re normal.” you heard a voice speak, and you turned, your hands in your pockets. It was a boy, with short, blond hair and a chipper smile. “When the prez sent me to tour you, I thought you must be a loser.” You frowned.

“Yeah, thank God.” you mumbled sarcastically, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it, just reaching his hand out in a friendly handshake.

“Kim Sunoo.” he said, and you shook his hand reluctantly. You didn’t like him very much, with his toothpaste-ad-smile and blunt attitude. “Nice to meet you.”

“Y/n. Pleasure.” you responded, and he dropped your hand. “So, are you gonna tell me about the school or just stand there?” He grinned.

“You’re funny. I think we’re gonna be friends.” You hoped not. He led you by the arm, to your displeasure, first heading towards the courtyard. 

It was a beautifully designed school, with mosaic crests on the floors of the hallways and ceiling lamps that looked like they were from the 1800s. Despite your conflicted feelings towards the school already, you were curious about it. “This is the courtyard.” he gestured at the milling students walking across the cobblestone and grass. He pointed to two boys by a fountain at the center. “Those are my friends, I’m sure you’ll meet them later. That’s Riki, and Jungwon’s the student body president.” He looked around, before leaning in. “Huge stoners,” he whispered, and you raised a brow.

“Do you have any actually useful information for me?”

“This is useful!” he exclaimed, offended. I’m giving you the full rundown on Decelis High School. Trust me, knowing about boring things like where the nurse’s office is isn’t gonna help you get through the year. This is.”

“Agree to disagree.” you muttered, but he didn’t hear you. As much as you were grateful to have a friend, if you could call it that, this boy was getting on your nerves. Something behind you caught Sunoo’s attention, and his eyes widened in delight. 

“Oh, God. This is your first big lesson at Decelis High.” You turned around.

Two boys walked in your direction. One taller, red haired, his posture slouched with his hands in his pockets. The other slighter shorter, his hair jet black and standing ramrod straight. They looked like a perfect pair. The rest of the students around them were practically oozing adoration as they walked past, smiling kindly at everyone who addressed them, their fans practically in hysteria.

You felt paralyzed. You had no idea who these boys were, but you were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to run away, to flee from them. You had never had such an adverse reaction to another person before, and you weren’t sure why this was happening. You stood, pupils dilated and shoulders trembling, vaguely aware that Sunoo was asking you something, but unable to respond. You wanted to run, but you were lost in a trance, unable to move.

Two pairs of dead eyes latched onto you, and as the boys walked past, not once did they break eye contact. You felt the depth of their stare, you felt them reading your soul. In your mind flashed images of blood, the sound of a scream, memories you had buried deep down, and you weren’t sure why they were arising now. When they left your sight, you could breathe again.

“What was that?” Sunoo scoffed, and you shook your head, tucking your hands back into your pockets. “I guess you froze up, huh? That’s the average reaction.”

“Who were those guys?” you asked, still shaken by your brief interaction.

“Jay Park and Lee Heeseung. They’re brothers, well, half brothers anyway. Everyone adores them.” He crossed his arms smugly. “Seems like they have a new fan.”

“I don’t like them.” you said, your voice practically a whisper.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say at first.” Sunoo waved you off, and you looked at him sharply. “C’mon, let’s go see the cafeteria.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You sat with Sunoo and his friends at lunch. You attempted to explain that you didn’t mind sitting alone, but he insisted. Nobody should be alone on their first day, he said, but you weren’t convinced.

Jungwon and Riki were nice. You found them more tolerable than Sunoo, but that might be because they were more quiet. The only thing you didn’t trust about Sunoo was that he was a walking gossip train. And you had quite a few skeletons in your closet that you didn’t want anyone knowing about.

“So y/n, what was your old school like?” Riki asked, chewing on a forkful of food. You looked up abruptly, the burns and cuts on your arm beginning to itch, and you scratched them under the table.

“Oh, y’know. An average high school.” you brushed off the question. “Same teenage assholes everywhere.” Riki chuckled.

“You’re funny.” You wondered why everyone was saying that about you. You didn’t actually think you were very funny at all. “Do you miss your friends from your old school?” Your stomach was turning.

“Not really.” you said lightly, attempting to be as casual as possible. “I didn’t have a lot of friends at my old school. Well, not at the end, anyway.” The table went silent at that, suddenly awkward. You cleared your throat, attempting to ease the tension.

“Well, I think you’re nice.” Jungwon said, and you gave him a tight but grateful smile. “I’m sure you’ll make a lot of new friends at Decelis. It’s a big school.”

“Definitely.” you said, but you weren’t sure if you believed it. You rested your chin on your palm as the three boys discussed something you had no interest in. You wondered if the entire year would be like this, and strangely, you missed Yeonjun. Not the fucked up bully that you had grown to hate; you missed your best friend.

You felt a sharp pain on the back of your head, and you turned to see two pairs of eyes on you. Jay and Heeseung stared with unrelenting heat at you, before turning away in unison. You trembled. You didn’t trust the brothers, not one bit. There was something strange about them, something that the rest of the school refused to see.

Your old school had been hell on earth, but in a confusing, messed up way, you felt safe there. Despite what you went through, you never considered your school to be an evil place. It was an average school, filled with the cruel and unusual behavior of average teengers. It was in the nature of a high schooler to be cutthroat, you always knew that. But there was something more at Decelis than the typical childlike malice.

You felt something dark here. Like a threatening presence lurking in the corners of the hallways, skulking around the courtyard. 

And you knew you weren’t safe at your old school, but you had a feeling you weren’t safe here either.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Academics had always been easy for you. The work wasn’t the hardest part of school to you; the social aspect was a bigger issue. But you were hoping for a fresh start in that department.

You decided to take Psychology. It had always interested you, but they didn't offer it at your last school, and you never had the chance. Here, you were excited to learn something new. You walked into the classroom, and all eyes landed on you in the way they do when a new student walks in. You swore you heard a cat call from the corner of the room as you walked to the teacher, and you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, the new student.” your teacher said, smiling. “You can sit in that seat, by the back.” She gestured to an empty desk in the second to last row, next to a friendly looking boy, who waved enthusiastically.

He was brunette, with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. There was something inexplicably warm in his smile and demeanor, and you found that you immediately felt safe in his presence. You thanked God that you had finally been put in close proximity with someone who seemed trustworthy.

“I’m Jake.” he said, holding out a hand, then immediately regretting it and brushing back his hair, which made you stifle a laugh. “You’re the new kid?”

“Y/n.” you responded, holding out a hand, which he chuckled at and shook kindly. “Today’s my first day.”

“Oh, you poor soul,” he joked. “It’ll get easier.”

“It hasn’t been hard.” you said, removing your hand from his.

“Oh. Then I suppose it’ll get harder.” he said with a smile that didn’t match his statement, and you smiled in return. You liked Jake rather immediately.

“Is it that bad?”

“Not so bad, I suppose.” he glanced at the sleeve of your shirt, which had rolled up to reveal three circle shaped burns on your forearm. You rolled it back down insecurely. “Can I ask how you got those?”

“Cigarettes.” you replied bluntly.

“Wow. How’d that happen?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He immediately retracted, a sheepish expression on his face as he strummed his fingers on the desk self-consciously.

“Sorry, that was rude. People tell me I talk too much.” You laughed. He smiled again, and his smile was like a warm ray of sunshine. You immediately felt calmer in his presence, and you wondered if he had this effect on everyone.

“It’s okay. People tell me I don’t talk enough.” He grinned at that, before your teacher gave a pointed, icy look at your table, and you both went silent, exchanging furtive, amused glances.

“Hey.” he whispered when the teacher looked away. “You should have lunch with me and my friends sometime. I know what it’s like to be the new kid.” It made sense. You sensed the accent on his tongue immediately upon meeting, and felt a genuine kindness in his offer that was compelling. So you agreed.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It seemed like everyone liked Jake as much as you did.

As he walked down the halls, he garnered waves from just about everyone, bright smiles and chipper greetings as he kindly reciprocated every gesture sent in his direction. Hello’s and how are you’s resounded through the hall as you walked together, your hands shoved deep in your pockets. You wondered how Jake had so easily transitioned from an unknown new kid to a world class heartthrob.

Another thing you noticed was that everyone was kinder to you in Jake’s presence. Before, nobody had really noticed you, and if they did, they didn’t say anything. But now, it seemed like the student body had collectively agreed you were worth paying attention to.

“The new girl is so pretty.” you heard a girl whisper as you strode past, and you stifled a smile.

“Think she’s single?” a boy responded. You tried to tune out the compliments, but you had been deprived of kindness for a long time. It made you feel good to be loved.

“They like you.” Jake whispered, his voice low to avoid eavesdropping.

“Thank God.” you responded, relieved, and he smiled at that.

It seemed like Jake actually cared about you. He wanted you to feel welcome, likely because he went through the same process, and he knew how hard it could be to be friendless in a new environment. And you were more than grateful for that.

Again, you felt the stare of those dead eyes before you saw them, and you turned to see Jay and Heeseung walking behind you. You flinched at their presence, wondering how they had gotten so close without making a sound. Jake noticed your shift in attention, and turned around as well, a bright grin overcoming his face.

“What’s up guys?” he said, the three men greeting each other in friendly handshakes. “Have you met the new girl? This is y/n.”

You desperately didn’t want to talk to them, but it seemed you had no choice. They looked at you in unison, and you wondered if they did everything at the same time. It was as if they were linked by more than blood, by consciousness.

“Hey.” they said, also in unison.

“Nice to meet you.” you mustered a reply.

“Pleasure’s all ours.” Heeseung said, and Jay nodded along, both of them standing with their hands in their pockets, Heeseung slouching and Jay with his stiff posture, as usual. “I hope the school’s being kind to you.”

“So far, so good.” you said nervously.

“Y/n’s gonna have lunch with me today. You’re welcome to drop by.” Jake said sweetly, and they looked at each other, before they both smiled, somehow darkening the room even with a bright grin on their handsome faces.

“We’d love to.”

You were nervous for lunch today. Before, your only worries had been Sunoo blabbing your ear off; but there was something much more nefarious happening.

Yesterday, you were nervous, but today something bigger was happening, you could sense it in the background of every furtive glance and dark smile. Something bad was going to happen today. Your gut was telling you, and your gut was rarely wrong.

“Sunghoon, meet y/n.” Jake said, gesturing to a dark haired boy who was seated under a large willow tree on the border of the courtyard. “She’s new here.”

“So I’ve heard.” he said, assessing you with sharp eyes before looking back down at his lap. He had a large piece of parchment sitting on his legs, a brush covered in dark ink in his hand. He was practicing calligraphy, and the beauty of it contrasted his ugly demeanor. “Charmed.”

You felt a strange energy from Sunghoon. He was Jake’s complete opposite; cold, frightening, and with eyes full of ice and disinterest. He didn’t seem like the kind of boy Jake would be friends with, but then again, you didn’t know much about Jake at all.

“Hi.” you finally responded, and he looked up again, raising a brow.

“Are you having lunch with us?”

“Be nice, Sunghoon.” Jake warned with a pointed look. He turned to you. “Sunghoon isn’t good with strangers, but he means well, I promise.” Sunghoon glared at his friend, who smiled innocently. “He’s actually just shy.”

“I’m really not.” Sunghoon replied sharply, turning his attention back to his calligraphy. You weren’t sure if he made you amused or anxious. Jake sat down under the shade of the tree and patted the spot next to him, so you sat.

Lunch was peaceful. The majority of it, anyway. You and Jake chatted, and Sunghoon gradually warmed up, if only slightly. In the last ten minutes of your break, he started joining the conversation, commenting casually as he stroked his brush across the ink stained paper.

It was nice. Too nice, because you were inevitably interrupted.

The brothers skulked towards you, each in their neatly ironed uniforms with morbid expressions, and you sighed reproachfully. You knew the day was going too well.

“How’s it going?” Jake said brightly, gesturing for them to sit down.

“Just groovy.” Heeseung replied, and you scrunched your nose. You hadn’t heard someone say the word ‘groovy’ since the last time you watched a movie from the 80’s, which was a long time ago. “Hey, y/n.”

“Hey.” you responded, surprised that he addressed you. They both sat down, not next to Jake as he had gestured, but across from you instead.

“How’s school been?” Jay asked inquisitively.

“It’s been fine.” You were curious as to why they wanted to know, but you attempted to brush it off. You still felt extremely stiff in their presence.

“Making friends? Spilling secrets?” Heeseung continued, and you raised a brow.

“I suppose.” He smiled, a toothy smile that you certainly didn’t trust.

“That’s good. It’s nice to meet people you can be vulnerable around.”

“Being vulnerable is good.” Jay added. You found their behavior strange, but Jake and Sunghoon didn’t seem to share your concerns, Jake just listening attentively while Sunghoon continued with his calligraphy. You seemed like you were the only person who found them off putting, and you wondered if you were being paranoid.

“Well, we’re always here if you want to share some war stories.” Jay commented, the two of them simultaneously readying themselves to leave.

“Sorry we can’t stay,” Heeseung apologized. “We have to make it to the locker rooms before class starts.”

“Do you play a sport?” you asked before you could think. They both smiled.

“No,” Jay said. “We just clean up.” And with that, they were gone, walking down the grass, drowned out by the sudden chatter of their fans.

“They’re odd.” you mused, and Jake laughed.

“Yeah, they’re kind of a hive mind.”

“You get used to it.” Sunghoon said, his eyes still on his paper. You frowned, crossing your legs as you watched their backs fade into the crowds.

“That’s not what I meant.” you said quietly.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

School had long been over. It was 7:00 pm, and all the other students had flocked back to their homes, doing homework or rotting in bed. But you were in the library, investigating the endless inventory of books. You had always been fond of libraries; you believed they held a history that didn’t exist in other parts of a school.

Eventually, you became bored with reading and decided to explore. Decelis had no security, which was fortunate for you, as the school had been technically closed for the past three hours. The gates had been chained closed, the electricity off as the sky darkened. You used a flashlight from your bag to illuminate the darkened hallways.

You had never been to the east wing. All your classes were located in the west, and other than classrooms, the only other thing in the east was the gym. It was of no interest to you, but you figured you might as well make yourself familiar with the school in the minimal time you had alone.

You remembered what Jay had said about the locker rooms at lunch that day.

No, we just clean up.

The door to the locker room creaked as you opened it. The room’s expanse was wide, much wider than you’d think by looking from the outside, and you felt you could get lost in the winding rows of metal lockers.

You heard a clanging sound. Then a shout, and it sounded oddly familiar. You immediately froze. You didn’t think anyone else was in the school at this hour. Your shoulders began to shake as you heard the shouts continue, morphing into painful sounding wails, the sound of clanging persisting. Pure terror ran through your body in waves. You didn’t know whether to rush in and help or to run, but your body moved regardless of what your brain told you, walking speedily towards the sound. And what you saw froze made you seize up with fear, a blood curdling scream escaping your mouth before you could stop it.

Jake was dead. You were nearly certain of it as he bled out on the marbled floor, gurgling emerging from his throat as he took his final breaths, before growing still. Blood pooled around his body, soaking through his clothes, and you barely recognized his handsome face underneath the open wounds on his head. And standing over him were two sets of dead eyes, laser focused on you.

You were paralyzed, completely petrified as tears washed down your face, grief stricken although you knew him only for a day. Your only friend was dead, and it was all their fault.

You knew from the beginning that there was something off about them.

Heeseung was holding a crowbar, Jay with a baseball bat. They both dripped with blood, the sound of the droplets hitting the tile floor being the only sound as you froze in fear. You tried to take a step back but they only grew closer.

“Please.” you whimpered quietly.

“What? Are you afraid?” Heeseung whispered, and you didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you.” Jay said, but there was a cruel dissonance to his voice that you didn’t trust.

“Jake,” you sobbed, your chest heaving with deep breaths as you attempted to steady yourself. You felt dizzy. “Why Jake?”

“He saw something he shouldn’t have.” Heeseung said, and the calm stillness of his voice made you petrified.

“Please, I won’t tell anyone.” you said quietly, your voice breaking. “I’ll leave and I’ll pretend nothing ever happened. I swear.”

“Of course you will.” Jay said with a sharp toothed smile. They both walked towards you, and you backed up until your back hit a wall of lockers. You braced yourself as they stopped a foot away, their weapons still soaked in blood and gripped tightly in their hands.

“Don’t worry.” Heeseung said. “We’re not gonna kill you just yet.” A tear ran down your cheek, and he wiped it away with his hand. “Keep quiet. We’ll see you soon.” Then they backed away, Heeseung first, then Jay as they approached Jake’s body.

“Now shoo.” Jay said, and they both smiled as they watched you run out of the locker rooms and out of the school, the wind flying in your hair as you cried, running as fast as you could until your legs stopped working.

You didn’t know it then, but from then on, you were in the brothers’ palms.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You didn’t go to school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Soobin was worried that you had already given up on school, but you told him you had the flu, and he wasn’t going to disagree. You stayed in your bed all day, buried under your covers and desperately hoping to forget the image of Jake, dead on the floor.

You kept your promise and didn’t alert the police, despite your guilty conscience. You felt horrible that you were abandoning the only person who had been kind to you since you arrived, but you tried to put it out of your mind, which proved difficult.

After four days at home, four days of guilt, four days of imploring with your brother to drop out, you returned to Decelis.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sunoo exclaimed the minute you walked through the gates, and you cursed his bad timing. “It’s been four days.”

“I got sick.” He looked at you skeptically but didn’t argue.

“You missed some huge news. You know that kid named Jake?” Your blood turned to ice. “Apparently he went totally off the map for days, and then they found his body yesterday in a sewer in the next town over.” You resisted the urge to throw up.

“Is that so?”

“Weren’t you friends? I saw you having lunch the other day.” You looked away, biting your lower lip as you fought down tears. The memory haunted you, the image of his blood stained face and the unforgiving gaze of the two men who killed him.

“No, I didn’t know him that well.” As if summoned by the mere thought of their faces, you felt their presence, and you whipped around to see the brothers behind you.

Jay and Heeseung looked nothing like they did four nights ago. Then, they had been menacing, with eyes of fire and low, growling voices. Now, they were smiling happily, with sunshine in their voice as they addressed you,

“Hey, y/n.” Heeseung chirped brightly. You felt paralyzed with fear. Every bone and muscle in your body wanted to run away desperately, but you knew you couldn’t tip Sunoo off. And God knows what would happen to you if you exposed their secret.

“Let’s chat.” Jay cooed. Sunoo looked shocked. He couldn’t believe that it had taken you less than a week to cozy up with the most desirable boys in school.

“Fine.” you said quietly. You knew you couldn’t say no to them, so you let them escort you away, one on each side, Jay on the right and Heeseung on the left. You glanced back at Sunoo with a pleading look, and he was wide eyed. 

He thought you were the luckiest girl in the world. You thought you must have the worst luck ever.

Heeseung and Jay brought you behind the school, down a set of stairs you didn’t even know existed. They led to a basement area, stocked with brooms, buckets, and other cleaning supplies. The floor was sudsy and damp from whatever had been cleaned the night before. Jay pulled on the chain of a lamp, the room illuminating.

“We need to talk about what you saw.” You gulped. A desperate part of you had hoped that night was a bad dream. Neither of them spoke, and you grew agitated.

“What?” you snapped, and Heeseung chuckled.

“Don’t get impatient.” Jay said, and you shut your mouth tightly.

“Aw, be nice.” Heeseung said, patting his brother on the back, to which the latter glared. “She’s probably just confused.”

“I am. I am very, very confused. And terrified.” you said, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could think. You didn’t know what it was about them, but you felt compelled to tell them exactly what you were thinking. Heeseung laughed.

“Well, I’ll tell you it wasn’t a bad dream. We did kill Jake. And yes, we dumped him in a sewer a couple miles away.” You felt a chill run up your spine at the casual way he said it, like he wasn’t talking about killing another human being.

“I don’t understand.” “We create balance in the school.” Jay said plainly. “Our job is to make sure that people are punished when something goes wrong. Jake happened to see something he shouldn’t have. It was a casualty. We didn’t enjoy doing it.”

“He’s a nice boy.” Heeseung added, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“So who gave you this job? Who made you justice-serving vigilantes?” You were afraid to mouth off to them, afraid of what they might do, but they just laughed at you, as if they were both in on a joke that you didn’t understand.

“God.” Heeseung replied cryptically. You shook your head in complete disbelief.

“We’ll let you in on a secret.” Jay said, leaning in, and you did as well, like your body moved with a mind of its own. “This school has a dark history. Things happen here that don’t typically happen elsewhere.” You felt almost proud of yourself for your good instincts, but that prideful feeling immediately faded upon the next thing he said. “Something happened to us, a long time ago. Something very bad. And ever since then, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to punish the people that hurt others.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

“That’s for you to find out.” Heeseung said.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll report you?” They both looked at each other briefly, before laughing uproariously, a belly-laugh that made you startle.

“You won’t.” Heeseung said, still chuckling. “And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.” You looked at him, utterly puzzled.

“That’s the good thing about our job.” Jay smiled as he spoke. “We can’t get caught.” And with that, they turned off the light.

“Why don’t you kill me then?” you said, still frozen in place. Although you couldn’t see their faces in the dark, you felt their eyes on you as they both turned their heads. “You killed Jake. What makes me different?”

“We’re not done with you yet.” Heeseung responded, then they were gone.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

After your interaction with the brothers, you immediately went to the library to find any information on Decelis available. Fuck class, you needed to get to the bottom of this. You read through almost six books on the history of the school without finding anything, and you clapped the most recent book shut with a sigh.

Moving to the computers, you sought an answer in searches upon searches of Decelis’ many scandals and controversies. A couple of bullying incidents, a student who died in the 2000’s, minor extortion. Nothing that gave you an answer.

You searched for hours before you found something of interest, and what you saw shocked you to your core. You weren’t even sure if you believed it.

Brothers and sport prodigies of Decelis High School found dead.

You felt your blood run cold. The website was a minor newspaper, only available after multiple pages of useless links. You read the article hungrily.

As of October 31st, 1984, Lee Heeseung and Jay Park, star athletes and model students, are dead. Heeseung and Jay, both talented members of the Decelis football team, were dedicated students, and both incredibly popular, according to their peers. They were believed to have no enemies, until they were found with their throats cut in their own bathtub.

Authorities believe the violent crime to be the fault of a fellow student, or a cruel Halloween prank, but no suspects have been identified thus far. Local police are conducting a full investigation in an attempt to find the killer.

The question is; will Jay and Heeseung get the justice they deserve?

(read the article below!)

You slammed the computer shut, gasping for breath, grateful that the library was empty and nobody was around to see. You didn’t believe it was real, it must’ve been a prank, a cruel prank that they were playing on you. Heeseung and Jay weren’t dead; it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

“Do you get it now?” a voice whispered into your ear, and you screamed, clapping your hand over your mouth. Heeseung laughed gleefully at you. The library had been empty a moment ago, and you hadn’t heard anyone come in; he had seemingly manifested out of nowhere. “I knew you’d find out soon. You’re smart.”

“Is this some kind of a sick joke?” you asked quietly, your eyes shifting to his neck. There was a thin white scar that stretched across his throat, and you wondered how you didn’t notice it before.

“I wish it was.”

“How… how are you alive?” Heeseung shrugged.

“I’m not. I haven’t been alive in a long time. I just decided to stick around.” He leaned in. “Haven’t you heard of vengeful spirits? Disembodied ghosts who stay on Earth until they fulfill their purpose?”

“Only in TV shows.” you scoffed, and Heeseung looked at you with amusement.

“Me and Jay are stuck here. We can’t leave Decelis, not now, not ever. It’s our eternal duty to right the wrongs that happen here. And trust me, there’s plenty to keep us busy.” You furrowed your brows.

“That’s a horrible fate.” He shrugged, but you saw a bit of sadness in his eyes. For a moment, he felt like a human to you, before that flicker of emotion was gone.

“You get used to it.” he said casually, a hand on the back of your chair. “It’s not like we have a choice anyway. Me and Jay just try to make the best of it.” You looked around, His raven haired-other half nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Jay?” Heeseung smiled.

“Oh, just taking care of something.” You felt a chill run up your spine. “You know, you’re the first person who’s ever found out about us.”

“Lucky me.” you sighed, clutching your head. Your mind felt like it was spinning out of control, everything becoming a synthetic blur, and Heeseung’s laughter did nothing to help, his taunting howling fading into the background as you clamped your eyes shut in pain.

When they opened, he was gone.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were a complete wreck. You were forced to reevaluate everything you thought you knew about reality, about the living and the dead. Your head was spinning with what you learned, and you sought comfort in the only person you could think of.

Sunghoon was still sitting under the willow tree, but without his companion this time. His eyes were red from crying, but it was clear he had attempted to hide it. His calligraphy was sitting in his lap, but the brush was still in his hand.

“Hi.” you whispered, and he looked up at you. His face was dull and gaunt with grief. “Can I sit with you?” He didn’t respond, but made no moves to argue, so you sat.

“Jake’s gone.” his voice was hollow.

“I know.” you replied quietly. “I’m sorry.” He sniffled for a moment, wiping his nose. “I didn’t know him long, but Jake was kind to me when nobody else was. He was a really good person.” You were unsure whether he wanted your comfort, as a complete stranger, but you couldn’t ignore him. You put your hand over his, and he flinched.

“I just don’t know what to do. I miss him so much.” Sunghoon said hollowly, and you were surprised to see the stony boy so vulnerable. “He was my only friend.”

“That’s not true.” you said, and he looked at you with red eyes. “I’m your friend. Even if I don’t know you that well. I’m here for you.” For a moment, his hardened facade faded, and in one swift, shocking movement, he pulled you into a hug.

You held him as he cried into your shoulder, your blazer dampening from his tears as you rubbed his back. Tears welled in the corners of your own eyes as his sobbing quickly faded, and when he released you, it was as if it never happened. His face was hardened yet again, his eyes a little redder than before.

“I’m sorry.” he said, quickly wiping a remaining tear from his cheek.

“Don’t be sorry.” you said with a tight smile that he reciprocated. “You don’t have to pretend around me.” He sighed.

“Thanks.” he said simply, going back to his calligraphy, this time his brush painting gently across the paper in calm strokes. You sat next to him, your back resting on the trunk as you gazed at the leaves of the tree above.

And for a fleeting moment, you actually felt peaceful.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

After that, you and Sunghoon were inseparable. It wasn’t exactly your choice; but it seemed that after Jake’s death, Sunghoon had found a new friend to cling onto.

You quickly found that Sunghoon wasn’t as receptive to popularity as Jake was. Despite being good looking and well liked, he didn’t have many friends, which seemed to be a choice of his own. He spent most of his time with you during the school day, painting under the willow or walking to class together.

You had noticed something about Sunghoon lately. For the past two weeks, he had been coming to school with cuts and bruises. Some on his face, some on his arms, ones you had noticed when the sleeves of his white uniform rolled up as he painted. You weren’t sure where they had been coming from; you had asked if he was okay, and he brushed it off like it was nothing.

You were eating lunch at your usual lunch spot; Sunghoon doing calligraphy and you reading a new book you had just purchased. Your typical tranquility was disturbed, as you were dreading, by a certain presence.

Jay seemingly appeared out of nowhere, with his usual stony expression.

“I have to talk to you.” You and Sunghoon both looked up abruptly. You knew the past weeks had been too peaceful; something was up.

“Fine.” you said, tucking your book into your bag and shouldering it as you stood up. “See you later, Hoon.” He nodded, looking back down as you walked away with Jay.

One of the many things you didn’t like about the brothers was that they gathered a lot of attention. It was impossible to walk down the hall with them without garnering stares and whispers of envy. Even a mere conversation could spark rumors galore, and the last thing you needed was people talking about you.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Sunghoon.” Jay said, his hands in his pockets as you walked together.

“So what?” you replied sharply, and he looked at you warningly.

“You should stay away from him.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“He’s hiding something.” Jay said simply. “If you knew the truth, I don’t think you’d want to hang around him.” You furrowed your brows.

“What has he done?” Jay turned his gaze to you, and you stared into those dead eyes. The eyes that haunted you, that you dreaded to see when you came to school every day. The eyes that you saw in every nightmare.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” You shook your head.

“Don’t tell me he’s your next target.” Jay didn’t respond. “He’s grieving.”

“Everyone’s grieving in their own way.” he said plainly, as if he knew more than you, which you supposed he did. “It’s not an excuse.”

“He can’t have done anything that bad. He’s a good guy.” Jay abruptly stopped walking, turning to face you from the front. He had led you into an empty classroom, and you shuddered at being alone with him.

“People aren’t good, y/n. No matter how much you want them to be, people will always disappoint you. It’s in human nature,” he explained. “Most people are horrible. They inflict pain, they screw over anyone necessary to get what they want.” You looked at him with sad, pleading eyes, and for a minute he softened, and he put a hand on your shoulder. “You have to be careful with your heart. Don’t trust anyone.”

“What’s the point of living, then?” you said, and he smiled.

“Living is our curse. You only realize how much you want it until it’s gone.” he said, and for a moment, you saw him as the confused, unfortunate teenager he was when he died. “I would do anything to live again.”

“I’m sorry.” you said, and he shook his head.

“Don’t feel pity for us. There are thousands of lost souls out there without any purpose. At least me and Heeseung have a job. And not anyone,” he looked at you in assessment, “Not even you, could stop us. So it’s best not to get in our way.”

“I’m not planning on it.” you grumbled.

“Good. Then I need your help.”

“What could you possibly need my help for?” he gazed at you seriously.

“Just keep an eye out.” Then, as he often did, he disappeared into thin air.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

The next day Sunghoon came to school battered.

You had seen him a little bruised, but this was an entirely new level of brutality. The entire right side of his porcelain face was covered in bright red abrasions, his skin blooming purple underneath the bloody gashes. Dried blood lingered across his forehead and chin, and for once, he had his blazer on to conceal whatever was lying under his clothes. His eye was black and blue, and the flesh swelled.

You trembled as you approached him underneath the willow tree. Classmates stared in curiosity and disgust as they walked by, but you paid them no mind. You had no doubt whose handiwork this was, but you prayed it wasn’t true.

“What happened?” you asked, and he didn’t look up from his calligraphy. “Who did this to you?” He sighed deeply, leaning his head back on the trunk of the tree, and you could practically hear his thoughts spinning as he closed his eyes.

Sunghoon was alone. He often lingered around the school until after everyone went home; it brought him a sense of peace. And God knew he could use it; his best friend died, and his emotions weren’t exactly letting him deal with it properly.

Sunghoon was an angry man. Although some would describe him as cold, coarse, or unapproachable, none would say he was angry. But he was; oftentimes he wanted nothing more than to hurt anyone around him. Everyone. Now that Jake was gone, there wasn’t anyone to keep that anger in check.

So he started fights. Usually the underclassmen; never the same person twice, and certainly nobody who was brave enough to report him. He took pleasure in inflicting pain on other people, the same pain he was feeling on the inside.

Sunghoon wasn’t a bad person. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he had to get the anger out somehow.

He heard the door creak behind him, and turned around sharply. He didn’t think anyone was still in the school, not at this time when everyone should’ve gone home already. He was surprised to see two familiar faces come through the door.

“Jay? Heeseung?” he called out to them, and as they stepped out and into the light, he froze in fear.

He had never trusted Heeseung and Jay the way Jake did. He didn’t trust the vacant, emotionless look in their eyes, their odd mannerisms. Sometimes they unsettled him, but he had always liked them. But now, that empty look had transformed into something much more terrifying; vengeance.

Heeseung was holding a crowbar. Jay was holding a bat. Sunghoon stood up, slowly backing away as they approached.

“Guys? What’s going on?” he asked, but garnered no response except for the sudden leap of action, Heeseung and Jay both swinging their weapons with all their strength, Sunghoon falling to the ground, spitting blood.

He fought to protect himself as the two men mercilessly bashed him, blood dripping down his forehead and into his eyes as Jay struck his head, sending him into a dizzy haze as he struggled to stay conscious. For a minute, it seemed like they would never stop, blood splashing the ground around them as they beat the younger boy, but then they ceased. They dropped their weapons back to their sides, covered in blood, with satisfied expressions on their faces, albeit one more than the other.

“An eye for an eye.” Heeseung said, turning to Jay with a smile that his brother didn’t reciprocate. Jay turned to Sunghoon and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt. Blood dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it off with his sleeve, trembling.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.” Jay said quietly, and Sunghoon gurgled in response, his eyes wide, his throat rich with blood. Then they were gone.

You prayed silently that neither of the brothers were at fault, and Sunghoon finally looked at you, his brown eyes barely peeking from beneath his red skin.

“I got mugged.” he said, and his answer brought you no relief.

“Bullshit, Sunghoon. Thieves don’t do this kind of stuff to people.” you said frustratedly, and he sent knives at you with his eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I deserve it.” he sighed again, and you raised a brow. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to go to the nurse.” He stood up, tucking his work into a folder and shouldering his bag before speedily departing from the courtyard, desperately ignoring the looks thrown his way by your peers.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him.” Jay said, his arms crossed, and you whirled, the two boys suddenly present behind you.

“What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Only what we had to.” Heeseung replied with satisfaction. “I thought we were very clear about our duty to this school.”

“What did he do to deserve that?” you spat, confused and frustrated, and both of the boys looked at each other, then back at you. You were growing tired of their wordless communication, and being left out of it.

“He deserved worse than that. One day, you’ll realize that we were only trying to protect you.” Jay said, and you shook your head in confusion.

“We said to stay away because we hurt people like him, people that deserve a taste of their own medicine. That’s not the kind of company you should keep. Opening up to bad people means opening yourself up to pain when they eventually show their true selves.” Heeseung added, and you felt close to tears, you were so vexed.

“Please, just tell me what he did.”

“You really want to know?” Heeseung replied, rising to your challenge, and Jay signaled for him to stop, which he ignored. “He’s been attacking the underclassmen. He’s been beating them bloody, at least one a day.” You felt like your heart was about to stop. Why was it that every time you let yourself get close to someone, something horrible happened? First Yeonjun, then Jake, now Sunghoon. You felt hopeless.

“Let’s put it to rest.” Jay said when you didn’t reply, and Heeseung looked a little less brave then he did a moment ago, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We did our job. I told you, nothing gets in our way. Not even you.”

“God. Maybe it’d be better if I didn’t make any friends here.” you said quietly, and both of the boys suddenly felt pity for you, something they hadn’t felt in a long time. After a lifetime of pain and torture, they had desensitized themselves to the struggles of the living. But somehow, there was a pang of life in each of the boys’ dead hearts.

“Protecting yourself doesn’t mean you have to give up.” Jay whispered, and you looked up at him sadly.

“And you always have us.” Heeseung smiled. “Whether you like it or not.” Jay jabbed him in the stomach, the older boy letting out a grunt, and for a moment they were just normal teenagers in your eyes. 

You laughed. A genuine laugh, and their eyes widened. Heeseung and Jay had never heard you laugh before, and it sounded like the ringing of church bells, the dust off a fairy’s wings. For a minute, they reveled in it.

Then it was gone, and you said your farewells to the both of them. It was your turn to disappear this time.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Now that Sunghoon no longer seemed like an option, you went with the only other choice you had; Sunoo and his friends.

You remembered you had sat with them on the stone benches at the opposite end of the courtyard, and lo and behold, they were there. Sunoo’s eyes narrowed upon your arrival, while Riki and Jungwon greeted you with friendly waves.

“Did Jay and Heeseung run you off?” Sunoo asked sardonically, and Jungwon elbowed him in the stomach. “Ouch! What?” “Go easy on her. It must’ve been hard to cope with everything going on lately.” he said pointedly, mouthing the name ‘Jake’ to his suddenly sheepish friend, a gesture that didn’t escape your notice. You smiled gratefully.

“Oh.” Sunoo replied. “Yeah, sorry.” “Weird things have been happening lately, huh?” Riki said, and you looked at him warily. “First Jake, then Sunghoon… and they’re not the only ones.”

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously.

“Oh, y’know. Students dying, getting hurt-” Riki opened his mouth to say more, before suddenly stopping. You swore you saw Jungwon grab his arm under the table in warning. “Um, I guess that’s normal though.” he attempted to do damage control.

You assessed Jungwon and Riki with narrowed eyes. You carefully observed the bead of sweat on Jungwon’s forehead as he tugged on his tightly buttoned collar, the way Riki was desperately avoiding your gaze.

“Guys, stop it with the horror stories. You’re gonna freak her out.” Sunoo said, seeming blissfully unaware of his anxious friends.

“Don’t worry, I’m not easily freaked out.” you responded, taking a bite of your food as the table fell into silence.

Maybe Jungwon was nervous about his reputation, maybe he and Riki were actually concerned about the well-being of the students. Maybe you were imagining it, paranoia beginning to get to you, but you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be your last strange interaction with the two of them. You just hoped Jungwon and Riki weren’t on the brothers’ trail, lest they suffer the same fate as the last friend you had who discovered something he wasn’t supposed to.

Even moreso, you hoped they weren’t hiding anything.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jay was thinking about you.

That wasn’t common, not for him, a boy whose heart had died along with his body many years ago. And yet, he found himself wondering about you.

When he and Heeseung had first found you watching in that locker room, you were a threat to him. A scared, confused girl, but nonetheless a threat, someone who could reveal secrets about him and his brother that would make their job impossible. The two boys had agreed not to kill you then and there, but it was nothing personal, not a kind gesture; it was one of mercy. Temporary mercy.

As he began to spend more time with you, he saw you in a different light. He started to think of you fondly, the barrier around his lifeless heart beginning to shatter. He saw it in Heeseung too; in the way he looked at you, how his smiles turned from menacing to genuine.

It was dangerous for Jay to have feelings for a living person, you in particular. You were hiding something from both of them. Something big; a secret that needed to be brought to light, and a cruelty that needed to be punished. He just didn’t know what it was yet, and he could only pray these sickeningly fond feelings would go away before he found out.

Especially when their next targets were two of your friends.

“You seem pensive.” Heeseung said, and Jay crossed his arms, sitting on the floor amongst an aisle of bookshelves reaching a mile high. The two boys often sought quiet time in the library during lunch, where they could speak alone. “You know I can tell what you’re thinking, right? You can’t hide anything from me.”

“Shut up.” Jay grumbled.

“Someone’s grumpy.” Heeseung pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through the pages casually. In the past 40 or so years of boredom, they had each read practically every book in the library. “You’re thinking about her.”

“So what if I am?” “I wouldn’t get attached.” Heeseung replied and Jay glared at him icily.

“You already are. I can tell.” He didn’t respond to that, just putting his book back on the shelf. “She’s making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

“I’d suggest putting your feelings to the back of your mind. It’ll make our job tonight much easier.” Heeseung said, and Jay sighed at the thought of what they had to do that night. A job that had once been his savior from eternal idleness was beginning to feel like a burden, and he had a suspicion that it was your fault.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the endless killing?” Heeseung shrugged.

“I get a kick out of it.”

“You were always the crazier one, even when we were alive.” Jay said with amusement, but his brother didn’t respond. He was looking out the window as the sun began to float below the horizon, streaks of navy sky peeking out from the pink sunset. It was almost nighttime, and both of them knew what that meant.

“Time to move out.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon and Riki moved with the night. Their job was a risky one, and moving under the cover of nighttime made it considerably safer to do business.

You might be puzzled, seeing two angel-faced young boys in hoodies hopping the fence to a private school. Their limpid eyes and innocent expressions contradicted the nature of what they were about to do; but that was what made them perfect for the job.

Few students at Decelis knew, but when the night fell, Riki and Jungwon sold drugs to their desperate peers. They were punctual and reliable, which is what made them so popular on the drug market. They sold whatever they could get their hands on; weed, pills, etc. Most of what they sold ws diluted, low grade drugs, but they didn’t care. They made a shit ton of money doing it.

Unfortunately for them, Heeseung and Jay stayed at school all night. And it wasn’t hard to notice drug deals happening in what was practically their home.

“Fuck.” Jungwon said, glancing at his watch. “They’re late.”

“I wouldn’t expect Heeseung and Jay to buy drugs, y’know.” Riki said breezily, and his partner glared at him. “With them being athletes, and all.”

“They don’t play sports.” Jungwon said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his tense lips, lighting it, his hand cupped against the wind.

“Really? I swear I heard they did somewhere…” Riki trailed off at the sight of two men approaching, his eyes lighting up as he tapped his friend. “It’s them.” Jungwon took another drag before reaching into his pocket.

“Hey,” he called to the brothers, but his voice went ignored. They walked down the dark courtayrd towards the two younger boys, barely lit by the moonlight. “Jay? Heeseung? Is that you?”

Jungwon squinted to get a better look at the approaching figures, his eyes widening as he saw the weapons concealed in their hands. A crowbar. A bat. Both with crusted blood flaking off the surface, and two sets of eyes trained frighteningly on him. His instincts kicked in as he dropped his cigarette.

“Run.” he said to Riki, and the two boys flew across the pavement, the rapid fluttering of footsteps behind them as Heeseung and Jay chased them across the school.

Jungwon’s chest burned with fear and adrenaline as he ran, Riki at his side with wide eyes. Heeseung and Jay were right on their trail, their speed supernatural, and Jungwon braced himself as Jay reached him, his bat swinging through the air.

Jungwon hit the ground like a pile of bricks, the wind knocked out of him as his chest came in contact with the hard concrete. Before he knew it, everything had gone dark, knocked unconscious.

Riki was a fast runner. He had been on the track team his entire life, winning gold medals for his speed, and outrunning Heeseung should’ve been an easy feat for him. Yet he found himself overpowered by the older boy, who easily caught up with inhuman speed. Riki screeched to a stop, and so did he.

“Please, dude, I don’t know what’s going on,” Riki said tearfully as Heeseung tapped his crowbar against his leg, looking amused. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of divine punishment?”

“W-what?’

“Whatever comes around,” Heeseung lifted his crowbar, the metal weapon swinging violently through the air. “Goes around.”

Then it all went black.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were sitting in bed silently.

Your brother had gone out with his friends, and you would rather be alone than around your parents. And you were thinking, thinking about the night that had haunted you ever since it had occurred.

You were at your and Yeonjun’s spot. A graffiti covered bridge, in an abandoned part of town. Back in the good days, you had come here to talk about serious things, to ponder and cry when times were hard. Now, after years, you were back here alone, and you found yourself missing him despite how horrible he was.

Suddenly, Yeonjun was there. You hadn’t seen him this solemn in years, not without a sneer or cruel grin. He spoke to you, you spoke to him. He provoked you.

All you remembered was being filled with rage. Anger that had accumulated after years of ridicule, of hatred and violence. It was eating you from the inside, and you felt like acid had filled your stomach and throat. You wanted him to leave you alone, you wanted him to apologize, you wanted to hit him, you wanted to kill him.

Before you knew it, you were pushing him, and he sailed off the edge of the bridge with ease, his arms flailing, eyes wide.

You regretted it immediately, but as you looked down at him, falling in slow motion, you saw the eyes of your best friend. Those wide eyes, filled with love and fear and unspoken words as he reached up for you, before he hit the ground with a sickening crack, going still as blood pooled around him.

The memory of that night had tortured you ever since it happened, and since you met Heeseung and Jay, the haunting memory had only gotten worse. The guilt was eating away at you, and you had to tell someone before you exploded with the pressure of the truth. Then, you were suddenly struck with an idea.

You pushed your window open, ducking your head out and slipping onto the sidewalk before shutting it behind you quietly, running to Decelis as fast as your feet would take you.

After all, the dead couldn’t tell secrets, right?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

The school was silent, almost too silent, the crickets and birds cowering. You walked around the perimeter, checking for any passersby, before hoisting yourself over the iron wrought gate, lending deftly on your feet. You didn’t know what Heeseung and Jay were up to, but you assumed they couldn’t be busy at this hour.

Your first thought was to check the library, but your gut was telling you they weren’t there. You shoved your hands into your pockets, the cold, lifeless energy beginning to creep you out, chills running up your spine. You turned the corner into the hallway, and your breath caught in your throat.

Jungwon and Riki were laying on the floor. Their eyes were closed peacefully, there was no blood around them, and for a moment you wondered if they were just sleeping. But the crusted blood on their foreheads told you otherwise, a single wound on each of their heads. You clapped a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming, and as you grew closer, you noticed a small bag of pills in each of their unclenched palms.

“You shouldn’t be here.” a familiar voice said, and Jay put a hand on your shoulder before you shrieked in reaction. “We didn’t want you to see this.”

“What… what did you do?” you stuttered quietly, breathless, and Heeseung grimaced, his hand on your other shoulder.

“I’m sorry. We had to do it.” he said. “The school will find them here in the morning. I expect school to be closed for the next week or so.”

“I wish we could visit you.” Jay said, but you ignored it in your grief.

“What did they do to deserve this?”

“They were selling pills to the students. Low grade, bad stuff. A student died from them, others are in the hospital.” Heeseung explained, and you shook your head, refusing to accept this cruel reality. Suddenly their shifty behavior made sense, why Jungwon silenced Riki from talking about the dying students. They were covering for themselves, and you couldn’t believe it.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Jungwon’s the student president, he wouldn’t do this.” The brothers looked at each other, before shrugging.

“Sometimes people do things that don’t make sense.” Jay said, and a tear dropped down your cheek. You were so desensitized to death that at this point it shouldn’t affect you, but you couldn’t help but cry at the innocent look on Jungwon and Riki’s faces as they lay silently on the tiled floors.

“Life is fleeting, y/n. You have to be kind to people while you have the chance.” Heeseung said solemnly, and you looked at him with teary eyes. You had never seen him this morbid, without an expression of amusement or enjoyment.

“You two are changing.” you said, and they both looked surprised at your comment, eyes widening as they looked to each other in confusion. “You don’t enjoy this anymore. I can tell.”

“It’s not something to be enjoyed.” Jay said unsteadily, caught off guard, and you looked back at Jungwon and Riki’s peaceful bodies.

“You didn’t always feel that way.” you responded quietly, and neither of their hands moved from your shoulder as the three of you stared silently at the morbid sight on the floor.

You were right. Heeseung and Jay had changed, and you had changed along with them. They didn’t enjoy killing. The purpose they had dutifully served was becoming a burden, no longer a distraction. They hadn’t noticed, but you had changed them. You had brought them a new perspective on life, or lack thereof.

Day by day, they were becoming more human. And it was all thanks to you.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

School had been closed for a week. You were rotting alone at home, without the companionship of anyone to save you. Jake was dead. Sunghoon wasn’t an option. Jungwon and Riki had been found in the halls first thing in the morning, no longer breathing, their eyes closed peacefully. And without them, seeing Sunoo didn’t feel right.

Jay and Heeseung had given you their farewells when you left the school that night, and you hadn’t seen them since. The school was an active crime scene, and sneaking back in would make you seem like a suspect. So you kept your distance—but they occasionally left letters for you a few yards from the back of the school, as far as they could go. Their messages of comfort and humor were the only thing keeping you grounded, and you wondered how two undead killers were the only friends you had.

Maybe your old school was the better option after all.

Today, you returned to school, and you were not looking forward to it at all.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Was the first thing you heard when you entered the campus. You startled at the sudden sound of Sunghoon’s voice, whirling around.

He looked considerably better than the last time you saw him. The bruises and cuts on his cheeks had almost healed, and his black eye had faded to a slightly yellow contusion. The larger wound on his head was covered in a bandaid. What really stood out were his eyes. They were a pool of emotions; hurt, angry, and confused.

“I’m not avoiding you.” you replied, hugging your books to your chest nervously.

“You are. You haven’t come to lunch in days, and you didn’t answer any of my calls when school shut down.” You wracked your mind for an excuse. You couldn’t exactly say it was because Heeseung and Jay had told you he was beating up freshmen.

“I was sad. Jungwon and Riki just died.” He seemed suspicious of your response, but he couldn’t argue with grief, so he didn’t. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer, shaking the hair out of his face.

“Okay. Don’t ditch me again.”

“I won’t.” you said meekly, and he smiled at that, nodding his head for you to follow as you both began to walk to your next class. 

You had always thought Sunghoon’s smiles were so pretty, but this one scared you. Something was off about him. He was behaving strangely, and that scared you.

Heeseung’s warning rang in your head like the crashing of bells.

We said to stay away because we hurt people like him, people that deserve a taste of their own medicine. That’s not the kind of company you should keep.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

The bell for lunch rang, and you sighed at the prospect of having to be with Sunghoon, without an excuse. Sunoo never came back to school after it reopened. There were rumors of him transferring, something about being exposed for cyberbully, karmic retribution, blah blah blah. You were sure it was the brother’s work, but you didn’t have time to worry about it now; you were only concerned about being in proximity with the very person you were instructed to avoid.

Sunghoon’s face brightened when you approached the willow tree, and he set down his calligraphy to greet you with a hug, a tradition that you had never started. You then sat down together.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come.” he said, and you smiled tightly.

“Of course I came.” You took a bite of your food to stifle what you really wanted to ask him. Why would he attack your fellow students? Had grief made him violent? But you said nothing, just chewing your thoughts and swallowing them down. You weren’t sure why he had suddenly become so clingy, but you didn’t trust it, not at all.

“Watch out.” you heard the whisper of a voice in your ear, and you whipped around to see no one. Sunghoon looked at you sideways, and you sent him a confused smile, shaking it off. Were you imagining things?

“Stay away.” another voice whispered, and you knew it was real this time, you recognized it. Jay and Heeseung were trying to talk to you.

“Come help.” you said under your breath, hoping Sunghoon didn’t hear, and thankfully he didn’t, engrossed in his calligraphy.

The brothers heeded your call, and out of nowhere, they were towering over the two of you, their hands in their pockets; Heeseung slouching, Jay standing ramrod straight, a trait of theirs that you had grown to be fond of.

“We have to borrow y/n.” Jay said gruffly, and Sunghoon shot daggers at them with his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but you saw the fear deep in his eyes, the way his lips trembled when he opened them, how his pupils contracted in fright. When he didn’t respond, Heeseung grabbed your arm, sweeping you off your feet with inhuman strength, and you stumbled to regain your balance. Without warning, they began dragging you away, and you turned back to your forlorn companion.

“See you tomorrow, Sunghoon!” you called out, but he didn’t respond, just staring at you as you turned your head, practically flying across the courtyard.

“I thought we gave you very clear instructions.” Jay said sternly.

“Wow, no ‘I miss you’?” you asked sardonically, and they looked at each other, Heeseung releasing your arm.

“We missed you.” they chorused in unison, and you couldn’t help but laugh. After a week of being miserable, you were grateful they were able to bring you a sliver of joy. “Now, what did we say about Sunghoon?”

“I tried, I really did. There’s something weird about him lately.” you looked back at him, and Sunghoon was still staring across the courtyard, his eyes still finding you through the crowds of bustling students. Jay pulled you around the corner.

“How so?” Heeseung asked, lips pursed.

“He won’t stop following me around. He was mad I ditched him, he almost seemed…” you trailed off, but the intense gaze of the two men was enough to make you continue. “He seemed threatening.”

“Hm,” Jay mused, looking at his brother. Heeseung looked back, nodding, and you didn’t like the conniving look in their eyes. “We’ll handle it.”

“Please don’t hurt him.” you said quietly, and Heeseung raised a brow.

“Why? He hurt people. He deserves it.”

“I know. But I think everyone’s been through a lot recently. Please, just spare some mercy, just this once.” you said, and Jay shook his head.

“You’re sweet, y/n. Too sweet.” They both shoved their hands into their pockets, preparing to leave. “You need to be more careful with your heart.”

As they walked into the empty halls, out of sight from the milling students, they disappeared, their dirty footprints suddenly halting in the middle of the floor.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

“Tonight, we take care of him.” Heeseung said, a hand on his chin as he thought. School was over, and the brothers had been in a moral quandary the entire day, pondering amongst the books in the library. They were sullen.

Jay whirled around, brows raised in shock and confusion.

“Y/n said not to hurt him.” Heeseung looked at him icily in response.

“You’ve gone soft.”

“You have too. Don’t act like killing Sunghoon is an act of righteousness. We would be doing it for her.” Jay snapped, and Heeseung looked away.

“We’re doing the world a favor by getting rid of him. There’s something wrong with him, I can tell. I see it in his eyes.”

“We’re not here to do the world favors.” Jay said, crossing his arms, but he couldn’t disagree with his brother. He knew Sunghoon was scum, and he was a danger to you. They heard and saw everything that happened in the school. They could read the minds and intentions of the students, and they knew Sunghoon was going to hurt you, whether he intended to or not. And neither of them wanted you hurt, as much as they didn’t want to admit it. “You can admit it. I know I’ve grown fond of her too.”

Heeseung shook his head, “That’s dangerous.”

“It’s human nature.”

“We’re not human anymore. Don’t forget that.” Heeseung stood up, brushing himself off as he stuck out his hand. “We’ll call y/n here after school. He’ll follow her, I know he will. Tonight, we take care of it all. Both of them.” Jay gulped. He didn’t want to agree, but he knew he had to. He shook his brother’s hand.

“All of it. For Decelis.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Heeseung and Jay had called you to Decelis. They met you after school, telling you to come to the library at 7:00 pm sharp, and not to be late. They refused to disclose any other information, and you approached the gates nervously, hoping you weren’t about to be confronted with bad news.

You had only just entered the campus when you got the overwhelming feeling that you were being watched. You knew the sensation of your ghostly friends creeping up on you, appearing out of nowhere, no, this was different. It was more sinister. You looked over your shoulder, seeing no one.

Maybe you were going crazy.

“What are you doing here?” Sunghoon asked when you turned back around, and you shrieked, clapping a hand over your mouth as you practically crashed into him. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned that your instincts had been correct. But after you saw the look in his eyes, you knew it should be the latter.

“Are you following me?” you asked, your voice trembling with anger and fear.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I didn’t know what to do.” he said, and you saw hurt in the void of his dark eyes. “Are you meeting with Heeseung and Jay?”

“Why does it matter?” you asked defensively, and he just shook his head.

“You’re smart. You know they hurt me, I can tell.” You froze up, and he took that as confirmation that his hunch was correct. “Why? I thought you were my friend.”

“I am, Sunghoon.” you said to placate him, but you didn’t mean it. You were frightened by the flat, emotionless tone of his voice, the dark look in his eyes. He looked nothing like the Sunghoon you knew.

“Since Jake died, you’re all I have. A friend wouldn’t leave me for them.” he enunciated the last word with disgust. “They’re insane. You can’t trust them.”

“You’re one to talk.” you bit back. “Beating up the underclassmen? Sending kids home with bloody faces? That’s insane. If I can’t trust them, I can’t trust you either!” Your breath hitched when he grabbed you by the collar, eyes flashing with anger.

“Let go of her.” Jay said, his voice hardened, and you heaved a sigh of relief. Sunghoon jumped in fright, eyes darting back and forth at the boy who had seemed to appear out of thin air.

“Where did you come from?” he asked in confusion, backing away from you as you ran behind Jay, seeking protection.

“Don’t you get it?” Heeseung’s voice rang through the schoolyard before his body was visible, manifesting himself only a few feet from Sunghoon’s face. “C’mon, you’re smart. You should’ve figured this out by now.” He tapped his crowbar against the ground while Sunghoon backed up in terror, Jay stretching his arm out in front of you protectively. You looked up at his stony expression, realization setting in as you noticed Heeseung’s weapon.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him.” you said, voice meek, and Jay didn’t reply.

“What are you?” Sunghoon stuttered, and Heeseung smiled, raising his crowbar into the air, so far back that it reached past his shoulder.

“Pray you never find out.” Then Heeseung recoiled the weapon, swinging it back with the strength of an ox.

You had seen the aftermath of Heeseung and Jay’s work, but seeing them kill in front of your eyes was more than you could handle. The sickening sound of the crowbar lodging itself in Sunghoon’s head and the way the light left his eyes made you struggle not to vomit, and his body crumpled to the floor, killed with a single hit. In that moment, you were reminded that these were not your friends, these were killers, with the strength of a god, and a conscience as dead as their hearts. You felt something you hadn’t felt around them in a long time; pure fear. And as Jay released you and Heeseung dislodged his weapon, you only felt it intensifying until it was unbearable, the brothers turning around to face you.

You felt yourself struggle to breathe, your eyes desperately avoiding the sight of Sunghoon’s lifeless body on the floor. You dropped to your knees, the concrete scraping against your bare skin. They didn’t say a word to you, and you noticed their tight grips on their weapons, Heeseung bloody hand wrapped around the crowbar, Jay’s knuckles blanching as he gripped his bat.

“Y/n,” Heeseung said, and when he said your name, it sounded like a farewell. “We need you to be honest with us.” You looked up at them silently, attempting to slow your breath.

This wasn’t right. This entire situation was off. Your head was spinning, and you felt like your heart might stop at any second.

“What?” you replied, your voice croaking.

“You’ve sinned.” Jay said, and you hardly recognized his voice, hollow and full of desperation. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and bile rose in your throat. “We know you have. Just tell us what you did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t pretend.” Heeseung said, kneeling down to you as he spoke, placing a cold hand on your cheek. “Just tell us.” You felt all hope leave your body as your eyes dropped to the stony floor.

You knew. You suddenly knew what was happening, and that there was no way to prevent it. In those mere moments before you answered, as you watched blood and memories of a still body beneath a bridge flash through your head, you wished your brother had never sent you here.

“I killed my best friend.” you whispered. You didn’t tell them the whole story, you couldn’t bear to, you couldn’t relive that pain. You couldn’t explain that you didn’t mean to, that he had tortured you for years before you ended him. So you didn’t say anything, and as you looked back up at them, their dark, matching eyes that you had grown to love had returned to darkness. Dead and unfeeling, just as the day you met them. It was as if you had flipped a switch in them, and Heeseung sighed as he stood up. Jay stepped towards you, and for a moment, you prayed he might forgive you, tell you that everything was okay. But you forgot that forgiveness was the only thing they couldn’t feel. So he didn’t. Instead, he raised his bat, saying;

“I’m sorry.”

Then everything went black.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

[yesimwriting]

Safe

A/n this was originally meant to be a smaller drabble but it spiraled, also i'm rewatching outer banks and am deep in my jj era <3

Warnings/info: the time period isn’t super relevant but i did write it with mid-ish season 1 in mind, kook!reader, reader smoking for the first time, kinda sheltered reader, jj having a bit of an attitude at first, and my first time writing for a character so pls be nice 😭

Summary: As the newest addition to Figure 8, you haven’t been able to make many friends outside of Sarah Cameron, no matter how hard she tries to get her friend group to bend their no-kook rule. But after JJ pulls you aside at a party, you start to think that you may not be as much of a lost cause as you thought.

----

Thinking about JJ whose little more to you than a fixture of Sarah's friend group, the same group that's too hesitant to bend their no-kooks rule for a girl that Sarah's only recently started hanging out with for you to ever feel fully welcomed around them.

Sure, most of Sarah's friends are nice enough--John B a little more amicable than the others because he's Sarah's boyfriend, and Pope's been happy enough to make conversation with you since after the first time you drank a little too much in front of them (apparently, you're a lot funnier when you're tipsy).

The second half of Sarah's friend group has an easier time openly holding onto their doubts. And you can't even really fault them for it. Kiara's faced the social brutality of your world enough times to warrant her doubts and JJ has every reason to hate kooks.

It doesn't mean it never feels awkward, though. Like when Sarah invites you to a party and then innocently leaves you alone for five minutes just for you to almost immediately accidentally lock eyes with JJ.

He's across the room, standing next to Pope and a guy you don't recognize. Pope's too caught up in friendly conversation to notice you standing there, but for whatever reason, JJ's head is turned towards you. He watches you with an openness that'd be a lot more unnerving if you hadn't recently finished your third drink of the night. You stare back, if for no other reason than to try to decipher the slight draw of his eyebrows.

For a second, you think he might do something. Not necessarily wave you over, but maybe nod or smile politely or offer anything that implies at least acquaintanceship. Instead, he allows his gaze to shift downwards at a pace that feels a little too deliberate before returning to his conversation.

You sigh, a lot more agitated by the snub than you've let yourself be about anything. Before you can fully lean into the feeling, there's a voice, "Hey." You turn, surprised by the closeness of the sound. "You're new, right?"

You blink, wondering if the question is an assumption rooted in your lack of familiarity or in the way you're carrying yourself. Maybe a little of both considering you can't remember ever seeing this guy.

"Yeah," you confirm with a polite nod, "My family and I moved right before summer break."

The stranger nods back: “Cool," he mumbles, "We don't get a lot of new people." There's nothing sharp about the way he says it, but something about the sentiment makes it difficult to not sarcastically let him know that you've noticed. It's not that anyone's been particularly cruel about you being new, it's just hard to move to a town where most friendships were cemented in sandboxes and on swing sets.

When the guy you don't know continues to watch you, you realize that you've yet to respond to him. "Yeah," it's only a little more deflated than you wanted it to be. You shift your weight from one foot to the other before amending your statement, "But everyone's been pretty nice so far."

"I'm sure," he breathes the words out like they're some joke you're not privy to. If the stranger notes your confusion, he gives no indication of it. "And I'm about to be a whole lot nicer..." He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out something that takes you a second too long to recognize as a joint.

Oh. Your fingers press themselves into your palms. It's not that you're against the idea of smoking, it's just not something you were expecting to do for the first time tonight. Especially with some guy you don't know.

He places the joint between his lips before pulling a lighter from his pocket. The stranger takes his time inhaling the smoke before extending his arm in a silent offering. When you don't immediately jump into action, he prompts you, "Come on..." He takes a step towards you, "Think of it as a welcome gift."

The more you think about it, the less the idea bothers you. This isn't how you saw your night going, but getting high with some guy you just met has to be better than awkwardly waiting for Sarah or forcing yourself onto people who don't really want you around.

You lift your hand, but before your fingers can touch his, something warm and hard presses into your shoulder. You step back, too surprised to really try escaping the force that just latched itself onto your arm.

"Hey, princess." You sigh. It's JJ--just JJ, whose addressing you with a familiarity he's never directed towards you. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Really. You don't know what his issue is, but clearly, he has one because why else would he pointedly ignore you just to do this when someone besides Sarah starts being nice to you? You part your lips, ready to tell him as much when his hand moves off your arm and comes to rest around your shoulders. He tugs you towards him, making it impossible to ignore his warmth.

JJ straightens slightly, turning his attention to the guy in front of you. "Mind if I steal her for a second?"

The guy frowns. "Uh..." He pulls his arm towards himself. "No, man, go ahead."

JJ offers him a tight lipped smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. With that, he begins to walk forward, arm still around you.

He's quick, making his way through the crowded living room and into a less familiar hallway with long strides that are nearly impossible for you to keep up with. "J--JJ" He doesn't react. "What--"

Before you can get the question out, JJ stalls in front of a shut door. He opens it, ushering you into the new room with a startlingly gentle squeeze of your shoulder. JJ's right behind you, shutting the door behind him.

JJ exhales, the sound sharp and a lot more frustrated than you've ever heard him be. While JJ might not like you, he's never been mad at you. He's never been mean to you. At least, not in a way that transcends occasional bouts of passive aggression.

You're quiet for a moment, attention briefly shifting away from him and onto your surroundings. His sudden interest in you was so distracting, you hadn't really thought about where he might've been taking you. You're both standing in a bedroom now. Completely alone. More alone than you've ever been with him.

The realization is something that you immediately force yourself to push past. He's the one that ruined your chance at hanging out with someone that wanted you around. "What's your problem?"

"My problem," from him, the phrase sounds ridiculous. Like you’re the crazy one for not already understanding his actions. He scoffs, shaking his head once. "Did you even know that guy?"

There's no good answer. Your lips part, a half thought out lie resting against the back of your throat. After a second, you decide against it. He'd be able to tell. "Does it matter?"

He scoffs again, this time the sound even sharper than before. "I guess book smart doesn't count for everything."

"Hey--"

"Did you even ask him what he was smoking?"

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "No, because I was hoping it was full of hard drugs that'd kill me." You lift your chin slightly in an attempt to force yourself to hold his gaze, "I know what weed looks like."

He stills, eyeing you in a way that you don't understand. You guess you can't really blame him for his surprise. You doubt you’ve ever directed your sarcasm at him.

JJ's quick to refocus, his frustration returning so quickly it nearly gives you whiplash, "It could have been laced with anything. Just because you look like you came out of a princess movie doesn't mean you live in one."

You press your lips together, deeply unimpressed by the thought of JJ Maybank of all people giving you a safety lecture. You might not know him well enough to have personally witnessed the extent of his recklessness, but Sarah's told you enough stories for you to understand that he's being a total hypocrite.

And while you'd be completely justified in calling him out, there's something about the way he's watching you that tells you he doesn't want to hear it. "I'm not stupid, I saw him smoke it himself first."

JJ scoffs for the third time. You roll your eyes. "It's a party, lighten up."

He's studying you with an openness that even the alcohol in your system can't make a bearable. You swallow in an attempt to ignore the feeling. JJ takes a step forward, and then another, moving at an agonizingly measured pace until he's so close you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

You're not sure what he's looking for, but his assessment ends with his lips pulling themselves into a smirk. "You've never smoked before, have you?"

Your skin feels a little warmer than it did a second ago. It'd be an easy enough thing to deny, but then you wouldn't just be someone who hasn't smoked weed before, you'd also be the girl insecure enough to have lied about it.

You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. "I'm going back to the party," the claim is a lot more certain than you feel. "But if I decide to go upstairs and ask Sarah's brother for a line, you'll be the first to know."

The sentence leaves an uncomfortable heat crawling up your neck. It wasn't exactly a cruel thing to say, but it wasn't nice either. JJ may not be your best friend but anyone in proximity of either of them is well aware of the issues between him and Rafe.

You swallow in an attempt to dismiss your regret. You force your gaze to the ground as you shift forward. He's standing in front of the door, but he'd--he'll move if you make it clear you're leaving.

His hand finds your forearm before you can turn fully. Maybe the Rafe comment had been too much. "JJ--"

He presses his lips together, expression uninterpretable as he watches you. "I didn't know you were such a brat." When you give him no sign of recognition, he continues, "You hear 'no' for the first time in your life and you throw a fit."

You glare. "Maybe it's because it's not your place to tell me not to do anything."

"So next time I see you doing something unsafe I should just let you?"

He's still holding onto your arm, which would be a lot more irritating if wasn't for the way that he carefully dragged his thumb against your skin. If you really wanted space, you would have tried pulling away by now.

You let out a breath. JJ had no right to do what he did, but he didn't mean it in a bad way. And that has to count for something. "And you're always so safe?"

His eyebrows draw together at that. "For you--safer than him."

Your lips part, but before you can begin to explain that that's not how you meant it, he releases you.

JJ's hand finds his pocket. He gives you no indication of what he might be looking for until he's pulled it out of his pocket. "You want to smoke? At least do it with someone who isn't going to leave you passed out at a party or worse."

You'd roll your eyes, but you're too happy with your newfound peace to risk it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a lighter before bringing the joint to his lips. He inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out.

He extends his arm, offering you the joint. You eye him curiously, wondering how much of this is coming from a place of pity.

"It's a party," he mumbles, elevating his pitch in an attempt to mimic you, "Lighten up."

You halfheartedly glare at the use of your own words against you as you reach for the joint. JJ watches you as you place the joint between your lips. You follow his example, inhaling for a long second before pulling it away.

He places a hand on your back, smoothing comforting circles against your upper spine. "Hold it." You listen as best you can, resisting the urge to exhale until JJ tells you to let it out. To your surprise, he doesn't tease you for the raspy cough that follows. Instead, JJ just continues to trace circles against your back until you can breathe fully again. "There you go."

After you recover, he takes another hit. You watch him expectantly, but instead of giving the joint back to you, he shakes his head. "You're gonna wait a second." You frown. "Don't give me that look, baby."

You ignore the uncomfortable warmth settling in your chest. You barely even talk to JJ and you're already used to his never ending plethora of nicknames, but something about hearing that now, after he's been so nice and patient and so many things you never thought JJ could be...

Maybe you can blame your shift in perspective on the beginning of your high.

JJ steps back with no warning, taking another hit as he walks past you and towards the bed. He sits, sighing as he relaxes himself against the pillows. After he's settled, JJ lazily extends his arm, patting the space next to him. "Sit with me?"

You walk forward slowly, steps measured until you're standing directly in front of the bed. "Wasn't there a guy walking around earlier telling everyone to stay out of the bedrooms?"

He lifts his head just enough to look at you. "If you don't want people in your house, don't throw a house party."

Though oversimplified, a relatively fair point..and you are starting to feel tired in a way you don't understand, a bone deep drowsiness that's as heavy as it is light. You walk towards the other side of the bed before sitting next to him.

If you seem as hesitant as you feel, JJ gives no indication of noticing as he shifts, moving to sit closer to you. Before you can react to the proximity, JJ takes your hand. You let him squeeze your palm to his. "Feeling okay, princess?"

You nod, the motion oddly thought consuming. "Yeah, like--really okay." You don't realize how much you mean it until you've said it. "I think I get it now."

JJ lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. "Get what?"

He bends his leg, letting his knee press against your leg. His skin is warm in a way that reminds you of summer. You don't think twice about leaning into the feeling, relaxing your arm so that it can press against his. "A better question would be what don't I get?"

This time, he actually does laugh, the sound bright and much too enjoyable. You laugh too, if for no other reason than to have something in common with him.

"Well, since weed makes you so much nicer," he ignores your pointed glare, "You can smoke with me whenever you want as long as you promise to always call daddy JJ first."

You sit up, lifting your head slightly to look at him. "Do you really want to have just called yourself that?"

He grins shamelessly, gently pulling your hand towards his chest. "I'd rather you call me that..."

You let out a sigh, relaxing against your pillow in an attempt to dismiss the warmth settling beneath your face. "Don't--I was just starting to think you might be a tiny bit likable."

JJ groans like your words have deeply wounded him. "A tiny bit?" He presses your arm into his chest, dragging his fingertips up and down your forearm. "I thought we were better friends than that."

Friends. You frown, turning your attention towards the wall in front of you. "Well, ignoring me earlier knocked you down a few points."

His hand stills against your arm. "I wasn't--" He sighs. "I--I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me or if you were there with that guy and then I was going to--" JJ shakes his head. "I was an asshole."

It's not exactly an apology, but you'll take it. "Kinda."

He starts tracing patterns against your forearm again. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

The thought of pushing for details is tempting, but nowhere near as overwhelming as the heaviness behind your eyelids. You're leaning before you can stop yourself, you head finding JJ's shoulder. "I'm sure."

He drags his nails against your skin. "You're sleepy." It's not a question, but you're about to protest anyway. "It's okay, I'll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, the assurance is enough to get you to close your eyes.

----

i had fun writing this and kind of want to expand this dynamic so if you'd like to see a part 2 of this or anything jj related in general pls lmk !!

[nemesyaaa]

do revenge // mean!rafe cameron x camdoll!reader

summary ; you were tired and sick of the hell life the well-known kook prince give you. so after being for so long his favorite victim, you decided to fight back.

warnings : dark content. insecurities. revenge plot. bully!rafe. poker face!rafe. sick behavior and toxic attitude. smut. oral(m. receiving). dollification. blackmailing. dubcon. shitty kooks behavior. bad thoughts. quickly mentions of some kinks. self-justice. pogue/kook hate/unfair dynamic. free hate. masked reader. threatening. power imbalance. baddie attitude. minors dni. please, be careful with the warnings.

author's note : the girl on the gifs is not a faceclaim, it's only to show what kinda mask she wear. it's the first time i think i do something like that so......and it's a one-shot, so it's maybe a little too long 💀

you worked as a waitress in a small restaurant. you hated this job but you had to make money and today the place was a little empty so you thought you could relax but that was before Rafe showed up with his gang of kooks. you had started shaking as soon as you saw them. you felt so small and trapped, your breath sped up. there was like a lack of air in your lungs because you knew how rafe was with you, how much he hated you but above all, how much he loved to humiliate you. it was his favorite pleasure: being cruel to you. and damn, he knew how to hurt you better than anyone. he must have broken so many things in you, your ego, your heart, your self-esteem, your confidence, your joy of living that you wondered how you were still standing in his presence.

with a tense smile, you approached them because you also couldn't escape the group. you hugged your notepad to your chest, pressing tightly the page against your breasts. you were about to open your mouth when rafe cut you off.

“i understand better why this restaurant is so empty…” he commented, looking you up and down. “ but what i don’t get is why you haven’t been fired yet when you’re scaring customers away.”

“apparently not everyone since you're here...." that was what you wanted to answer but you preferred to kill yourself rather than make a remark to rafe that was going to cost you your life. and you wouldn't want to give him this pleasure.

“have you chosen what you want? ” you said, addressing everyone, preferring to ignore the leader of the kooks group.

“it’s so cheap here. ” he had commented. “ very cheap. ” from his insistent look, you understood that he was including you in his criticism. he was very childish.

you nervously tighten your grip on your pen. of all rafe's friends, topper seemed the most sensitive to what you were going through but he always stayed quiet. this idiot finally ordered cocktails. the words had to be ripped out of his mouth.

when you came back with the drinks, you delicately placed them on the table. you were embarrassed by the way rafe stared at you like you had something on your face, like he was planning another nasty remark. and it didn't take long, because the next minute, he had managed to make you cry and made everyone laugh.

when you handed him his glass, he purposely knocked it to the ground.

“what are you waiting for, pogue? clean it. it's not like it's new to you, you're used to cleaning up other people's shit. "

burning tears started to come out of your eyes, you bit your trembling lip. your throat was tight, and you hated everything you were feeling right now. the shame, the humiliation, the fear, it destroyed you.

you brought something to clean before bending down. he hadn't apologized. he never did it anyway. you kept all this grudge inside of you, even if it killed you.

he picked up your rag with a smirk. “you don't need that when you can use your tongue. ”

you looked at him with wide eyes, as if you had heard wrong. topper had intervened before you did. “hey dude, no need to go that far.”

“shut up, topper. i really need to show you that all women are fucking dirty and disgusting sluts. so stop protecting them, and watch the show i put on for you. and for free. ”

"rafe...listen..." you said softly.

“you better listen to me if you don't want to be fired. you know how good i am at making your life hell.” you started to kneel down, bringing your face closer to the ground. “yes, you understand very easily, maybe you can show your ass to the camera too. record it, kelce. lick it well, sweetheart. don't want to see your ugly face on the screen. “

this day was the last straw. it was worse than anything. it was completely degrading and nasty.

and it was surely at that precise moment, that night to be exact, that everything had changed in you. that you had decided that this couldn't last, that you had to play into the enemy's game to defeat him, that sometimes you had to be unfair when he cheated, that when someone was bad, you had to be tougher and stronger.

it had been several years that you had endured criticism from rafe and kooks about your physique, your pogue condition, that your face was the center of mockery and the worst jokes, that it lasted to the point that you had surely become the funniest joke or meme in the island.

but you had grown up. you had prepared your revenge over several months. because you couldn't pretend it didn't affect you. but all the hatred you had felt for yourself had started to turn towards rafe, to give you a reason to live, a purpose because he had given you a furious and crazy idea.

he had humiliated you. and he was going to taste his own medicine.

deep down, you weren't just doing this for yourself but for all the pogue girls who had suffered harassment from kook boys, for all the girls who had received bad treatment because they didn't look like princesses, for all the girls who were made to believe that they deserved nothing because they did not meet the physical standards. you had to put an end to this nonsense.

so after five months, you had become what rafe loved the most. you had become a very popular online camdoll for kooks. you wore a mask that hid your facial identity enough to not be recognized. you had a completely different style. you were surely prettier, more magnificent in his eyes. because he had fallen into the trap. he had this slightly superficial side. you knew you had succeeded from the moment you felt the difference. not only did he want you, but he wanted to possess you.

he was one of your loyal viewers. he didn't have his first name as a username but you knew it was him. his messages had the same tone as when he spoke to you.

he was pathetic, because he paid to see your content, to talk to you, to hear you touch yourself, to do dirty things to you. no matter how much you charged.

he even sent you a video of him jerking off on one of your lives. you couldn't lie, you had watched the entire video. his fist was wrapped around his painfully cock, moving up and down, the leaking tip disappearing and appearing with the speed of his thrusts, the way his boner grew bigger the more he thought of you. he was going so fast that his bulge was literally slapping against his hand with a loud, obscene noise, his sagging balls moving in rhythm. his hair was messy, there was a quiver in his lips every time he made a grunt. “ fuck...fuck...fuc'...gonna fuck that dollface one day...gonna get this dick all in your dumb pussy. ” his length was very feverish and at the same time hard, shaken with spasms. the veins pumped by his strokes. he had come in such a short time, loads of cum exploding all over his sweating chest. he had wiped everything with a pack of tissues. and just when you thought the video had come, he started again.

you never responded. only downloaded the video and stored in a confidential folder.

but one day, he spoiled you a little too much. however, you weren't doing anything really crazy. you fulfilled clients' requests — which involved masturbating with a vibrator, playing with your breasts while riding a dildo, putting as many fingers as your viewers wanted in your pussy, letting them dress you however they wanted, letting them make you crazy stupid and vulnerable, doing little shows and hauls until you end up naked, playing with the food on your body, recording your orgasms, filming you when you slept naked or took a shower.

you had decided to thank rafe for his expensive gifts by asking him to come to your house. you had a studio that you had decorated, enough to make him believe that you lived well, and that you could be a kook. obviously, he had accepted and of course, he was hoping for sex when you told him you had a surprise for him.

it was, he was going to have sex. and you a revenge.

rafe had always assumed that he hated you, the shitty, ugly pogue, that he would never sleep with you. and to quote his own words “even for a million, i could never fuck such a disgusting thing. ” and it was always in public, in front of people. then you were going to do the exact same thing. you were going to fuck with him, and if he loved show that much, he was not going to be disappointed.

on the day, you had prepared yourself for the occasion. while you were getting ready, there were tons of flashbacks in your head, scenes, words that kept coming back. all this cruelty that could make you vomit.

“i really thought alcohol would help me find you attractive but no, you're still just as ugly. i thought it was a pogue thing baby but actually it's just you. ” it was rafe.

“ i felt like i had hit you in the face ten thousand times with my golf ball. ” it was still rafe.

“the difference between you and the other pogues? is that you angel, you will never be able to hide the fact that you are one. all the misery shows on your face. ” always rafe.

and it was each time heavier, more hardcore. he reminded you of your condition, but also of how much he couldn't see you. you were too horrible. you never told anyone about this treatment, about all this hatred. but you had now learned, from the best, how to make noise.

you wiped away your tears, and brought the mask to your face. “i can do it. ” you muttered to yourself as you began to get slightly anxious. you were afraid of breaking down in the middle of the act, of finally not being sure you wanted all of this. you felt mixed feelings. was it really good to do that, was it really right? but on the one hand, what had justice done for you until now? absolutely nothing. like everyone else, she had watched you get humiliated. so it was just common sense?

the door to your studio rang. you opened it. you couldn’t lie that rafe was really handsome and smell good. but the first thing you noticed was his smile.

he was completely different. you could see in his eyes for the first time, something positive towards you.

" welcome. ” you said with a smile, inviting him inside.

oh he resisted the urge to kiss you, his hands were in his pockets but they were nervous and unsteady. they wanted to be on you.

“do you want to drink something? ” you added the name of the cocktail he always had at your restaurant. you had done it on purpose but he hadn't noticed. he nodded.

“are you going to take off your mask one day? ”

“without it, i am no longer what i am. so it's better that i keep it. isn’t that all you want me to be? a doll. ”

“no, you’re right. then at least i know you're not a fucking pogue. ”

“it would be bad for your reputation too. i already see the headlines and the taunts "rafe cameron fucks a pogue" and people will laugh at you, and you hate it being humiliated. no one likes it. ”

“you look really nice, doll. i mean, kind.” he replied.

“i am but i believe that some people. ” you pressed the word, and gave him an honest look. “have abused a lot of this part of me. that's why i'm a doll, i don't have to feel anything, just do what people want me for. you can fulfill your every desire with me. do you want to see me in a certain dress? let me change. do you want to release your anger in me? let me help you. do you just want to fuck me? i am literally made for this. ”

“you are made for me. ” you smiled through the mask because in a way, he was right. he had created your character.

“do you mind if i film? i really want to record this. you are the first customer I have met. it's special for me. ”

" no. at least people will know to who you belong. ”

“that’s exactly it. ” you lied when starting the live. “let’s get started. ”

you had removed his pants and his boxers, placing yourself between his thick tighs, he was so much bigger than you that you looked like a small caged thing.

you placed your outrageously manicured hands on his open legs, your mouth sinking and wrapping around his hard cock. your tongue had started rolling around the girth, you could feel the small drop of precum going down your throat. this part that he was soon going to get fucked strongly and hard.

you wanted to drive him crazy, see him sweat like a pig because you were so good, because you did it all too well. he had wrapped your hair in a grip to make it easier to pull on it. “yes...suck that cock...just like that...let me ruin that mouth...fuck…”

your dripping lips were stretched by the size of his length, and the way it was getting completely hard inside of you. you could feel the drool running down the sides of your mouth. you felt every inch of his penis fucking your throat. and through your mask, you saw his smirks. he pulled your hair, and you took all of him, until your face came into contact with his pelvis, every bit of him was in you. you almost gagged.

he had barely pulled out of you before he entered you again. his cock worked against your tongue, brushing it harshly, the tip tapping the back of your throat. your cheeks were sunken, and your lips drowned between spittles and saliva. “you're perfect, doll...you really know how to suck...i could really take advantage of the situation if you keep this up...” at his words, you sucked him faster, pumping efficiently while his hand stroked your hair. his fingers moved along with your head.

he was completely using you, doing whatever he wanted with you. and you let him do it, because you wanted him to be proud of himself and to be seen on camera. he had pushed his cock onto your mask, decorating it with saliva, your own currently drooling. “so pretty. ” he had commented. he pushed his cock back into your mouth without warning, taking it ever deeper. you felt fizzy. your lips were open and used for several minutes non-stop, your throat puckered and pummeled. your jaw was starting to hurt, but you didn’t show it. you had to be perfect, packaged the way he wanted. your tongue flickered around him, teasing his girth.

“ need to be inside you...so bad...you make me feel so good. it's your face, doll. you're divine.”

maybe he had a mask kink to say that, to also be turned on by a fucking plastic object. or maybe it was the face he imagined behind it all? you didn't know.

he had thrown you on the bed, opened your legs in two and pushed your body against his hips, pulling you by the waist. his cock had twitching, purring some pre-cum, at the contact with your soaked cunt.

“ i could never sleep with a pogue. but especially with you, just thinking about it makes me vomit. “ it was perfect that you remembered that in the moment, as he thrust into you, his hips moving slowly.

your pussy clenched around his cock, barely letting him move without hurting you. “ fuck, you're so fucking tight, doll....need me to stretch this pretty little cunt. i'm gonna make you so dumb. “

you couldn’t hide that you still got wet, and damn, he knew how to fuck and you couldn’t be his first time. he had started pounding into you once your pussy had started to ease around him.

it was really intense, his body slamming violently against yours, the strike echoing through the room. your weak moans but which he heard very clearly, and which encouraged him to go even further within your walls. he pushed himself even more to hear you scream. he had a goal and he wanted to make you so stupid that in the end you wouldn't be able to do anything.

he buried himself inside you, his powerful thrusts stretching your pussy, your body twitching beneath him. he was on top of you, staring into your eyes. you were a little fascinated. his shoulders were broad and muscular, his arms heavy and toned, and his abs were perfect arranged into six packs. his hair fell on his forehead.

he couldn’t see the emotions on your face, nor clearly define what you were feeling. he only had your voice and the reactions of your body.

your pussy hugged him with each strokes, he filled you completely, making his way to your spot. your puffy slit was spread, capturing his bulge. you squeezed him harder, he startly getting down, the wet and dirty sounds of his hips rocking your body. you could see the vein on his neck, his contracted muscles covered in sweat.

he had placed his lips on yours, his mouth kissing yours. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, gently guiding the kiss with your tongue.

he continued to fuck you, while playing with his tongue in your mouth, kissing you without limits, until your lips and jaws were covered in drool. you waited for him to cum inside you. but he hadn't pulled out while you were flooded, loaded with his cum, and some orgasms you'd had. it dripped from your slit onto the sheets. he had placed the tip of his cock back in front of your entrance, picking up where his enjoyment had left you off.

this time it was a little gentler. it was like you had established a little intimacy even though you knew it wasn't true. after a few minutes, he stopped.

" are you always being that kind ?…”

“ you think i'm a mean person ? ”

“ you never hurt people ? never in your life ? ” you asked him, with a friendly tone.

“ what if ? ”

“ don't freak out. everyone has a mean side. now, you got me curious. can you tell me the worst thing you have done to someone ? ”

“ maybe it was to one of that trashy pogue…” it started, and you forced yourself to not react when you saw the smile on his face. even after years, it didn't regret anything. because obviously, he talked about you.

“ thank you for confessing this story to me. now, i have a gift for you…” you said with a fakely soft voice. “ it was not the sex part. i'm willing to let you see me without my mask. i really want you to see me because i trust you. ” was obviously a lie.

“are you sure? ” he was so surprised by your proposal. “ don't you want to tell me something worse you did to someone too ? ”

“ oh, it's part of the gift, rafe . ”

at this moment, he knew. he fucking knew.

he had removed your mask.

because of the shock, he took a step back.

his face was indescribable.

“oh no, you can't pretend to be disgusted, not after fucking me like you've wanted this your whole life. ” you smiled. “what did you say before? that you could throw up? liar. you came so hard in me. and, it is still dripping. come on, don't run away, give a closer look. maybe i should make you clean the mess you made with your tongue. like you did to me. maybe, this time you will vomit. but i'm not sure, you're such a pathetic hater. and i'm just not afraid of you anymore. ”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, pogue ?! did you have fun?”

“ pogue ? ” you mocked. “ was babydoll, sweetheart, a few minutes ago. now, it's pogue ? how it feels, rafe ? how does it feel to be humiliated ? i think, it's better for you to apologize for all these years. but not only for me, for every pogue. ”

a crazy laugh escaped his lips, as he came closer to you. “ really ? what make you feel that i will apologize ? especially to you. ”

“ because now, the game is over. it's a war and i'm gonna fight back. it means, i will drag you down. every secret, every weakness, every move that you want to hide from me will be from now my first concern. i'm glad that you hate me because it's only the beginning. ”

“ you really think that you have some power over me ? be serious. ”

“ it's not about power at all. it's about justice. ”

i also wanted to thanks @bunnyrafe @rafecameroninterlude and @bimbotrashcan who helped me a lot, and trusted me for this !! tysm, i'm very grateful <333

[squiddy-god]

Hi!! I’m new so I’m not sure if there’s a character limit but could I get the baldurs gate 3 characters with a plus size gn reader?

(If there is a limit could I get Wyll, Karlach, and/or Astarion?)

Thank you!!

I added gale because i want that wizard SO BAD this is a super cute request just keep in mind that i haven't played a whole lot of baldur's gate- also there is no character limit but i think id cap it at like 7 for hcs. Maybe slight possible spoilers. Yall are so lucky i almost included karniss for funsies but held back my spider simping 

Cw : might have slightly suggestive bits but is sfw, gn reader, no pronouns, fluffy, mentions of past body shaming, 

Wyll

He's so sweet- a real gentleman at heart

He loves to rest his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms rough your waist 

After the horns tho it makes it a bit harder so he settles for holding you and resting his head on your chest 

Kinda obsessed with your hands, always kisses the back of your hands or the inside of your wrist

Hes prone to stress, so when he’s feeling particularly stressed he gets kinda clingy- he will (wyll haha) never admit that he's being clingy tho

He hugs you, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he squeezes your sides and relaxes with exhale. 

Your soft and comforting and after all the things he's been through he is in desperate need of some comfort 

I think wyll enjoys being seen as more knightly, your knight in shining armor

That being said this man can and will defend your honor, people can be so cruel and he won't stand for it, he is absolutely going to defend you when people are talking shit because he will have none of it 

Wyll is a sweet man, he wants you to be comfortable and happy with him, so he does his best to reassure you about how he loves every bit of you and tries to ease your insecurities 

Karlach 

Hrmmmmgghghggdgg love her,,,love her so much hehehehe

She loves cuddles so much and is so touch starved fight me on this 

She sees you and gets a sappy smile because she is just so mushy 

I think out of all the companions she is definitely one of the top chubby person lovers

Handsy, she loves to hold and squish every part of you, the way your chubby arms wrap around her waist and torso while she rubs your back is heaven actually

I think she would love tummy kisses, she loves them even more if you get flustered because you are cute<3 she really adores how soft you are

She likes picking you up and she absolutely can and will at every opportunity that presents itself 

She is throwing hands if someone body shames you

Like she gets the most aghast expression of “how dare they” 

Normally people just turn tail and run but she is so down to throw hands 

Being insecure with karlach is very hard because she has no issue telling you how much she loves you, and she is very honest, her words really show threw her actions 

Astarion 

I feel like astarion is someone who understands insecurity on a deep level, there are many aspects of himself that make him insecure

You have been so warm to him, you love him so genuinely he wants to return the favor by also loving you so genuinely, size doesn't matter to this man 

Ignore that last part he loves feeding on you, so much to sink his teeth into ;) like eating something warm and comforting 

“Gorgeous as always” is a regular statement he makes whenever seeing you 

Loves to hold you before bed because he can just relax and feel himself melt into you.

Astarion is very fond of squishing your cheeks, if hes happy or mad at you your cheeks are getting squashed because this vampire has a bit of cuteness aggression 

King of talk shit get bit because he is kinda just looking for a reason to have a little murder as a treat

Like he hears someone body shame you and is like “can i pleaseeeeee stab them?just a little” 

He will find them 

He won't tolerate people adding to your self doubt because he thinks you are genuinely just the most beautiful creature and he WON >:3

Gale

I WANT THIS WIZARD SO BAD 

I'm so incredibly down bad for gale he's such a dork i love him 

He's awkward honestly, he'd like to be all suave but when it comes to physical affection he is quite awkward. 

Eventually he finds peace in just being able to hold you close, he particularly enjoys being able to hold you against his chest while he reads to you

I think he would enjoy teaching you about magic (assuming you aren't also a wizard) and if you are a wizard he still enjoys reading you books about magic 

He's a sucker for just being sweet and domestic with you

Big fan of your thighs and if you are sitting in his vicinity his hand is always resting on your thigh occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze to calm you both down 

Big fan of shoulder kisses when you both first wake up

I love sassy kinda mean gale when he talks to rude people so i love the idea of him just verbally destroying someone who talks sit about you 

Hes actually pretty good about ginning you reassurance for your insecurities

He doesn't have the best way with words sometimes but he is just so flabbergasted at your thoughts because he personally wants to fuse souls lmao 

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part three

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is where it starts to get different (i hope!)

series masterlist // playlist

You saw two deaths in one day, and the games had not even started.

The local girl, who you didn't have the pleasure of learning the name of, had taken her final breaths in the arms of your mentor before he was dragged away. You hoped he was doing okay. And the girl from District Ten, Brandy. She had guts, you had to admire that about her- but killing an innocent was something you struggled to understand.

Coriolanus's classmate was only guilty of a cruel joke, and to you, that didn't warrant violence. However, the misdirected anger from your fellow tributes was valid. You just got lucky with Coryo as your mentor.

You spent your night reaching through the bars to pick weeds and flowers to place with Brandy while she slept. "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life," repeating in your mind.

"It's my fault... It was my idea to get closer to the tributes but I didn't know this would happen." Coryo says, sat at the dining room table with his cousin and Grandma'am. He was sent home as soon as he was dragged out of the zoo, and he's not sure he had a coherent walk the entire walk home.

"You're just lucky your poet didn't do the same to you. Stay away. District people are a different breed, Coriolanus."

Tigris chews on her lip next to him, her cousin's arm wrapped around her back. "She's not a rebel, grandma'am. She's just a girl."

"No, I can see it in her eyes and the way she carries herself. That one hasn't been a girl in a long time." She shakes her head disapprovingly.

"You haven't met her, she won't hurt me." Coryo insists. "She's far too... gentle, unfortunately. At least Arachne's tribute would have done well in the games."

"It doesn't matter, Coryo." Tigris states. "If that's not who she is we can't force her. What do you think a change like that would do to someone?"

"I just want her to win."

"Dean Highbottom said that she doesn't have to win for you to get the prize."

"I know that." He mutters, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "It's not about..." He stands up, pushing his hair back out of his face. "I have homework to do. Goodnight." And just like that, he's gone.

Come the morning, you were awoken from your slumber next to her no longer bleeding body by peacekeepers barging in with guns- one pointed at every last one of you. You backed away as they grabbed her, careless of her arms which you had delicately crossed, or the flowers you placed in her hair.

You were shackled alongside each other, and then forced back into the truck that delivered you to the zoo so recently.

"Don't be scared..." You whisper to the young girl on the bench next to you, watching as she cried, her pleas for answers going ignored by the others. "The world will be a better place tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Wovey sniffles, looking up at you as you reach up with tethered hands to brush her dark hair back from her face.

"Tomorrow." You nod, smiling at her sadly. You didn't know where you were going, but you doubted it meant anything good. You were supposed to have some more time before the games, but it's not impossible they would be moved in the fallout of the murders. Tomorrow, given your deaths today, would be a safer place for you both.

It wasn't a long ride before the doors were opened and you were all pulled out, and tied to a vehicle while Brandy's body was being hung above you. A parade? This was new, you were sure, you had never heard of such a thing before in the games as they were, although, no one from Twelve had ever returned to tell the story.

You were forced to walk alongside the vehicle as it moved, down an empty street and onto a much more populated one. You wondered if Coriolanus was there, until you reached your destination, and you heard his voice.

You didn't take Coriolanus Snow for a singer, but people shock you every day. There's a screen set up, and you can see him there. He looks uncomfortable, you can see in his eyes that he doesn't want to be there, but by now you've gathered that this is a funeral for his classmate; he likely wasn't given a choice.

You couldn't look at anything else happening around you. If you look at the casket in front of you, or god forbid the body hung above your head, you would burst into tears. This is what the Capitol deemed as justice for the loss of one of their young people- how did they think District people felt every year when their children were torn from them to face an eerily similar fate? The lack of empathy could make you ill. So your eyes remained locked on the blonde boy on the screen until the very end.

Coriolanus couldn't look at you. He knew you were there, all the tributes were. He took one look at you shivering under the metal that encased your wrists on bare skin, and he couldn't look back. You didn't do this to Arachne, you couldn't. Unfortunately, he's certain you wouldn't hurt a fly. To him, it felt unjust to drag you into this.

As soon as he was done and returned to his seat as chief mourner for a girl he didn't even like, he couldn't help but let his gaze track you again. You had tears in your eyes. He could see it even from a distance. You were scared, or you were saddened even by the funeral of a stranger. Your emotions were a mystery to him. You clutched your hands to your chest as you followed the car you were tied to, eyes glued to the ground at your feet as people simultaneously booed at you and cheered at the tribute hanging over your head- and he thought he was humiliated by having to sing. To be a spectacle in the Capitol was to be hated, and it was his job to make sure those same people would know you.

As soon as he was free from his duties at Arachne's funeral, he was headed back to the zoo. It took him all day, and the sun was set by the time he made it. "Y/N." He whispered, unable to see you in the dark as he approached the bars of the monkey cage. "Y/N?"

You had awoken to the footsteps, hearing your name being called in hushed tones as you sat up from where you were lying on the cold ground. You had just managed to fall asleep, Jessup had given you his sweater to use as some form of blanket as you laid your head on his stomach. You missed your bed, but body heat was helpful. You didn't think summer nights were truly this cold.

You got up, following your friend's voice over to the bars that separated you. "Coriolanus." You whisper, trying to smile. "It's late."

"Are you okay?" He asks, grabbing one of the bars in his hand and ignoring the cold burning into his palm.

"I'm just fine." You assure him. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"She wasn't my friend." He whispers back.

"Still. It was hard to watch, anyone with a heart would be hurt by what happened."

He remembers seeing you cry at the funeral, taking a sharp breath in. "Are you cold?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Only slightly." You answer. "Jessup gave me his sweater, and body heat helps."

Coriolanus squints as he looks past you, seeing the form of the boy lying on the ground, rolling onto his side now that you weren't using him as a pillow. "I brought you this." He whispers, holding up an old, torn-up afghan that he slung over the top of his book bag.

"I figured in that... dress thing you must be freezing out here. I couldn't sleep knowing you'd be out here shivering." He explains as you take it, unfolding the knitted material.

"Thank you, that's very considerate." You smile, quick to drape the small blanket over your shoulders. "Did someone make this for you? It's beautiful."

Coriolanus watches you pull it tightly around yourself, already trying to pull any warmth you can from the material. "I... I'm not sure." He says quietly. "It was a gift for my mother, it was meant for my sister."

"Well, tell your sister I say thank you. I'll get it back to you before the games."

"Oh... well, she doesn't need it." He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck to quell the goosebumps forming there. "My mother died in childbirth. Neither of them made it. So now, we've just got this blanket..."

You frown, instinctively loosening your grip on the suddenly delicate material. "I'm so sorry, Coryo. That's awful."

Coryo? The nickname falling from your lips sounds like the spoon that stirs sugar into tea- abrasive for the breakfast table, but still very sweet.

When he doesn't respond, you continue. "The distance that the dead have gone does not at first appear- their coming back seems possible for many an ardent year."

"Why do you talk like that?" He asks suddenly, eager to discuss anything other than the death of his mother.

You smile. "It's from a poem. An ancient one." You explain. "I like to read, it's all I've ever really done. My ma taught me how, gave me all these old, old books with reprints of popular stories from way back when. They just... speak to me. People back then seem to have known it all."

"I've never read anything like that." He replies.

"That surprises me." You answer honestly. "Did you know you're named after a play?" You ask, sitting down now, careful not to let the blanket touch the dirty ground.

"Am I?" He asks, sitting down across from you without thinking much of it.

"Yes." You nod. "I quoted it in my goodbye to the District. I thought that was why you came to see me."

"I had no idea." Coryo says, smile tugging at his lips. "What a coincidence."

"Pray you, who does the wolf love?" You giggle, leaning closer so he can hear you better. "The lamb."

"From?" He asks, unable to resist the urge to smile any longer.

"The Tragedy of Coriolanus."

"Why is it a tragedy?" He asks, brow furrowed.

"Well, it's about this man named Coriolanus, who gets thrust into a position of power he isn't quite suited for. It's all he can think about, he's obsessed with it. He does well, he rescues the city, but his power and pride become his downfall, and he's banished by his own people." You explain.

"Oh. He doesn't regain their favour?"

"He dies at the end, 'cause he's betrayed too many. It's sort of sad."

"Sort of?" Coryo chuckles quietly. "He did so much for his people, is his death not a great loss?"

"His death is meant to be a justice for his actions, but I disagree." You whisper. "I think he was too far gone to be changed, yes, but I think if things had gone differently for him he would have made some better choices."

"Maybe." Coryo agrees. "But with a tragedy, doesn't that mean it was always meant to end that way?"

"People say that." You reply. "But I think the aspect of human nature has been lost in it. I think people can always change. Usually, it's circumstance that changes people into villains, so I think it could change them into heroes too. How do you know so much about tragedies if you've never heard of Shakespeare?"

"There's others, more modern stuff that they teach us here. No one likes to talk about history before Panem." Coryo answers. "But I agree. I think the idea of destiny is embellished, in some ways."

You hum in agreement, looking up at the sky. "There's not as many stars here."

"No?" He asks, taking a break from looking at you to look up as well. He's never known anything different than the very few stars they get, even on a clear night.

"No." You shake your head. "Back home, if you look up at night you couldn't count the stars if you were given a month to do it and a pencil to track it all down. There are thousands."

"Sounds nice." He whispers.

"It is." You agree, voice catching. You'll never go home and see the stars again, this is the best you would get for the rest of your life. You didn't realize the last time you saw the stars light up the sky that you never would again. You wish you had appreciated it more. You let out a shaky breath, deciding to look instead at your lap. There was no use in hurting your feelings anymore.

At the sound of your unsteady exhale, Coryo snaps his eyes back to you. He realizes at just about the same time you did what you were thinking about. "I'm sorry." He says after a few moments of silence, unsure what else he could say.

You just nod, reaching up to wipe your eyes. "I'll just miss it. I didn't realize until now that I won't get to see it again."

"You might." He tries to be encouraging, but the odds of you surviving are slim and he knows that. "I'll do everything I can to help you. I want you to get home."

"You would love it." You say, ignoring his sentiment because you know if you acknowledge it you'll start bawling. "There's a big open field by my house, when I was younger my ma would take us out there with a blanket in the middle of the night and we would lay down and look at the stars."

Coryo is quiet, just nodding as he listens to your story. "Sometimes my cousin and I sit on the roof of our apartment at night. We'll just sit out there and talk for hours, it's the best part of my day when we both get the chance." He tries to relate to you, he really does, but he knows that he could leave whenever he wanted and go sit with Tigris on the roof tonight. You don't have that privilege.

"You live together?" You ask, sniffling.

"Yeah. It's just us and our Grandma'am."

"That sounds nice." You smile sadly. "What's her name?"

"My cousin? Tigris."

"Tigris." You roll the name around in your mouth. "Will you tell me about her?"

"Well, she graduated a couple of years ago. She wants to be a designer, but there's not much of a market for that these days, so she works under someone else. Her boss is just awful to her, but Tigris gives it all she's got. She's got a real talent for it."

You lean forward against the bars as he speaks, resting your forehead on the cold metal and letting your eyes close. "I'm sure she's amazing."

"She is. She took this old shirt of my father's, completely remade it for me to wear to the reaping like nothing had ever been wrong with it in the first place. She even used the tiles in our bathroom to make these tiny buttons for it. It's really impressive. I think one day when I'm president, I'll get her a better job. If she even wants to work. She's been working for as long as I can remember to take care of me, I hope to return the favour one day."

"That's very kind of you." You yawn. "She sounds lovely. I wish I could have the pleasure of meeting her one day."

"If she's free, I'll bring her to say hello." He smiles, noticing you're already half asleep. The urge to reach forward, just a little, and push your hair away from where it has fallen in your face is near impossible to resist. Instead, he keeps talking. "She would love to meet you too, I know it. You are pretty much all we talk about these days."

"Me? Why's that?"

"You're just... unlike anyone I've ever met. Better, I suppose." He whispers. "And you're really important to me. I hope you understand that."

"I don't have to win for you to get your prize, right?" You ask quietly.

"No." He replies. "But I really hope you do. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'd like to see you when you're not a monkey in a cage. As yourself."

You smile, cheeks flushing under the mask of the darkness that surrounds you. "Come, gentle night, come, loving black-browed night, give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars." You whisper, so quietly to yourself he's not even sure he heard every last word, but god, did he long to. Only so many quotes and poems and words of your own would have the gift of leaving your lips. Your words were numbered- and as he could, he would cherish every one.

"What's that from?" He asks, leaning closer.

"Romeo and Juliet." You yawn. "That's my favourite. One day, you should read it."

"I will." He promises. And he'll think the whole time of you.

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!