#side note: i do hope we eventually get heavy's last name

[evil-gadgeteer]

stupid dumb headcanon:

medic MOSTLY goes by his surname, to the point where he's had long time friends who think his name is ludwig (since it can be both a first and last name)

i also like to think a few of the mercs (after finding out his name) call him herb (i could also imagine a few still call him doc). herbie is reserved for partners.

[moonlightrafe]

Out Of The Woods

summary: The war is over and Rhaenyra’s daughter gets a fresh start in The North.

pairing: Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, grief, RIP Jace <\3

note: Sooo……. It appears that I’m in Cregan Simp Mode

It is a brighter day than usual when your labors start. The sun even begins to peak behind the clouds, casting a gorgeous gleam over Winterfell. It has been six months since the civil war between your family has ended and it seems as though the smoke-like grief that clouds your mind is finally beginning to clear. After all of your pain and suffering, you are now far away from Dragonstone and even farther away from King’s Landing. As your younger brother sits the Iron Throne, you have a hope for a peaceful realm. As well as hope that you and Cregan will finally be able to start anew.

Things are different in Winterfell, especially now that the dance has ended. There is no pressure for your babe to have silver hair or violet eyes. No pressure for it to be born with a cock. All that matters is that the babe is healthy. Your child will not suffer the same hardships as you and your siblings once did.

You can hear heavy footsteps outside of the chamber as Cregan paces restlessly. While you endure another hour of labor, you try to keep your mind elsewhere. Your gaze is fixed on the flicker of the candle that sits in the chandelier above your head.

One of your earlier memories is your mother being in labor with Joffrey. You remember wincing at her screams and placing judgement on the names she called her midwives. Now you don’t blame her. You even admire her for going through this so many times. You miss her terribly.

Your hand grips tightly onto the wooden headboard as you try your hardest to listen to the instructions of your midwife.

“Push into the pain,” she advises you, “when the pain is at its worst, that’s when you will want to push the hardest, my lady.”

Your knees are at your chest, a thin layer of sweat covers your entire body, and your once white nightgown is now stained red. You inhale deeply as you brace yourself for another painful contraction.

And just like that, it’s happening again. It begins as a dull ache in your spine that eventually overtakes you completely. It feels as if you were being torn to shreds. Your muscles begin to spasm and each wave of pain is worse than the last.

A particularly loud scream echoes out into the hallway and it has Cregan bursting through the door into the room, his auburn brows furrowed.

“This is not the place for men, my Lord,” your midwife sternly warns him.

“I do not care! What’s happened?”

“Nothing!” you bark at him, your teeth gritted. This is a pain he is unable to comprehend.

“I’m fine, we’re fine. It just hurts. That’s all.”

Cregan frowns at you as he comes to stand at your side.

“My lord—” your midwife tries to interject once again.

“I’m staying.”

He keeps true to his word and remains at your side for the rest of your labor, despite your midwife’s wishes — earning him many dirty looks.

Another painful contraction comes and the pain is mind blowing. But it seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. You bring your chin down to your chest and push with all of your might. You push as if your life depends on it, because it does.

“That’s it, my lady! Perfect. I can see the babe already, a full head of hair,” she states.

Just when you swear you cannot push anymore, you feel sudden relief and loud cries fill the room.

“It’s a boy,” your midwife declares, and Cregan squeezes onto your hand tightly.

“And he is one healthy pup! With quite the set of lungs!” she adds.

About an hour later, once you are moved from the birthing bed and all cleaned up, you sit in your large bed that you and Cregan share. Your babe is cozily bundled up and suckling at your breast, his tiny gums gnawing at your flesh.

“Do we have a name for him?” Cregan asks you as he comes to take solace beside you, peering down at the tiny babe.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” you reply, your mind still hazy, your heart full, “did you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking… he holds a striking resemblance to your brother. What do you think?”

You glance down at your newborn son. An angelic face matched with tiny wisps of dark hair that threaten to grow into a thick head of curls.

“Oh,” you coo, “yeah… yeah, he does, doesn’t he?”

Cregan smiles widely at you, in a way that makes your heart want to burst right out of your chest.

You and Cregan both held great love for Jacaerys. It was something you bonded over when you were first getting to know one another. After spending so much time with him at the beginning of the dance, Cregan began to care for Jace as if he was a brother of his own.

“So it’s settled then,” he states with pride, “we’ll call him Jacaerys.”

“Jacaerys,” you breathe out in agreement as your husband places as gentle kiss on your forehead.

[popamolly]

‘ DANCE WITH THE DEVIL ’ ALASTOR

summary. a bit heartbroken by last night’s events, you tried to move forward and entertain more suitors, a string still pulling on your heart since it was hard to forget alastor.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, eventual smut, mature themes, age gap! youre 20 while alastor is in his early 30s, alastor is a serial killer, alastor stalks you, dark romance, angst, gore, death, blood kink, not a happy ending

author’s note. thank you for all the love this story is getting!

The next morning arrived with the sunlight streaming through the window and painting the room in a soft warm glow. You stirred awake from a restless sleep, the events of the previous night hung heavy in the air but before you could get lost in your thoughts a gentle knock on the door interrupted your thoughts, and your mother entered with a tray of your favorite breakfast.

"Good morning," she greeted sharply, setting the tray on the bedside table.

The atmosphere in the room felt charged with tension and you felt as though if you made a sudden move you might die from the suffocation of it all. Your mother's stern expression hinted at the lingering disapproval from the night before. As she sat down, her eyes bore into yours, her words measured and direct.

"I hope you've had a chance to reflect on your behavior last night. Venturing into such places is unbecoming of a lady, especially a Duvalier, I will not have you tarnishing your father's name." she chided, her tone laced with disapproval.

Your attempts to explain were met with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Enough. We won't dwell on the mistakes of yesterday. However, I must insist that you put this Alastor nonsense out of your mind."

The mention of Alastor brought a rush of emotions that you had to swallow down. Now your mother’s instructions became more of a command rather than a suggestion. Though when have her words ever been a suggestion.

"Forget about him, my dear. You need to focus on the suitors who are genuinely interested in you. Now, get dressed. We have guests arriving and you must present yourself with grace and composure," she instructed sharply.

The weight of your mother's insistence felt like shackles but you complied, suppressing your emotions. As you prepared for the day, the memories of the jazz club and Alastor were pushed to the back of your mind, replaced by the formalities and expectations you were to upheld.

The morning, which had begun with the soft glow of sunlight, now unfolded in a harsh contrast. As you descended the grand staircase to meet the suitors, a silent determination set in.

The night before had been replaced by the reality of the courting season, and in this world of scripted dances and polished conversations, the echoes of the jazz club was nothing but a forbidden memory.

"And your favorite hobby?" The man next to you asked as you both walked along the side of the riverbank with your mother in tow behind you as a chaperone.

"Cooking, sewing, cleaning..." You listed everything your mother practiced you to say since you were sixteen with a bored expression, "It's hard to choose really. Especially when my new hobby would be doing all those things and taking care of man who can't take care of himself."

The gentleman's expression shifted from mild curiosity to genuine offense as your response veered off the expected path for traditional domestic roles. He struggled to conceal his surprise, his facial features contorting into disbelief.

"Taking care of a man who can't take care of himself?" he repeated, his tone carrying a touch of annoyance. "Well, I must say, I wasn't expecting such... candidness. A woman's role is to support and enhance her husband's life, not to suggest he's incapable."

Your mother, who had been following as a discreet chaperone, discreetly cleared her throat, offering a subtle reminder of the expected decorum during such conversations. The gentleman, however, appeared unamused by your deviation from the conventional script.

"I believe in partnership and mutual support," you continued, maintaining your composure despite the tension in the air. "In my view, a successful marriage is built on shared responsibilities and understanding, don't you think so? Or is your brain too small minded?"

The gentleman's offense transformed into outright displeasure, and his face reddened with anger. He took a step back, as if distancing himself from the perceived audacity of your words.

"I never expected such impertinence," he huffed, his voice dripping with disdain before turning to your mother. "If this is the kind of woman your daughter has become, madam, perhaps a lesson in decorum is in order."

Your mother, taken aback by the abrupt turn of events, attempted to diffuse the tension. "I assure you, she is a capable and respectful young woman."

The gentleman scoffed, "Respectful? A woman's place is to support her husband, not challenge societal norms. If you want to see your daughter married perhaps you should tape her mouth first."

With those final words, he turned on his heel, storming off along the riverbank, leaving an air of tension in his wake. Your mother, left momentarily speechless, could only watch as he disappeared from view.

Your mother, though caught off guard by the gentleman's departure, turned her attention towards you with a stern expression, the air thick with disapproval.

"I cannot believe you would speak so boldly, especially to such a promising young man. Do you even know who his father is?" she scolded, her voice low. "You'd be lucky if he doesn't spread a rumor about you and your outspoken views, who will marry you then?"

You bit your lip, a mix of frustration and defiance bubbling within you. The stifling expectations of the season seemed to constrict, and the encounter had exposed the deep-seated clash between tradition and your desire for an equal partnership.

"But Mother, I only spoke the truth. I want a marriage built on partnership," you argued, your voice carrying a hint of rebellion, "I want love."

Your mother's gaze remained unwavering, and she sighed in exasperation. "Love? My dearest child, it was one night of sweet nothings you must forget that man. You must understand that your words have consequences, and you must learn to navigate these social situations with more finesse."

The scolding continued, a lecture on the importance of being a mere trophy without thoughts. As the words from your mother lingered, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment. The courting season proved to be more of a challenge than you had anticipated.

The journey back home was quiet, the echoes of the encounters with potential suitors lingering in the air. Your grand estate, once a symbol of opulence and refinement, now felt like a gilded cage . A cage that you unfortunately had to be stuck in for the rest of your life.

As you and your mother entered the stately home, servants helped you take your coats off at the door. Tonight had only proved that the majority of suitors were mostly ignorant and entitled. Men who expected the traditional gender roles only stifled your desire for a more equal partnership.

You follow your mother into drawing-room where tea awaited, sitting down on one of the elegant couches after pouring yourself a cup. You mentally prepared yourself as your mother sat across from you, dropping two sugar cubes into her own teacup with a discerning gaze, ready address the events of the afternoon.

"Do you understand that I want only the best for you? It is hard but you must find content with your situation, as I did. The suitors today were from respected families, and their opinions carry weight in our social circles," she advised, her tone a mix of caution and motherly concern, "Don't be foolish to throw this all way because you want a fairytale marriage."

You sighed, feeling her slowly start to crush your spirit. "Mother, I cannot fake enthusiasm for these men. I want a marriage based on love and mutual respect, is that so bad?"

Your mother's expression hardened, a sign of her struggle between the desire for your happiness and keeping your father's legacy alive. "The world we live in demands certain sacrifices for the sake of reputation."

The conversation continued, a delicate dance between generations, aspirations, and tradition. The walls of the grand estate seemed to close in, threatening suffocate every ounce of a dream you had left.

"We will talk more about this later, now go and freshen up for dinner." Your mother turns from you to get the daily mail that sat onto a silver plater one of our servants held. Her thoughts now occupied with whatever was in those letters addressed to her.

The mention of dinner provided you temporary relief, a chance to gather your thoughts in the privacy of your room.

As you reached the upper landing and walked down the corridor towards your room, a familiar sense of fatigue settled in. The idea of facing another evening filled with polite conversation and forced smiles only wished to drain you more than you already were. With a sigh, you opened the door to your room, hoping to somehow muster enough strength to make through dinner with your mother.

Upon entering, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun. The space offered little comfort compared to the storm brewing within your mind. You moved towards the patio doors, intending to draw the heavy curtains and shut out the world for a brief moment.

However, as you approached the doors, a gasp caught in your throat. There, at the patio, stood Alastor, his tan skin bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. He held a bouquet of flowers in hand, with that grin that would be bone-chilling if you were in another world.

Had he climbed up to your patio? Your heart skipped a beat, startled by his unexpected presence. Alastor turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the electrifying encounter at the jazz club.

"Forgive the intrusion," Alastor spoke, a charming smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you again, (Y/N).”

You found yourself at a loss for words, the sight of him standing there, outside your room, both thrilling and a little scary. The flowers he held seemed to highlight the spontaneity of the night that had captured your heart.

As you stood there, Alastor's gaze held a question, an unspoken invitation to step into the realm of the unexpected once more. You couldn’t, you thought, you shouldn’t. The decision lay before you – to embrace the conventional path or to follow the allure of something more unpredictable and genuine.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you at the sight of Alastor. The initial surprise and excitement gradually gave way to a simmering anger that had lingered since the day before. Memories of his sudden departure, leaving you alone in the crowd, resurfaced to only fuel the flames of anger.

You composed yourself, maintaining a veneer of poise, as you faced Alastor at the patio doors. "Alastor," you greeted, your tone betraying a subtle undercurrent of tension.

He smiled, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface. "I hoped to catch you before dinner. These are for you, my dear," he said, extending the bouquet of flowers towards you.

You accepted the flowers with a forced smile, your gaze sharpening as you met his eyes. "How kind of you. But if this is your way of an apology for leaving me the night before then you are not forgiven," you remarked, your words laced with a hint of reproach.

Alastor's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of remorse crossing his features. "I apologize if my departure caused you any distress. It wasn't my intention."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration at his nonchalant response. "Intentions or not, it was thoughtless. All this is challenging enough without being abandoned in the middle of a crowded club."

Alastor's gaze dropped ever so slightly, "You're right, and I regret not explaining myself that night." The man before you was unable to meet your eyes, "Something came up and I had to tend to it right away, I had hoped to invite you to dinner to properly apologize."

"Dinner?" You looked back at the clock hanging from your wall, knowing that your mother was expecting you in less than an hour to join her, "I can't tonight."

"Tomorrow then?" Alastor persisted, his eyes searching for a glimpse of agreement.

"Tomorrow." you agreed, the magnetic charm that surrounded him softening your resolve. A sense of anticipation lingered, a silent acknowledgment of the romance weaving through the conversation.

As Alastor pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles, a shiver ran down your spine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. His gesture, reminiscent of the forbidden knight in shining armor that came to save your dress that fateful day.

"I will see you tomorrow," you responded, your words breathless, caught in the enchantment of the moment. The courtyard, bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, transformed into a canvas for the unfolding romance between you two. Was this foolish yes? But when you are smitten and swooped off your feet by the person who you think could be the one, it didn’t seem so foolish. Everything surrounding Alastor made perfect sense even when nothing about him made sense at all.

"I can't wait to reveal to you my world, my dear," Alastor's voice carried a mysterious undertone, his words dancing on the edge of menacing. Unbeknownst to you, the promise held a duality, a blend of charm and an underlying darkness that eluded your naive perception.

As Alastor departed, leaving you in the fading light of the terrance, the echoes of his words lingered. The anticipation of the mysterious dinner date took root in your heart, overshadowed by the allure of a world yet to be unveiled. Little did you know, that this romantic endeavor concealed layers of foreshadowing pain and death.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

TAGLIST: @queenmizuki @sirens-and-moonflowers @poppingaround @happytacojudgepalace @mo-0-o @harmfulb1tch @tiredkiwiii @moody-mod @themoonitselff @darifes @whocaresimnothere @boogiemansbitch

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Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

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

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

word count: 13.7k

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

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

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

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

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the fuck are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

--

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

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

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

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

“tryna get the remote.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

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

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

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

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

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what about me and jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…a baseball bat?”

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

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

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

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

--

MONDAY, NOV 6

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

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

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

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

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so damn corny.”

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

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

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

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

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

“you think i have a list?”

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

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

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

--

TUESDAY, NOV 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

SUNDAY, NOV 12

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

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

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

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

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

“is it finished?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

“y/n…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

FRIDAY, NOV 17

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

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

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

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

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

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

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

“y/n—” camille starts.

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

“what?”

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

“blood?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

LYING IN WAIT...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

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

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

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

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ohwormwood]

breaking down over in stars and time's use of tarot cards

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

[no seriously, this contains spoilers for the entire game. proceed with caution]

BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO BE TORMENTED BY THIS KNOWLEDGE, THEN SO DO YOU.

Act 2

Six of Swords

Transition, change, rite of passage, releasing baggage

Siffrin is, in the start of Act 2, beginning a new journey. This card is pretty self explanatory, but also is a form of major foreshadowing. Six of Swords has a heavy implication towards evolving and bettering yourself as a person, going on a journey that is absolutely essential to growth. Whether or not this journey is at all pleasant is entirely left up in the air, but given the rest of the game, it’s more of an indication of hard-won lessons.

Siffrin asks “How does the boat not sink?”, which is kind of hilarious, given that they end up almost sinking into complete despair by the end of the game, only saved by getting help and changing, completing their journey and starting a new one.

The Star (Reversed)

Lack of faith, despair, self-trust, disconnection

Stars play a huge part in this game (it’s literally in the name), so this card felt kind of inevitable. The most important part of this card is that it serves as a sort of omen for what is to come. In Act 2, Siffrin is blissfully unaware of the overall impact this will have on his psyche, of the turmoil it will bring him. But the most important part of this card for me is the idea of loss of faith. The very first line in the reference site’s description is this; “The Star Reversed can mean that you’ve lost faith and hope in the Universe”. This is likely indicative of the gradual crumbling of Siffrin’s hope over the course of the game. The site also notes that “You may be desperately calling out to the Universe to give you some reprieve but struggling to see how the Divine is on your side”. Siffrin pretty much does this in the latter half of Act 3, as things become more and more hopeless. This is, for lack of a better term, a test of faith. Given how the Change God mocks Siffrin for the Universe never talking to them directly, this is nailed home pretty hard. But, in Act 2, a lot of the concept of The Universe and Wishcraft isn’t introduced, so this serves more as a premonition than anything else.

Another note: Loop. Loop is a star. Or ate a star. Either way, they have a deep connection with stars (and The Universe as a result). I bring this up because of the general meaning behind the UPRIGHT version of this card, which is a sign of hope, faith, and guidance. Loop serves this purpose throughout the game as Siffrin’s “helpful companion~”, so the connection here there is nice. But the entry states this; “When confronted with a challenging situation, you can either crumble like The Tower or stand firm in your conviction that the Divine is everywhere”. Because of the 2 Hats situation, we know that where Siffrin eventually overcame the challenges of The Star/The Universe, Loop did not. Instead, they made one last plea to the Universe for help, and The Universe listened. But we know the obvious twist of fate here is that Loop is literally helping themself by helping Siffrin. They gave in, crumbled, and lost their faith in the end, only to be the thing that helped Siffrin keep theirs and eventually free themselves. 

Ace of Wands 

Inspiration, new opportunities, growth, potential

Most of Act 2 Siffrin is spent with this idea in mind. At this point, Siffrin is pretty lax about the true meaning of the loops, believing them to be an opportunity to beat the king, each loop full of potential to achieve their goal. But the twist here is that for the Ace of Wands, there is always potential but never a guarantee of success. Siffrin experiences this first hand at the end of Act 2. 

Eight of Pentacles

Apprenticeship, repetitive tasks, mastery, skill development

Another nod to Siffrin’s frame of mind in Act 2. The slow mastery gained through the overall leveling system in the game actually accomplishes this card’s meaning pretty well- you repeat everything, over and over, and it is only when you master it that you are able to defeat the king. Siffrin notes a lot that in a couple of loops, he will likely be able to remember interactions by heart, and some he actually does recall completely, like when the very first interaction with Mirabelle in Dormont at the start of each loop. He’s essentially memorized the script, mastered the actions, the choreography, and now is faced with the fact that he has to do it over and over again. It will turn into monotony by proxy of being so familiar and easy. 

Siffrin also notes that “they seem happy to be working”, which is another nod to how he sees the loops towards the start of the game, less of a curse and more of a boon that requires effort to properly utilize.

Act 3

Two of Swords

Difficult decisions, weighing up options, an impasse, avoidance

There are a lot of hard choices to be made in Act 3, so this likely isn’t referring to any one instance. This is where the Eight of Pentacles card comes back into play, in a sense- there is still more to learn here, more to master, but a lot of that requires decisions that have greater weight than those in Act 2. People’s lives are at stake. However, it is only by doing this and making hard choices that Siffrin eventually learns more about Wishcraft and the way things work in the loops. 

Interestingly, when Siffrin describes this card, they describe someone holding scissors. An intersection of 2 blades, but the thing here is that no matter which side you’re on, they can still cut you. Alternatively, this could just be a representation that Siffrin, who is the main Scissors Craft user of the party, is the one stuck with these decisions. 

Six of Pentacles (Reversed)

Self-care, unpaid debts, one-sided charity

Siffrin is the king of never giving themself proper self care. They are also the king of tearing themselves apart to give everything they have to the party. They are willing to sacrifice everything they have for a “perfect ending” where everyone is happy… everyone but themselves, that is, because they do not receive the same fulfillment in return. They give and they give and they give, but the party does not give in return, not in the way they need. Not soon enough to prevent them from falling apart at the seams over it. 

The note here mentions that it shows “someone walking on the sky and offering flowers to sky people��, but then when flipped shows “the man is touching the ground, and giving flowers to normal people”. This kind of struck me as strange, as no matter what orientation the card takes, they will always have their feet on the ground. This also isn’t the last mention of sky people, but I haven’t really delved deep enough into theories about that to understand what that really means in the context of this card.

The Hermit

Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance

Hilariously, this is something Siffrin completely lacks for most of the game. They avoid thinking about themselves and their own sense of self for a vast majority of their character arc, and it isolates them. While this card means well in its message of introspection, it’s also key to note that this withdrawal from the outside also can lead to being alone with your own thoughts, something that Siffrin experiences more as the game continues. And their refusal to acknowledge what they want almost breaks them. 

The loneliness aspect of this card is further hammered home by the fact that Siffrin says “they look sad and alone”.

Five of Wands

Conflict, disagreements, competition, tension, diversity

Misunderstandings and miscommunication is at the heart of this card. And oh boy, does Siffrin deal with a LOT of that in the loops. My brain immediately goes to the whole “touch therapy” arc and Siffrin’s refusal to clarify that they don’t dislike touch, which eventually leads to Memory of Touch. It’s also a bit of foreshadowing of what is to come, especially in Act 5 and the breakdown of the party’s trust in Siffrin because of their break in communication and understanding with each other. 

Siffrin asks “Why are they fighting?” when this card is drawn. The answer is that they don’t really understand themselves. This is conflict driven by a lack of communication and understanding of the other parties at hand. As the description for this card says, “No one is listening.”.

Act 4

Eight of Swords

Negative thoughts, self-imposed restriction, imprisonment, victim mentality

Act 4 starts with Siffrin experiencing quite possibly one of the worst endings to the loops he can imagine, so it’s safe to say that at this point, their deterioration is rapidly worsening. They begin to spiral, and the idea that there is no way out begins to appear. However, the main crux of this card’s significance is that there is a way out, but it lies in freeing oneself. There is a gap in the swords, and if one was to take off the blindfold they could get out. The description of this card calls this “imprisonment”, which ties in pretty nicely to one of the screens you can get when you loop back; “You are in a prison of your own making”. The description for the card also reads “You surrendered your power to an external entity, allowing yourself to become trapped and limited in some way. You may feel that it isn’t your fault – you have been placed here against your will”. This is heavy foreshadowing for the idea that Siffrin’s own wish to The Universe that got them trapped in the loops, not the wishes of The House or The King. 

Siffrin asks “Why is he alone?” when drawing this card, which kind of projects onto themselves. They feel alone, they feel trapped, and they believe that there is no one who can help them, but that isn’t true. They have the ability to change things, but they are afraid. 

Ten of Swords (Reversed)

Recovery, regeneration, resisting an inevitable end

There are good aspects to this card, but the main focus in this case is likely the idea of resisting the inevitable. This is pretty much what the whole deal with the Head Housemaiden is, the repeated attempts to find some way to change something that, by the nature of the wish, cannot be changed. And yet, Siffrin is unable to let go of this. It’s also noted that this card represents past trauma that is still being carried around and still hurts the bearer. Siffrin spends this Act searching into their past, tearing up painful memories (or lack thereof) in the process. They carry the burden of being without a true geographical/cultural home to go back to. They cannot let go of this, nor do they want to. But the card’s description notes that “these old pains need to be dealt with once and for all. It may be difficult to delve back in, but it's the only way to release yourself of this pain and allow it to pass from your life”. In a lot of ways, this nods to the avoidance of pain that Siffrin displays when they are unable to cope with their trauma from the past and the loops. It is only through promising to tell the party their wish and deal with the pain and fear of their trauma that they can move on and begin to heal. This card pretty much represents the whole crux of the story’s meaning. 

Five of Pentacles

Financial loss, poverty, lack mindset, isolation, worry

Loss is a major theme of Act 5. The loss of memories, the loss of a home, the loss of faith, and, perhaps most importantly, the loss of hope. The card’s description says “You no longer feel safe because it has all been stripped away from you in one blow”, and this is pretty much what happens. Siffrin is in a crisis. They are exhausted, they are alone, and they are profoundly terrified of what that means. At this point, they are searching for help desperately, but are unable to ask for it. This card explicitly deals with fear of rejection and reaching out for help- the situation is dire, but, as seen with the card’s depiction of lit church windows, there is help nearby. The issue is that one must be willing to accept it. There is fear that you may lose something important- in Siffrin’s case, his found family- but there is no telling if that will actually come to pass. 

To further nail the loneliness aspect of this card home, Siffrin says that the figures on the card “probably don't have any friends”, something he starts to believe in the latter loops as the group loses their identities to the script. The in-game card also is different from the real card, and is said to show empty glasses, a pretty on-the-nose reference to Siffrin’s “glass half empty” mentality as they lose hope later in the game.

The Hanged Man

Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives

The Hanged Man gets a pretty bad reputation if you don’t really understand what it means. It’s a card about acceptance, pausing, and entering a new phase in life. But this change is heavily implied to come via unfavorable circumstances, situations outside of one’s control. The description says that when a person is unable to pause when they need to, unable to stop their actions, “The Universe will probably put things on hold for you, in the form of continued obstacles, ill-health, and breakdowns”. And this is pretty much what happens in Act 5. Siffrin is ground to a screeching halt by their own body, exhausted, starving, and mentally/physically fatigued to the point of actual sickness. On the topic of “surrender” and “giving in”, things get more pointed. Siffrin gives in to Mal Du Pays (very ‘L'appel du Vide” style), almost dying as a result, but then conversely gives in to the party’s urges to tell them what they wished for, to let go of their fear and stop looping. 

Siffrin notes that the Hanged Man “Look(s) like they're about to die, but they're smiling”. This is more of a connection to the end decision of Siffrin to let go of the loops and tell the party about their fears. They are facing down something that they are terrified of, something seemingly insurmountable, but rather than continue to fight and avoid letting go like Loop did, he instead chooses to surrender and tell the party.

Act 5/6

The Fool 

Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit

There are two versions of The Fool, technically. In Act 5, if you take the card and inspect it immediately, Siffrin will give a manic laugh and tear it to pieces. In a lot of initial interpretations of the card, some people will assume The Fool to be what the card says they are- a fool, someone stupid and tricked and hopeless, about to send themselves to their doom. But the reality is that this card is not really about that- it’s about new beginnings and the start of a new journey, but specifically through a leap of faith- a leap of faith that Siffrin has to take at the end of Act 5. While he is going through The House during this act, however, he is unwilling to accept this advice, either because it is misinterpreted or consciously, and instead tears it apart.

When the card is examined after the game, rather than during the final loop, Siffrin seems to recognize the card for what it actually means. He says “It's a traveler. He seems to be starting a new journey”. Siffrin’s title in the Profiles is literally “The Traveler” (alongside having the Traveler’s Hat), so this is a direct statement of new beginnings for the party and Siffrin’s life, a new journey they are taking with their family rather than alone. 

-

annnnd that does it for me, i've spent no less than two hours writing and researching for this post so ima go take a nap now, gnight

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 13

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of known death eaters from one of the richest and oldest wizarding family. Are you prepared to abandon everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: character deaths, parental neglect, mentions of mental/physical/emotional abuse, potential self harm references

Note: an update?? who saw this coming? definitely not me! i know i disappeared for a very long time, i have no excuse i just hope you can accept my apology

i also was kind of procrastinating this chap for so long bc of the heavy themes in this, i just knew this wasn't going to be an easy one to write... (i was right) but anyway i added some fluff to hopefully balance it out so we'll see lol

anyway thanks so much for your patience, i hope you enjoy this one!

also one last thing, thanks for all the love shown on the previous chapters, sorry if i hadn't gotten around to replying to your comment yet but i do appreciate all of u !!

Taglist:@gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karsonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic

(pics are not mine)

As you approach Malfoy Manor you find it increasingly difficult to catch your breath. 

You were foolish to assume you wouldn't eventually get caught. 

You fleetingly consider grabbing Hermione and disapparating, but Greyback's firm grip on your arm prevents you from even attempting to reach for her.

The gates of the manor come into view, and you try to pry your arm away again. A last ditch effort, but it is no use. 

The man forcefully holds you in place and you have no choice but to stand in front of the gate.

 You make eye contact with Bellatrix as she approaches from the other side, her gaze then shifts to a disfigured Harry to your left, before landing her attention back to you.

A maniacal smile flashes across her face, as if she found the display before her truly amusing, and you have to fight the urge to cower.

"Get Draco." 

════════════════════════════════════════════

You stood in the foyer in front of your parents. An involuntary thrill travels down your spine as you study their expressions. You cannot recall the last time you have seen either of them this furious. 

"So this is what you have been doing all this time?" Your mother exclaims, gesturing to Hermione and you have to avert your eyes.

Your silence only further infuriates your parents. 

You cannot help but feel a sense of embarrassment, being apprehended like a child in front of the other Death Eaters, Harry, Ron, and worst of all, Hermione.

"Have you absolutely no regard for your mother or I?" Your father finally speaks, his voice vibrating with anger.

"We have given you everything. Do you have any idea what we had to sacrifice just to raise you? Your mother and I have provided you nothing but the best." Your father raises his voice, it is sudden enough that it causes you to wince.

"This is how you repay us?" He continues.

"Do you have any idea the shame you have brought upon my name? Upon our entire family?" Your father steps closer but you keep your gaze fixed to the ground.

"I'm sorry." All you could afford to utter.

You hate how you feel in this moment, powerless and meek, only wishing for the ground to swallow you whole, so you never have to face any of the people in this room ever again.

You can feel Hermione's worried stare, but you cannot bear to look at her.

"We have warned you time and time again to end your relations with her." Your mother hisses, gesturing to your girlfriend.

You finally lift your head but your mother harshly grabs your forearm to pull you aside.

"Don't you dare look at her, y/n." She scolds, pure vitriol.

"You must think us fools. Is this all just a game to you?" Your mother taunts but you choose to remain silent.

An effort to de-escalate but it results in the opposite effect as you catch your mother fishing her wand out of her pocket.

"We have given you more than enough chances. More than you deserve." She states, pushing past you, storming directly towards Hermione.

A flicker of fear appears on your girlfriend's face. One you mirror, just as you realize what your mother intended to do.

Hermione tries to retreat, only to bump into Scabior, purposely standing behind her to cease her attempt at fleeing.

"It is time you suffer the consequences of your own actions." Your mother takes a fleeting glance at you before lifting her wand to point it at your girlfriend.

Taking large strides, you manage to put yourself in between Hermione and your mother, just before she gets the chance to utter the spell. You feel your girlfriend's firm grip on your arm as you continued to shield her with your body.

"No! Mother, please, don't." You plead, holding up your hand and she hesitates.

"I am sorry I have disappointed you. I am sorry I went against your wishes."

"But I will not– I cannot apologize for loving her." You hesitate as your voice trembles, but you speak the words anyway.

You hear a cackle from Bellatrix, grumbles and groans of disapproval coming from the Death Eaters gathered in the corner, and once again, you feel more exposed and deplorable than ever.

Your mother remains staring at you, this time with nothing but disdain.

"Love?" She scowls, almost like it disgusted her just to utter the word.

"In love with a mudblood?" Your mother's tone shifts, now incredulous and despondent.

She finally lowers her wand, only to strike you across the face with her other hand.

You hear a gasp from Hermione, but otherwise the room is silent, as you clutch your cheek in pain.

When you finally muster the courage to look at your mother her expression betrays no trace of regret.

"You are no child of mine." She utters, exasperated, and your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

Tearing your eyes away they naturally fall on your father, standing a few paces behind.

You recognise a tenderness somewhere in his eyes, one you hadn't ever been awarded before. It's jarring and unfamiliar, it makes you want to weep.

"Step aside, y/n" Your mother says, lifting her wand again.

Perhaps it was pity, perhaps now your father was just as embarrassed as you are, or maybe, it is love that compels him to step forward, placing a gentle hand on your mother's shoulder.

"Darling, this is hardly the time or place." He attempts, but your mother doesn't move.

However, footsteps soon approach that causes all of you to shift your attention.

Draco can be seen entering the foyer with both of his parents, interrupting your altercation.

Your best friend pauses at the sight of you, evident concern etched across his face.

"Ah, Draco." Bellatrix acknowledges him and he's forced to look away from you.

The witch walks up to Harry, harshly gripping a handful of his hair to pull his head back, giving Draco a clear view of his face.

"Is it him?" Bellatrix asks expectantly, and the platinum haired boy couches in front of Harry.

"I can't be sure." Draco responds, dismissively.

His father then grips the back of his neck, harshly, and you observed as your best friend flinched under his touch.

You instinctively take a glance at your own parents. 

Your mother has since resumed her position next to your father, both of them deliberately avoiding your gaze, once again your chest constricts painfully.

Scabior is standing so close behind you and Hermione, too close, you can both feel his breath against the back of your necks.

"Look closely son." Lucius says.

"If we are the ones to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven." He adds, his voice low but it echoes through the large hall anyway.

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him. I hope." Scabior states, finally stepping away from you.

"Mr Malfoy." He continues to antagonize, and it works to set the other man off.

"You dare talk to me like that in my own house?" Lucius raises his voice and Draco flinches again.

"Lucius." Narcissa finally steps forward, extending her arm to calm her husband.

Hermione remained clutching your arm, her grip only tightened the longer you stood watching the commotion before you.

Finally, none of the Death Eaters are in close proximity, so you decide it an opportunity to try and escape.

"We need to apparate." You manage to whisper to Hermione, reaching down to intertwine your fingers but your girlfriend shakes her head.

"We can't leave Harry." She responds and you sigh, defeated.

An answer you expected but it causes your anxiety to heighten anyway. You begin looking for another solution, another way to flee. 

"Now, if this isn't who we think it is and we call on him, he will kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure." Bellatrix warns.

"What's wrong with his face?" Draco finally asks with a scowl.

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?" The dark haired witch repeats.

Scabior shrugs.

"He came to us like that." He states simply.

"Something he picked up in the forest I reckon." Another snatcher chimes in.

"Ran into a stinging jinx.." Bellatrix quips.

"Was it you, dear?" She asks, pointing directly at Hermione.

You feel your heart stop as your girlfriend tenses next to you.

"Give me her wand, let's see what her last spell was." The witch orders, and the evident worry that flashes on both of your faces easily gives you away.

"Ah, I caught you." Bellatrix says pointing at the two of you, amidst a cackle.

"It appears your girlfriend is not as smart as she thinks she is." She taunts, looking directly at you, successfully earning a grimace.

You contemplate lunging at the other woman, but before you can act, she halts. 

She catches sight of the sword of Gryffindor proudly propped up, next to one of the snatcher's.

"Where did you get that from?" Bellatrix gasps.

"It was in her bag when we searched her, I reckon it's mine now." The snatcher responds with a grin.

Before any of you can comprehend it, Bellatrix sends the man flying into the wall with a single throw of a spell. She then points her wand at the other snatcher in the corner, taking him out too.

"Are you mad?" Scabior exclaims, but the wand pointed at his face in an instant, silences him immediately.

"Get out! Get out!" Bellatrix repeatedly shouts, and the band of snatchers scurry out of the hall, all fearing for their lives.

"Put the rest of them in the cellar." She exclaims, lifting Harry by the collar before grabbing Ron as well.

She shoves them hard enough that they fall by Wormtail's feet.

"I want to have a little conversation with this one." Bellatrix states. 

You feel Hermione get ripped from your side, and instinct kicks in.

"No, get your hands off her!" You exclaim, reaching out to grab her but Bellatrix swings her arm, you feel a harsh blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of you, making you land on the ground as a result.

"Bella!" Her sister scolds, rushing to your side.

"Stop fighting, you will get yourself killed." Narcissa warns, you feel her firm hand on your shoulder as she forces you to stand next to her.

Before you can respond you feel another harsh grip on your collar attempting to drag you to the cellar with the boys.

"No, not her– I want her to watch this." Bellatrix states, gesturing for Wormtail to let you go, and he does.

All you can focus on is the way Bellatrix is handling Hermione, the sadistic smile as she does so, rough and thoughtless.

Your girlfriend looks terrified, and you feel utterly powerless.

She soon retrieves a dagger from her side, holding it up in front of Hermione's face.

"I will give you one chance to answer my question, before I start cutting." Bellatrix says.

Your head is now pounding, your abdomen still aches from the blow, your face stinging where your mother struck you.

Hermione attempts to make an escape but with one swift flick of Bellatrix's hand, she bounds your girlfriend's legs, causing her to fall onto the ground.

You watched as the witch got on top of her, pinning her down by her shoulders.

She then forcefully cuts through Hermione's sleeve with her blade, until enough of her arm was exposed.

"That sword was meant to be in my vault in Gringotts, how did you get it?" She asks, her face an inch away from Hermione's.

Your girlfriend is silent, beyond the whimper that falls out of her lips.

This seems to only urge Bellatrix to bring the tip of the dagger to Hermione's arm. The older witch begins dragging the blade down the exposed skin.

Hermione's sobs quickly morph into deafening screams and you don't feel anything beyond panic.

"It was me! I stole the sword, not her!" You raise your voice, hoping that it would be enough to take the attention of your girlfriend.

"Quiet! I am not asking you." Bellatrix retaliates, merely brushing you off like some pest.

Your eyes followed as she hovered the blade over Hermione's arm again. You see her blood trickling from her wound onto the wood underneath, and you feel sick.

"Please, I didn't take anything." Hermione pleads helplessly, and your chest aches so much you can barely breathe.

"I don't believe you." Bellatrix begins cutting again, this time she's laughing.

Deriving true pleasure from torturing Hermione, and you couldn't stand by and witness it any longer, you had to act.

Amidst your girlfriend's screams you manage to slip past Narcissa, stepping next to her son.

"Draco, give me my wand." You state firmly, as his hesitant stare meets your pleading one, he hands you your wand after a beat.

"Stop lying!" Bellatrix exclaims, you see her lower the blade down to Hermione's arm again and you don't allow yourself to think a moment longer.

You point your wand at the dark haired witch.

"Avada Kedavra!" You exclaimed, survival and wrath, your only goal was to save Hermione.

The bright green light shoots out from the tip of your wand, in an instant, the witch drops onto the ground with a large thud, motionless.

"Y/n, what did you just do–" You hear your mother exclaim but you don't acknowledge her, you refuse to.

Her shock, along with everyone else's; hangs in the air, mute but suffocating. 

Hermione is the first to come out of it, she sits up and you rush to her side.

With your arms around her you shut your eyes not half a second passes before you both disapparate, leaving your family behind.

-

You find yourself at the outskirts of Tinworth by Shell Cottage. The location you all agreed to meet at if anything went wrong. 

It was meant as a precaution, you never actually thought things could ever go this wrong.

Disowned by your parents.

Murdered another in cold blood.

Your girlfriend tortured and maimed.

"Hermione, it's alright, you're safe now." You state, carefully placing your hands on either side of the other girl's face.

Your girlfriend doesn't meet your gaze, scattered, her mind entirely elsewhere.

"Y/n, we have to go back, we have to help the boys–" She says, you stop her with a firm hand on her forearm before she can stand.

"No, Hermione! It's too dangerous. If we go back they will kill you." You say with a raised voice, unintentional, driven by your heightened emotions, but it works to get the other woman's attention.

"I can't– I can't lose you." Your voice shakes and Hermione finally looks at you.

An expression flashes across her face that tightens the knot in your stomach. 

She lets herself breathe and think, she realizes what you had done just moments prior, the significance, its implications.

"You killed her." Hermione states, more awe than contempt but you scramble to defend yourself anyway. 

Truth be told you don't know why you had reacted the way you did, you weren't even aware that you had it in you to begin with.

"I had to– sweetheart, she would have continued to hurt you if I didn't stop her." You stutter, but Hermione quickly silences you.

Her lips crash into yours, fervent, anguished, and eager. Your girlfriend's hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling even closer.

Hermione's clinging onto you; with no desire to let go of her lifeline, her love, the only reason she is still here, safe and alive.

You are forced to pull away as your lungs burn from the lack of air. 

"I will go back for them myself, promise me you'll wait for me here." You breathe out against Hermione's lips, your forehead resting against hers.

Before your girlfriend can even begin protesting you see Harry apparate in the distance. Closely followed by Ron and Luna.

The ginger haired boy is first to run to Hermione's side.

"Hermione, y/n. Are you alright?" Harry shouts, your girlfriend nods but you don't respond. Your eyes remain on the elf behind him.

You catch sight of Dobby, limping as he clutches his stomach.

"Harry Potter." The elf calls out, weak and frail.

Harry finally follows your gaze.

"Dobby." He says, sprinting to Dobby's side, and the elf collapses right into his arms.

You watched as a distressed Harry pulled something that seemed to have impaled the elf, he finally sets it on the sand next to him and your own stomach turns.

You immediately recognize the bloodied dagger. 

How can a single object cause so much damage? 

You feel your anger resurfacing, you regret not discarding the blade when you had the chance.

"Just hold on, okay?" Harry says as he tries to stop the bleeding, placing his hand over the wound.

"We'll fix you. Hermione will have something." He reassures before turning his attention towards her.

"In your bag– Hermione?" Harry pleads and your girlfriend merely clutches you tighter.

"Hermione." He repeats, desperate.

"Help me!" The man shouts, you hear your girlfriend let out a sob.

A barely audible "I'm sorry." before Hermione turns to embrace you, burying her face into the crook of your neck. 

An attempt to protect herself from the inevitable anguish; witnessing someone entirely undeserving of death, go out so painfully, abruptly.

"Such a beautiful place– to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend, Harry Potter." The elf mutters, and you are unable to stare any longer.

You make accidental eye contact with Ron, but for once there is a shared regard between the two of you. Grief, sadness, gratitude, acceptance.

The sheer helplessness Harry feels is shared amongst all of you as you watch the elf take his last breath in his arms.

You observed as Luna walked up to him, graciously shutting Dobby's eyes with her fingers.

Hermione remains in your arms, and you hold her close, having no intention of letting go.

"I want to bury him– properly. Without magic." Harry says, fighting back his sobs.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You are jolted awake once again out of a distressing dream. This time your girlfriend is not in bed next to you, you sit up abruptly in a panic.

"Hermione?" You call out, and the voice that responds almost immediately, swiftly eases your nerves.

"I'm here." Your girlfriend says, emerging through the doorway.

"I had to use the loo." She then explains, climbing back into bed. 

With the feeling of Hermione's head against your chest you can breathe again.

You spent most of the night lying awake, and when you did manage to find sleep you were merely tormented by nightmares. 

The encounter in Malfoy Manor could've gone much differently, in fact it could've ended horribly. You were so close to losing everything that mattered to you. You could only vow that you will never allow yourself to get that close again. 

Any relief you felt this morning derived from knowing your girlfriend at least managed to find some sleep herself. Clearly the events of yesterday took a toll on her, but she is resilient, as always, and you adore her for it.

"I'm sorry you had to leave your parents." Hermione says after a long silence.

"Don't be. Nothing good has ever come from me being around them." You state truthfully, threading your fingers through her hair, absentmindedly.

"You saw how they were." You add.

"I know, still, I'm sorry." Hermione repeats it anyway, lifting her head to place several kisses against your cheek, the same spot your mother had struck.

You then reach down, gently grazing her bandaged arm, soon lifting it up to place a tender kiss against it.

The look Hermione gives you in return makes your heart stop and beat faster in your chest all the same.

"You know, I fight so hard because of you." You admit, extending your arm to cup her jaw.

"I never had a reason before you." You add, your thumb stroking her cheek.

You watched as your girlfriend's eyes welled with tears, overwhelmed and consumed by adoration.

Hermione finally leans in, capturing your lips with her own. The kiss snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you don't care. You'd never wish for it to end.

She finally pulls away only slightly before resting her forehead against yours.

"I love you, y/n. So much, more than you'll ever truly know." Hermione says, and the pleasant fluttering that travels throughout your entire body translates to an easy smile on your lips.

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of excessive drinking to numb painful emotions, PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mention of scars

Word count: 2.8k

Sleep eventually came that night, and I felt hellish when I woke up in the morning. "Hellish" was putting it lightly. My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my entire body was sore, aching like when you have the flu. My chest was heavy, and it felt like it was taking a lot of energy to simply breathe. I don't think I'd ever felt so drained before.

It took a few moments of being awake for me to remember what had happened during the night. I blinked rapidly and looked at the other side of the bed. I remembered Daryl had to be out early for a day of hunting, so I wasn't too hurt when I saw it was empty. Still, I wished he had stayed just long enough for me to wake up.

This day was unusual for me in that I didn't have anything planned, at least not until the evening. There was going to be a community dinner. Everyone was supposed to make something, and we would eat out in the grass by the garden and drink late into the night. I likely wouldn't see Daryl until then, unless he got back early from hunting. I already couldn't wait for him to get back so I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything.

My day was going to consist of taking care of myself as best I could after last night and making food for the dinner, maybe seeing if anyone wanted help with theirs. I started by pulling myself out of bed. At first, I just slid out onto the floor. But I got myself out of bed, and that was a start. I didn't quite have the energy to stand, so I crawled over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. I had decided a few days ago that today was finally going to be the day that I wore that dress Daryl got me weeks ago, back when we hardly knew each other. Not only was I excited to wear it, but I was excited for him to see me in it.

I sat on the floor for a while, letting my body reserve as much energy as it could so I could get myself down to the kitchen. Having not eaten since lunch the day before certainly wasn't helping my situation. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up, steadying myself on the dresser. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit red, and my lids were swollen, but they weren't too bad. My face felt puffy, and my hair was a mess of bedhead. I would've taken a shower first if my hunger wasn't demanding I make my way to the kitchen.

Daryl had left a container of food for me in the fridge. On the lid was a sticky note with my name on it. Judging by what he wrote, he would've had to leave it this morning before he went out on his hunt.

Vec

Hope you're feeling better

See you tonight

I put the note on the counter so I would remember to put it in my notebook with the other one. Eating helped me to feel a little better, but I still mostly felt like a pile of garbage. The note also put a little smile on my face. After I ate, I lugged myself into the shower in the hopes that that would help me feel less like garbage.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

As I washed myself off in the shower, stills from my nightmare flashed through my mind. It was like my brain was flipping through photos of the incident to taunt me. It made me feel an otherworldly level of gross, disgusting, like the only thing that could cleanse me of the feeling would be to skin myself. I could hardly stand to touch my own skin, to look at my own body, and I ended up curling up into a ball on the floor of the tub and sobbing some more. I wasn't sure how much more of this my poor eyeballs could take.

I don't know how long I spent like that, curled up in a pathetic little ball in the tub, but it was long enough to ride out a panic attack that felt like it lasted for days.

Once the panic attack had mostly subsided, I did my best to finish washing myself off before standing back up. I continued to take deep breaths as I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my fresh towel and tossing it around me like a blanket. I couldn't even look at my hands for fear that seeing my scars would send me into another spiral.

One thing was for sure—I was going to be numbing these feelings with alcohol.

I had never blacked out before, as I was a lightweight and didn't even like getting to the point that I was dizzy. I didn't know what I was going to be like, or what to expect, but I didn't care. I couldn't handle these feelings anymore. They'd been creeping up on me more and more the last few weeks, and last night was the catalyst for my impending drunken state. I could only hope I wouldn't make a total fool of myself and ruin things with Daryl.

I sat on my bed, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my nervous system down. I had talked patients down from panic attacks before, but talking yourself down from one was different. After some time, I was breathing normally again, and my heart rate had returned to a steady beat. I dried myself off and got dressed, and the sight of me in the stunning dress Daryl picked for me made me smile.

I did a small twirl in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. The hem sat right around my ankles, and the slit came up to my mid-thigh on my right leg. It was nice and flowy around my lower body and hugged my waist and chest just right. It was like it was crafted just for me. I couldn't wait for Daryl to see.

I didn't need to start preparing food until later, so I thought I would go see if anyone needed help with preparing theirs or needed help with anything else. I grabbed my bag, put my boots on, and headed outside. It was a gorgeous day, nice and sunny and perfect for the evening's activities. People were bustling around, busy completing their daily tasks so they could relax when dinnertime came around. It was wonderful to see people getting excited about something and coming together so that we all could have a normal, non-apocalyptic experience.

I started off at Glenn and Maggie's. I hadn't spent time with Maggie in a while, and truly, I was less concerned about seeing if she needed help and more so just wanted to hang out. Maggie had become like a sister to me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed spending time with Daryl. But I also was in desperate need of some girl time.

"Hey. I just wanted to see if y'all needed help with anything for tonight. And I missed you," I said.

"Yeah, long time no see," she said. She stepped out onto the porch and gave me a hug, acknowledging my dress as she pulled away. “Whoa, where'd you pull that out from?" She opened the door and ushered me inside.

"Oh, it was a gift," I explained. She had an inquisitive look on her face.

"From...?" Maggie asked. I looked down at the floor and smiled. Her quick response let me know that I didn't need to explain. She knew. "No, really? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah. He said he thought of me when he saw it and thought I would like it. It's my first time wearing it." I looked back up at Maggie, whose jaw was nearly on the floor. “He tried to tell me that he just got lucky and didn't remember that my favorite color is blue, but I'm pretty sure he remembered."

"Oh he never forgot," she gushed, starting to walk away towards another room, "hold on, I have just the thing to add to your look." She returned a minute later with a curling iron in her hand. "Look what I found the other day. Can I do your hair?" She sounded so excited at the idea, I had a hard time saying no.

"Sure," I said, following her off to the bathroom, "why not? I have a lot of hair though, I hope you got time."

"Glenn can make the food for tonight. We got all the time we need."

We spent hours in that tiny bathroom, chatting and laughing and giggling like old friends. It felt like getting ready with a girlfriend to go out to the club on a weekend. It was times like this that made things seem normal, even if it was just for a few hours. We only took a break at one point for lunch, and Maggie explained to Glenn that he would be cooking for tonight's event. He was less than pleased.

"Are you gonna dress cute tonight?" I asked Maggie as she was moving on to the last chunks of my hair.

"I may have found something nice to wear," she said, a little smirk on her face and laughter in her voice.

"Oooh, you'll have to show me when we're done. We gotta make sure Rosita and Michonne do too. Ah I'm so excited!" I gushed.

After she finished the last piece of my hair, I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was somewhere between soft waves and tight ringlet curls, and despite being curled, it still reached down past my chest. Having my hair done was just the confidence boost I needed.

"Maggie, you killed it," I said. I twirled around and gave her another hug.

"You look great. Daryl's gonna have a hard time taking his eyes off you," she said. I caught myself turning red in the mirror, and her chuckling at me indicated that she had caught it too.

"Well, he can look as much as he wants," I gushed.

"Will he get to do more than just look?"

"Maggie!" I gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and I could feel the red on my face becoming brighter. She only laughed more.

"C'mon, let me show you what I picked out," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom to go upstairs.

Once I left Maggie's, I went over to see Rosita and then Michonne. I wasn't able to find Rosita, but I did tell Michonne about what Maggie and I planned, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to join us. She showed me a cute little cream-colored dress that she had but hadn't worn before, and I gushed over how pretty she would look in it. It felt good to be able to hype up my fellow women.

I took a little stroll around the community before going home to make food for the eventful evening to come. After I finished making the food, I hand-washed some pots and pans. I had squatted down on the floor to put something away in a lower cabinet when I heard the front door open. I figured it had to be Daryl. The butterflies in my stomach awakened. I was both excited and extremely nervous for him to see me all dolled up.

"Hey, there's my bonafide badass," I said as I popped my head up over the island in the kitchen. His chocolate hair hung in front of his face, obstructing his eyes from my view, but I could feel that they were on me. He had taken off his bow and his jacket, both of which had been tossed on the floor, and he had started walking in my direction. “How did the hunt go?"

"Real well. Probably the best in—wow." He cut off his sentence as I got up and walked around the other side of the island. My heart was pounding. "Ya wearin' it."

"Yeah. I, uh, finally found an occasion to wear it," I said, taking a few steps closer to him and giving him a couple of little twirls. “What do you think?"

He didn't say anything at first, just eyed me up and down, which I didn't mind. Like I told Maggie, he could look as much as he wanted. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me the tightest and most gentle hug I could imagine. I wrapped my arms around his neck in return. He was a little sweaty and dirty from being out in the sun all day, but I didn't care. My knees felt weak, and I practically melted into him as he pulled me closer.

"Ya look real nice." His sweet Southern accent right in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Dress fits perfect."

"Thank you. The hair is courtesy of Maggie. It took hours."

"She did great," Daryl said. We spent another few moments like that before Daryl released me from the hug. But he still kept me close, running his hands up and down from my shoulders to my elbows. His work-worn hands caressing my bare skin felt immaculate. “How ya feelin' after last night?" I kept my gaze on his chest. I was finding it difficult to look him in the eye when I thought about what happened the night before. I was still feeling ashamed.

"Alright. I had some...moments throughout the day, but I'm ok." I could feel him looking down at me. He only had three, maybe four inches on me at most, but he still had to peer down to look at me, especially when we were this close. I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. "I'm sorry about what happened. I feel bad for keeping you up, and I feel like such a baby for how I acted."

"Don't apologize. Nothin' ya did wrong. Just glad you're ok," Daryl said. His voice was always so silky soft when he talked to me, and it made me melt even more. "Wanted to stay with ya 'til ya got up, but I had to leave early. Sorry 'bout that." I leaned my head forward and rested my forehead on his chest. Being this close to him, wrapped up in his arms like this...it was my own personal heaven.

"That's ok, it's not your fault. Thank you for everything you did for me. I—" I cut myself off before using the word I considered. I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes locking immediately. Those stunning blue irises made me weak. "I appreciate you. A lot."

"Anytime sunshine," he reassured, and I gave him a big grin in return.

"I should get the food outside. Wanna come with me?"

"Ya go on. I'll be out soon," he said. I skipped over into the kitchen and grabbed the slow cooker, and Daryl went upstairs. I propped the appliance up on my leg and let myself outside.

Someone had taken one of the infirmary tables and set it up in the grass, and plenty of people had already brought their dishes out and were gathering together. There was also a separate table set up for alcohol. I went over and sat the slow cooker down on the infirmary table, and I could see Rosita bouncing over towards me.

"Dude, you look hot," she exclaimed, giving me a hug as she approached me, "your hair looks amazing. How long did that take?"

"Thank you. Maggie did it. It took literal hours," I said, "and so do you. You look so cute. I wish we had a way to take pictures."

"Thanks. She caught me earlier and told me you all planned to dress up, told me I should join in."

"Oh good. I tried to find you earlier to tell you, but I couldn't," I explained. I tapped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "Rosita, I need you to do me a huge favor. I'm looking to get drunk tonight. Like really drunk. If you think I might start saying something about Daryl, something that he or anyone else shouldn't hear, I need you to punch me in the stomach as hard as you can." Her expression changed to a confused one. "I mean that. Don't hold back. Knock some sense into me."

"Vector, I'm not gonna punch you. But I will stop you from saying something you'd regret. How much do you plan on drinking?"

"You don't wanna know."

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

[chibi-celesti]

Time for Your Tune Up

Part 1(here!), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

I need to get in to the groove of working more drabbles on here tbh ^^;

Side note: this is still a Twst Tonelico AU Drab, but with a focus different Reyvateil this time. This one is male and his name is Yumei Archambeau, a Third Generation from Sol Ciel. I'll show him off later, but for now enjoy!

Summary: ‘Oh no. It's time for it again already!?’ Yumei panicked. Checking his planner, Yumei noticed the mark of ‘that time of the tri-month’ is today. Today is the day for him to take his Life Extending Agent.

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, and Malleus Draconia x Yumei Archambeau (can be read as plationical and/or romatical)

Warnings: Innuendos, Hurt w/ comfort, and bribery (bribery in Adeuce part only)

‘Oh no. It's time for it again already!?’ Yumei panicked. Checking his planner, Yumei noticed the mark of ‘that time of the tri-month’ is today. Today is the day for him to take his Life Extending Agent.

To Third Generation Reyvateil- like him- they need to take a Diquility Crystal(aka, a Life Extending Agent) every three months. This supplement would help ensure most of his basic functions are stable so he doesn’t succumb to an early grave. Granted they only help til he reaches forty years old, after which he would eventually expire.

There is just one problem: he’s use to doing this with help back in Sol Ciel. But now, he world's away from there, and he has to do it again. He'll need to explain this without freaking the others out too badly, and hope that someone can lend him a hand. Grim kinda knows since Yumei had taken it after the whole Riddle debacle, and that was an awkward lesson to teach and show. (Grim had night terrors for a while).

Biting his thumbnail, Yumei contemplated who to ask for helping him take the Life Extending Agent. There were a few possible classmates, but would they understand the situation enough to help?

With a heavy sigh, he gathered his bag full of the supplement that fortunately was on his person when he arrived in Twisted Wonderland, and set out to ask anyone who would help him.

Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade:

“You want us to do what?” Ace asked, confused.

“Please, help me with this! Last thing I want is to ask Grim again!” Yumei begged.

Deuce was a bit confused as well. Why does Yumei need help with taking his medicine? “Isn’t it just a supplement pill or liquid medicine?”

“It is a supplement, yes; however…” Yumei answered the spade before taking a pause. “It’s not ingested through... normal means.” His face was turning a little red from imagining the pain from doing it himself.

“And, what do we get out of this~?”  Ace asked. “I mean, you’ll owe us, right? It’s only fair~” Cheeky bastard, wanting something out of this as always.

“I’ll buy whatever you both want for lunch tomorrow!” If it means getting this over with, Yumei will forsake his dignity to do it.

“Aww, how sweet of you, Prefect!”

“O-oh. Um, Thank you, Yumei,” Deuce said, a bit excited for the freebies as well. “So where do we do it?”

The Reyvateil sat down on the couch in the boys' bedroom. Turning his body to where his left side faces the Heartslabyul duo, Yumei lifted his shirt to show his Installer Port. “Right here.”

Adeuce paused for a moment. “Huh?”

“You heard me.” The Prefect turned his head away, embarrassed to expose himself like this. His friends continued to stare at him like he grew a second head.

Ace looked back to the Life Extending Agent in his hands. The crystal-like object was big, and the tattoo-ish thing on Yumei’s side was small.

Deuce cleared his throat. “You sure? It’s pretty big. It might not fit.” He received a nod in response.

The situation was getting more awkward than expected. Eventually, Ace muttered “Screw it” and went towards his friend to administer the agent. The ace of hearts was rushing to do it, he jammed the Agent in too fast, making the boy scream in pain! He was so loud, almost anyone outside the room could hear it.

Suppressing the noises as best he can, Yumei bit on his lower lip hard. ADeuce's faces were pale at first; soon panic painted their faces. “Hey,” Deuce called out to the Reyvateil. “You okay?!”

“Yeah! Why did you make that sound?!” Ace shouted.

“Y-you rammed it in too fast!” Yumei’s response was cut off by another groan. He began curling into himself from the pain.

Wanting to help alleviate the pain, Deuce ran to the boy's other side, letting his friend lean on the bluenette as Ace continued to put in the agent. The red head was debating about stopping, but Yumei told him to keep going. “It’s freaky. It’s going all the way in.” He states as he sees Yumei’s port absorb the supplement.

"Still shouldn't have rushed it, man..."

Deuce attempted to speak words of encouragement, face still red from the sounds echoing in the room. “Almost there, Yumei. Just hang in a bit more.” He wiped some sweat of the other boy's head.

“There. It’s in now.”

The Reyvateil thanked him, and all three sighed in relief that the treatment was over. Silence came in full force now. All three of them agreeing to never speak of what happened inside this room.

…

The next day, lunch time:

“Here.”

“You actually…”

“Well, I DO owe you guys, so here’s your freebies!”

“Why do I get the feeling this feels more like a bribery?”

"Just take it!"

Malleus Draconia:

“Ah, Tsunotarou!”

“Hello, Child of Man.”

Yumei did not expect to run into his dear friend, THE Malleus Draconia outside his dorm, yet here he was. Standing face to face with his nighttime friend in the middle of the walkway. The poor Reyvateil is sweating bullets and blushing like a lovelorn fool, completely speechless.

The fae noticed his friend looked a bit flustered. “Is everything ok, Yumei?”

“YUP! TOTALLY FINE!!” Said male shouted. ‘Fuck I didn't mean to be that loud!’ “S-sorry, Tsunotarou. I'm kinda… it's just I'm…”

Malleus noticed the bag clutched in the Reyvateil's arms like a lifeline. And, despite his stoic appearance, he knew what was going on right away.

“...Is it that time already?” He asked with concern.

Yumei bowed his head in shame. “...yes,” he muttered. “B-but it's ok. I was gonna ask someone to help! I know you're busy, and the last thing I want is to burden you with this.”

While Malleus may not be as tech savvy as others at Night Raven College, he has gotten better at understanding of Yumei’s existence as a ‘Song Mage’ and his tri-monthly supplement intake. Inwardly, he wished that he was there for Yumei's first experience. But perhaps, the dragon fae can make an exception. 

“It is no trouble at all.”

“You're right, so I'll just-” the male stopped in his rambling to process what he just heard. “Say that again.”

Draconia smirked. “It is no trouble at all. I'd be delighted to assist you, if that is what you wish.”

Yumei wondered if his face would turn any redder than it already was. He awkwardly gave an ok to the older boy, and welcomed him into Ramshackle. 

They situated themselves in Yumei’s bedroom on his bed; said boy ringing his hand at how to show Malleus his Installer Port. After a few moments, Yumei undid a few of the buttons on his uniform shirt, exposing the Port to Malleus.

“Here,” the Reyvateil says, showing his collar region to the fae. “This is where the Life Extending Agent goes.”

Malleus stares at the mark, taking in what he sees. He looks back to the bizarre geode in his hand, hesitating a bit before pulling Yumei closer to him and turning him to where his back met the fae's chest. This surprised said boy for a moment. “Malleus?”

“I wanted to ensure your comfort.”

“Oh…” Yumei was touched. “Thank you.”

Soon, Malleus brought the tip of the Life Extending Agent to Yumei’s port, and slowly pushed it in. “Ow.” The poor boy whined. He turned his face into the taller boy's neck.

He paused, worried that he hurt the Reyvateil. Panic in his voice, Malleus asked, “Are you alright?!”

“I-I am. Please… keep going,” Yumei placed his hands over top of the fae's. And slowly continued pushing it in. Dark clouds formed outside, conveying Malleus's fear and worries. He could hear Yumei’s groans and small struggles to stay still. Giving a brief squeeze of comfort to the shorter male, Draconia pushed more of the supplement inside.

Yumei was left panting once the Agent was finally inside him. He looked back to Malleus with an exhausted smile before turning to face said fae and hug him. “Thank you, again, Tsunotarou.”

Malleus reciprocated back, and the  dark clouds eventually faded away to clear skies.

Later that evening:

“Um… Tsunotarou?”

“Yes?”

Fidgeting, Yumei asked. “...Would it be ok if you helped me again in the future?”

The fae answers with a gentle smile, “Of course, my Child of Man. I would be honored.” And kisses the back of Yumei’s hand.

>///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////<

Weird fact: This Drab's title was all because of the fricking Doc McStuffins jingle! Why my brain did this to me I will never know lmao

[blood-official]

Some notes on my Lord Protector (who is literally just me but cool. Gonna use third person to refer to them though just to make it easy)

They were not raised in Macabria. After Project Twilight Sun was a success, Dracula had them sent to the "real world" in order to protect them from the monsters under the kingdom until they were old enough to face them. This was to the dismay of Victor, who was hoping to raise them as his own.

Side note about Macabria itself, I see it less as a real tangible country on the map, and more as a pocket dimension that Dracula discovered and founded as a safe haven for supernatural beings. Most of the time the only way to find it is to stumble across it, otherwise you have to be extremely gifted in magic to find it yourself. The "highway to the outside world" under construction is less of an actual highway and more of a simpler means of traveling to Macabria that will be open to anyone.

They were fairly normal before being brought to Macabria. No one would have been able to clock them as anything other than a regular human and they were raised by a normal family. When Dracula decided to peace out, Carmilla went to get them to bring them to Macabria.

Their vampiric half was "activated" when they got there. It was not a pleasant process.

They are not involved with Alexis (because in this version they didn't grow up together) but they are still friends.

They are getting the hang of being Lord Protector slowly but surely. They take their lessions from Carmilla very seriously and want to be the best ruler than can be for their people.

They still like to sneak off from now and then, wandering the streets, checking out the local music scene, and spending most weekends at their lodge in the mountains. They weren't raised for this life and it weighs heavy from time to time.

Some stuff about Rikke and Rollo specifically!

They both swear to god it was never supposed to happen

It all started one of the first nights Rikke went out to get away from the castle. They wanted something familiar so they hit up a local metal show

The band was actually really good, and damn their drummer is really hot. Local shows tend to be pretty intimate but they could swear he kept staring

After the show he introduced himself and invited them to the after party and they ended up slipping away together

The next day Carmilla tells them she's hired a mercenary to help bolster the wardens' ranks. She takes them to meet him and uh oh! It's the guy they fucked last night!

He is equally shocked his one night stand ended up being the Lord Protector and his new boss

Away from the others they have a chat and agree it was a one time thing and they should just keep it to themselves

Except they can't seem to keep away from each other and their little rendezvous in the night continue happening

Obviously it all has to happen on the dl, it would look really bad if the public or even the other wardens found out the LP was sleeping with a subordinate

Slowly but surely they each start developing deeper feelings until yay mutual love confessions!

Eventually only being able to see each other in secret starts to take a toll

Until Rikke has the brilliant idea of, hey if we got married, what would they even do about it?

So they go off and elope in the mountains with their only closest friends (obviously Ragnor and Runa knew about it the whole time)

And Rollo gets bumped up in the ranks from warden to Consort Protector (or Protector Consort. I'm still working on the name for the title I haven't decided which I like better)

:D

Finally, some visuals of my LP courtesy of Hero Forge!

An outfit for doing Lord Protector-y things out in the wild and a fancy outfit for doing Lord Protector-y things at the castle!

[jjtheresidentbaby]

@bebbie-bilinski again!! hi ^^

i wanted to request a regressor!stiles (r we surprised xD) fic with mainly platonic CG!noah stilinksi or maybe derek or whoever else u think would fit this scenario! i was thinking it could be a fic about noah having to bring stiles with him to the station for a last minute shift he needs to cover for whatever emergency thats later in the night! maybe make it baby regressor coded pretty pls 👉👈👀 it could be that stiles is just super fussy the whole night and exhausted and noah has to find a way to work around it!

anyways thats <3 all if u want more specificities or ideas u can always pm me!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ waiting on a ticket ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| stiles stilinski x theo raeken | read on ao3

notes: are we surprised I threw theo into this? not in the slightest, hope you don’t mind <3

warnings: classification au, inexperienced caregiver theo, bottles, formula, set sometime after s5

-

Theo fidgets with the loose string on his shirt as he sits in the uncomfortable metal chair at the police station. He’s waiting to get his ticket written up, Clark found him sleeping in his truck, again, and dragged him back to the station to get him out of the rain that’s been heavily pouring down for hours now. It’s not that bad to be at the station in hindsight, there’s heat here and a vending machine.

“Hi Clark, Parrish.” Theo’s thoughts get pulled back to reality at Noah’s voice, Stiles is trailing behind him half asleep. He stumbles a bit before Noah’s sitting him next to Theo, dropping a rather large bag at Stiles’ feet. His hoodie and pajama pants are damp from the rain, as is his hair that flops across his forehead. Theo’s never seen him so uncaring, most days he’ll be running his hands through his hair to tuck the pieces into place and messing with his graphic tee to get the wrinkles out— seriously Theo doesn’t know how someone cares so much about a graphic t-shirt.

“Okay I have to go make some calls, you stay here and if you need anything Parrish and Clark are right there.” The tone in Noah’s voice is one Theo assumes would be used on a younger kid— Stiles must be regressed, his brain supply’s. He knows that Stiles is a little but he’s never seen the other boy small nor has he ever expected to. They aren’t the closest after everything that’s happened.

“What’re you doing here?” Stiles pipes up after a few moments of tense silence, Theo watching Stiles’ body language incase he needed anything, Stiles looking a little mortified at seeing Theo here.

“Waiting on a ticket.” One that he doesn’t think Clark is actually writing as she’s busy giggling with Parrish over something on his phone.

“Why?” The littles eyes drop their wide eyed stare to instead lean towards Theo, waiting patiently for him to answer.

“I was sleeping in my car. Why are you here?”

There’s a bit of nervousness in Theo’s chest as the conversation continues. He’s never cared for a little on his own, the most he’s done is babysit Liam with Scott there to help a couple times. He feels in over his head the longer him and Stiles talk, mostly about tv shows Theo’s never seen, and books he’s never read, and eventually about a park visit Stiles and someone named Derek went on, he doesn’t know who that is.

“Are you getting tired?” It is two in the morning and Scott had stressed how important sleep is to littles when they had watched Liam so Theo isn’t surprised to see Stiles yawn. Stiles nods, yawning again with a rub at his eyes that’s one of the most adorable things Theo’s ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“Um maybe there’s a blanket or something in here.” He picks up the baby bag, a little surprised at how heavy it is. It’s a light blue color with white pockets on each side and thick navy straps that have small key chains hanging from them, one that Theo recognizes as a Star Wars character Stiles was telling him about.

He digs around in the bag for a minute but comes up short on a blanket. There’s a smaller one, a stuffed wolf attached to the top of it, but that wouldn’t work as something for Stiles to sleep with. Plush toys, teethers, pacifiers, bottles, extra clothes, sippy cups and a can of milk substitute that must be a formula specifically made for littles, take up the rest of the bag.

“No blanket, are you thirsty?” He can make a bottle if Stiles needs him to, the directions are on the back of the can so it shouldn’t be too complicated.

“Mm.” Stiles hums with a firm nod that Theo can’t suppress his smile at. It’s odd to see the brunette so relaxed and happy when Theo’s only ever seen him while he was angry, running for his life, or so stressed out he looked like he was about to collapse. This is a nice difference.

“Do you want milk or water?” There’s a water bubbler over by Parrish’s desk that he’ll need to use either way but he figures giving Stiles the option is better than assuming.

“Milk.” Theo goes to stand to fill one of the bottles with water to mix with the formula but he’s stopped by Stiles’ hand tugging his shirt. His arms outstretch towards Theo when he turns around, it takes a second for Theo to cue into what’s being asked of him but he quickly hefts Stiles up to his hip once he does.

Stiles clings around Theo easily as he makes his way to the water bubbler. They have to shift around a little so Theo can bend enough to fill up the bottle, Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, he buries his face into the side of Theo’s neck and lets Theo move him around with no complaints. If anything, Theo thinks Stiles might be giggling when Theo huffs under his breath after he accidentally smacks his head on the bubbler.

“You don’t wanna be put down?” Stiles only tightens his arms around Theo as a response. There’s nothing Theo can do so he sits them both down on the metal chair, grabbing the can of formula with the same hand he has the bottle in. He’s pretty proud of himself for not spilling the water everywhere.

“How many scoops does your dad usually give you? Do you know?” The directions are a bit warped when Theo goes to read them, Stiles shrugs, he’ll be no help. Theo thinks he’s slipped into a younger headspace the longer they’ve been talking.

“I think that says three so we’re gonna go with three.” It’s either a three or an eight, three is safer than eight and Stiles isn’t laughing at him as he does it so he takes it as a good sign.

“Can you do it yourself or do you need help?” Avoiding Stiles spilling the bottle all over himself would be ideal, Theo really doesn’t want Noah to hate him even more.

“Come here, it’ll be better if we stand.”

Theo rocks in place as he watches Stiles latch onto the bottle, he drinks at an even pace unlike the rapid pace Liam had sucked down his juice box when Theo had handed it to him. There’s something softer about Stiles, Theo’s able to feel comfortable in his lack of caregiving experience with Stiles. He finds a nice rhythm of bouncing on his feet as he walks them around the station, humming under his breath with a smile at Stiles trying to match the sound. He hopes he gets to see Stiles this at peace more often.

[scorpiongrassfield]

Conspiracy Board Time 

Start | Prev

Concrete enters the room and roams around, eventually settling near Pat’s feet as they enjoy their second cup of coffee for the day. 

Once Pat is satisfied that you and Theo have eaten enough, they set their cup down on the side table and say, “Okay, now we can get to work.” 

Theo stands to collect everyone’s trash and takes it into the kitchen for disposal. 

“What will we be doing, exactly?” he asks when he returns. 

“We’re gonna make a murder board,” Pat says, gesturing to the cork board. 

“Oh… has someone been killed?” Theo asks, not matching Pat’s enthusiasm. 

You can see realization dawn on Pat’s face. If you had to guess you’d think they were reassessing whether or not it’s appropriate to call it a murder board while talking to an actual murder victim. 

“Uh. No. I guess no one else has been killed as far as we know,” they say eventually. 

“Ah. Okay then,” Theo says. 

“Anyway!” Pat sing-songs in a manner that implies they want to move on without addressing anything that just happened, “We brought the board, pins, yarn, and a bunch of stuff to pin up. We were hoping you could help us piece everything together.” 

Theo hesitates. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try my best,” he says after a few beats. 

“That’s the spirit,” Pat says cheerfully. 

They move to start getting the materials out of the bag and onto the coffee table. Concrete steals their seat in the meantime. 

You help by spreading out some of the drawings and cards out so they’re easier to look through. 

“What mystery are we solving, again?” Theo asks as he stoops a bit to read the cards. 

“The sun is missing,” you say. 

“We’ve seen it a few times, it isn’t completely missing,” Pat corrects. 

“That’s… not reassuring,” Theo says, brow furrowed. 

“Plus our mystery is really like 8 stacked in trench coats like gnomes on a dinner date,” Pat says. 

Theo looks more confused than ever. 

“Our overall question for our mystery board is ‘What’s Going On’,” Pat says, pausing to pin a card with each of those three words up on the board. 

“That's not very specific,” you chime in. 

“It’s not! But it covers all our bases for now. We can get more specific if we have any more questions after we answer this one,” Pat explains. 

“First let’s get our dramatis personae up,” Pat says. 

You find the drawings you made last night and tear them from the sketchbook. 

Pat pins up a portrait they drew once you’ve gotten yours on the board. 

Ametrine stares out from the page, sadder than you’ve ever seen her. Pat’s drawing style favors bold lines and heavy shadows. 

“She’s not wearing sunglasses,” you note. 

“No? She doesn’t really wear them,” Pat says, sounding perplexed. 

“She’s always wearing them when I see her,” you counter. 

“Huh…” Pat takes a card and writes something down on it. 

“There’s no picture of you?” Theo asks, looking your way. 

You drew Theo, Pat, and the shadow, and Pat drew Ametrine… Theo is right. There isn’t one for you. 

“Uh… No. Guess we forgot.” 

“May I?” Theo asks, gesturing for the sketchbook. 

“Sure,” you say, offering it to him. 

He thanks you and settles back down into a chair to start drawing. He looks up every now and again, scanning your features before returning to the task. 

You aren’t sure how you feel about having your portrait drawn like this, but you did just agree to it, so you won’t back out now. 

“Now we connect everyone with yarn. Pink is for a connection to me, obviously. Black for you Sylv, we’ll put your portrait here when Theo’s done. T-Ametrine gets yellow…” 

“Why do you do that?” you ask. “Do What?” 

“You trip over Ametrine’s name often enough to be noticeable,” Theo chimes in. 

Pat huffs a laugh. “Can’t get anything past you two, can I?” 

They don’t elaborate. 

“Well?” you prompt. 

“I’m thinking. It’s not like it’s a big secret or her dead name or anything. It’s just. We used to be… close… Me and Ametrine. I used to call her Trina. Now we aren’t close. The habit remains. You two don’t know her by that name, so I’m trying to just call her by the one. That’s all,” they say. 

“How close were you?” you prod. 

“That’s none of your business,” Pat says. 

You give them a look. 

“Close enough that we were planning to run away together at some point. We didn’t though. She wasn’t… no, she couldn’t give up on what she thought was right, and I have a different idea of what’s right, so we went separate ways,” they say. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Pat mutters something under their breath, but you don’t catch it. You’ll let them be grumpy as long as they give you the information you want. 

“Who is she, though? How is she relevant to,” Theo gestures to the board with his pencil, “That?” 

“Not you too,” Pat complains. 

“We can’t make a conspiracy board if we don’t have any information,” you point out. 

“It’s true,” Theo agrees. 

“Oh this whole trip was a bad idea,” Pat whines, but you can tell they’re playing it up for laughs. 

“No dodging the question,” Theo says without looking up from the portrait. 

Pat laughs. “Absolutely relentless…” they shake their head. “Ametrine is an exorcist and psychic. She’s… Not fond of ghosts and will do just about anything to get rid of them, including murder,” Pat explains. 

“Oh, I see. I should perhaps steer clear of her then,” Theo says. 

“Yeah. She’s got it out for Sylv here,” Pat says, connecting Ametrine’s portrait to your space with black and yellow yarn.

“And we thought she was after him because of this guy.” They connect the shadow to you. 

“How are you two connected?” 

“Actually, I think the shadow might be more connected to Pat than me,” you say. 

“What makes you say that?” Pat asks head cocked to the side. 

“Last time I talked to it, it mentioned that you were the one that asked it to protect me, but that you’d forgotten you’d done so,”  you explain. 

“And you’re just telling me this now?” 

You shrug. You can’t tell them everything about that conversation anyway, and it never really came up. 

Pat gives you a look, but says. “Okay, well. We’re gonna put a pin in that for now.” 

They write down “The shadow allegedly knows Pat” on a piece of paper and pin it on the board. 

“The shadow is currently playing guardian for you, though its true motives are unknown,” Pat says firmly. 

Well, you can argue about that later. 

“How am I connected to all of this?” Theo asks. 

“We were hired to investigate your... situation,” Pat says. 

“Why?” 

“It’s complicated,” Pat says, trying to sidestep the question. 

“Oh. Okay,” Theo accepts. 

Pat is clearly trying not to remind Theo that his own parents covered up his death. 

“So our only connection to you that we know of is that we’re psychics and you’re a ghost,” you say. 

Except… 

“But you’re also connected to the shadow somehow,” you add. 

Theo’s face scrunches in confusion. “How?” 

“Are you sure you want to tell him?” Pat asks, their face expressing disapproval. 

Theo has a right to know that he might have been possessed. But on the other hand it might scare him and there’s nothing he can do to avoid future possessions. 

Will you tell him?

Next

[byunbhyunz]

Lead and Gold 3.

Pairing: Eunhyuk/Reader

Genre: mafia!au, smut and fluff

Warnings: swearing, blood, smut eventually

Word count: 3,285

There were a lot of gossips about your superior, Doctor Jung’s secret works, where he invited surgeon residents to his private clinic to help him out. Afterwards, no one talked a word about it. Then, your time came. He took you there too, and you did your best to do exactly what your job was in the hospital: saving people’s lives. You just didn’t know who’s life it was this time.

Previous | Next

You swore you could see stars. The left side of your face was numb and pulsed with pain at the same time, you tasted blood on your tongue, and you were sure that one of your teeth loosened.

“I asked something! Where is your boss? We know you work for Eunhyuk. Either this, or you open your legs for him.”

“Why else would he come here himself?”

“We should just kill her.”

“No. That’s not what we came for. We just scare her a little, so Eunhyuk gets our message.”

There was two of them. They were waiting for you in your own apartment, and you were tired enough to not notice the messed up lock on your door. You just walked right into their arms, or more like into one of their fists.

At first, they just slapped you and asked questions about ‘your boss’, Eunhyuk, but when you refused to say anything, they got more aggressive. Mostly the one who beat you up. He was a big man with broad shoulders, and muscles that nobody could have without steroids.

The other one was a slimmer man, barely any muscles, but had a gun stuck into the front of his jeans. You noted that he was the more dangerous one, since it would take him a few movements to take your life for good. As long as you don’t make him angry, you’ll live. And he just said that they don’t want you dead, just scared.

“I think that’ll be enough,” the slimmer one said.

You tried to look at him, which wasn’t an easy task anymore. Your vision was blurry, only undefined lines of them and your surroundings, and you knew that your left eyelid must have bloated so bad, that you couldn’t open it properly anymore. Or more like the left side of your face.

The bigger guy leaned away from you. You mostly heard them shuffle around your apartment, then after a few minutes they left. If you had any energy left, you would have laughed at how they even closed the door after themselves. Like the neighbors didn’t hear your screams or the disturbing sounds of his fist meeting your face and stomach. And yet, no sirens was heard. No one bothered enough to call the police. Maybe you should be thankful for that.

You didn’t know how much time you needed to gather strength to sit up from the ground, but you knew it wasn’t just a few minutes. Your whole stomach felt like a big, open wound, and you needed to crawl to your thrown purse to get your phone. With your dizzy head and blurry vision, you hoped that the name starting with ‘J’ you called was Doc Jung, not someone else.

Head feeling heavy, you lay back down on the hard wood floor of the living room as you waited for him or someone else answer your call. You reminded yourself not to close your eyes. You can’t fall asleep, in case you have concussion. And you were pretty sure you had one.

“What? Make it quick?” Jung barked in the phone. You groaned in pain as you adjusted your body.

“Come to my place and bring a bunch of painkillers. You might even have to bring me to your clinic.” You voice was strained, and for a long pause you listened to his breathing on the other end. He was more serious and careful when he talked again.

“What happened?”

“Just hurry up! I think I might have a concussion.”

“Y/N! Talk to me!”

“Someone looked for Eunhyuk at my place. They waited for me in my own home to come back, and beat me up when I didn’t tell them anything. They probably watched Eunhyuk visit my place during the last time he was here.”

“Fuck!”

You could only agree with him. Fuck, indeed.

Waiting for Jung to arrive, you felt nausea crawl up from your stomach. Your head felt heavier with each passing minute. You shouldn’t fall asleep, you knew that, but it felt harder to fight it off. You craved for sleep.

When you finally heard steps nearing your door, you sighed in relief, but your muscles tensed. Help was here. You swallowed hard, letting your eyelids close for a little longer than a blink.

Jung swore for minutes, when he came in and saw you. You tried to open your eyes to look at him, and only one obeyed you. You must have looked like shit. At least, you felt like it.

“Where does it hurt the most?” he asked, as he knelt down next to you. His hands opened the bag he brought with himself, fingers grabbing a scissor and a medical flashlight.

“Stomach. And head. I really think I have concussion.”

“Then don’t fucking fall asleep on me.”

If you had the strength you would have laughed at his words, which were rough and angry, not so sure why. You both should have known that this could happen. It was logical. If you were to be an enemy of Eunhyuk you would track down someone who works for him to get information. Except you didn’t talk, and Eunhyuk probably didn’t give a fuck if someone beat you up because of him or not.

“Give me a plate or something. I have blood in my mouth.”

“Internal bleeding?”

“Hopefully not. They tried to make a smoothie of my face and loosened a teeth while doing so. Maybe that’s the source of the blood.”

“You are still joking. Good.” He cut your shirt up and hissed almost immediately.

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s already bruising. We should go to my clinic, make an X-Ray and CT scan. I don’t want to risk an internal. And your face…” So you did really look like shit. “Can we get out of here without your neighbors noticing?”

“We can just go out through the front door, no one will care.”

He cocked an eyebrow at your words, but didn’t argue. If no one called the police on you during however long you were lying on the floor, then nobody will care or be surprised if you limp out beaten up.

“Hold onto me.”

“Just don’t move me fast.”

It was painful to sit up. You wanted to put back your head on the wooden floor and just die. It would be more merciful than going through all that shit for getting better. Pursing your lips, you hissed when you clenched your teeth. The one on the left lower line really loosened up. But that was the least of you concerns.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run anywhere.”

He didn’t find your words funny. Both of you knew it was your way of coping with the pain and everything else. Dark humor was necessary for a surgeon.

The walk to his car was something you wouldn’t wish even to your enemies. You couldn’t even clench your teeth anymore, so you just dug your fingers into Jung’s arm as he helped you get there. He didn’t complain about it, only swore under his breath when you hissed in pain upon a harsher move.

You lay down on his backseat. Tears ran down on your puffed face as he started the car. You groaned continuously, since every bump on the road made your body jolt and shake. On instinct, you wanted to put your hand on your stomach, but it hurt too much to move.

“Are you awake?”

“I wish I wasn’t. God, at least they could have finished the job. And me.”

“Who would have thought you are a crybaby when you get hurt?”

“Fuck you,” you muttered weakly.

You felt nauseous again, as if something was creeping higher and higher up in your throat, but nothing happened. Except for your head pulsing in pain. Carefully, you touched your face. It was bloated on the left side, you even touched something wet, probably blood.

Jung shuffled around in his seat. You heard him tap the screen of his phone, then the sound of his phone ringing filled the car.

Eunhyuk answered on the fourth ring.

“Better be important,” he barked into the line, as you groaned once again.

“We need bodyguards at my clinic. Someone attacked Y/N.”

A long, sticky pause followed Jung’s words. Then a sigh.

“Did she talk?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, but wasn’t quiet enough, since a chuckle came from Eunhyuk.

“You sound to be well enough for being attacked.”

“She’s not,” Jung cut in before either of you could say anything. You swallowed back another curse, your fingers clutching the cushion of the backseat. Yes, you joked as if everything was fine, but it really wasn’t. “I won’t bore you with the details, but she really needs protection. Whoever did this might come back.”

“I send someone. Donghae drives me there.”

“Please, don’t come,” you said airily, head banging against the seat on the bumpy road. Since when have had the city so many shitty streets?

Another long pause filled the car, and you couldn’t hear Eunhyuk’s reply as you lost your consciousness.

When you woke up next, you were in your own apartment, head still aching, but you could open both or your eyes properly and your abdomen wasn’t covered in gauze, which you took as a good sign. That meant there was nothing serious to cover up, so you didn’t have internal bleeding in the first place.

Mouth dry, you went to the kitchen for water, and found Jung sleeping on your couch and a stranger sitting at your small dining table. Your hands formed a fist on instinct, mind running a thousand miles and hour for options and answers. He noticed your tense state too.

“I work for Eunhyuk. My name is Shindong.”

You shoulder’s relaxed as Jung shuffled a little in his sleep, but didn’t wake up.

“Donghae, Shindong… Did he pick you because you ‘dong’ in your name too?” You sputtered in a drier tone than you attempted. Fuck, for how long have you been passed out? Does it mean you didn’t have concussion? You didn’t recall Jung waking you up. Not even once.

The man, Shindong, laughed heartily, his whole body shaking. You noticed that he had a big body, and you wondered how he could protect you from anything. Being big, even if it was pure muscles, meant he could move slower than the average people. He didn’t seem particularly outstanding for your eyes, but you could be wrong.

“I hope not. I saved his ass once.”

You looked curiously at him as you walked by the dining table, far enough for him not being able to catch you if he would reach out with his hands. Just because he said he worked for Eunyhuk, it didn’t mean he wasn’t lying. You have to figure it out, and find something you can protect yourself with, just in case.

You glanced at Jung’s sleeping form, as you grabbed a glass from your cupboard and poured water in it.

“Did you step in front of a bullet that was meant for him?” You asked as your fingers wandered to the knives you chopped meat with on the rare occasions you cooked.

“No. I was fast enough to get him out of a sticky situation. He ended up with a bullet anyway, but it was his own fault. I told him not to go before I tell him, but he didn’t listen.” His voice trailed off, and you body stiffened. He sounded sincere, but he also could be a very good liar. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. I got orders on protecting you, and you look bad enough, so I don’t want to hurt you more, but if you try something nasty on me, I will.”

You quickly retracted your hand from the knives. Curses crowded on your tongue, but swallowed them back. You did that too much lately.

“Very observant,” you hummed, and drank the water.

“That’s why he employed me. And because I shoot first and ask questions later.”

Frowning, you turned away from him, not minding if he was behind your back anymore. You deemed him not dangerous towards you, and already had enough of that kind of macho talk.

You wondered if you should wake Jung up, or just let him sleep and ask your questions from Shindong instead. You needed to know for how long you were knocked out, what was you diagnose and what happened while you were unconscious. Jung could give you the best answers, you decided.

Your head was pounding again, not so painfully as right after the beating, but it was still there, steadily. Putting your empty glass on the counter, you walked to the couch, and nudged the doctor’s leg with your own. He shifted, pulling his legs to his chest, all while mumbling incoherently. He almost looked like a little kid, except he was a grown man and didn’t suck on his thumb. Nudging him again, a little harsher this time, you said:

“Jung, wake up!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Get up before I kick you for real,” you warned him, trying to sound braver than you were.

You felt Shindong’s gaze on you, also heard his light chuckle when you really had to kick the doctor. Although, it probably hurt you more than him. It worked anyway; Jung’s eyes fluttered, then he opened slowly. They widened as he realized where he was and who he was looking at. Yawning, he sat up. You plopped down next to him, dropping your feet on the coffee table. Quickly glancing at him, then Shindong, you sighed.

“What happened?”

You looked at the old newspapers and your textbooks, and noticed a white envelope, that definitely wasn’t there before. With narrowed eyes, you reached for it, your question put aside for a minute.

“Eunhyuk sent it to you. I hardly could convince him to not come to the clinic.”

“It was too risky,” Shindong chimed in, hands lazily pointing at you. “Whoever did that to you, could have easily followed you, and then he would get to him too. He should lay low, not jumping in the middle of trouble.”

Slightly more conscious about your looks, you raised you free hand to your face, cold fingers hesitantly tapping on the warm skin. It felt normal, except for the pain the light touch caused. When you clenched your jaws, your loosened tooth also gave you a reminder of the beating. You tossed your memories about it aside, focusing on the envelope.

It wasn’t closed down. It had a stack of cash inside and a simple red paper. You pulled the paper out, not giving a money more than a thought.

It was a ‘get-well-soon’ card, that was sold in convenience stores and supermarkets. The inside of it was white, painted with a few bold, black words. ‘Hope you get better soon. It won’t happen again, I swear. Eunyhuk’, it said curtly. You snorted, throwing the card on the coffee table. Did he really had the nerves to send you a card and money for getting beaten up because of him? Was he out of his mind?

Both men were watching you.

“Give this back to him,” you said quietly. Your words were meant for Jung, but Shindong was the one answering you.

“He won’t be happy.”

“I’m not happy either. So what happened? Do I have concussion? Internal bleeding? Broken ribs? Anything serious?”

“Well, I wouldn’t risk looking in to the mirror for at least two weeks if I were you, but nothing worse. You had concussion, but you are fine now. We still should do a CT a few days later, but that’s it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let me sleep.”

“I didn’t. I woke you up every so often. You seemed really out of it, when you were awake, I’m not surprised you don’t remember it,” he sighed when you didn’t react. Your eyes were still on the money and the red card, not really knowing what to think. “There’s nothing serious, really. You slept through the worst part. You were blacked out for two days. Now you just have to deal with the bruises and the questions you might get in the hospital.”

You frowned, then winced as your face scrunched up and the pain was back in the mentioned bruises.

Ryeowook will probably ask on too many questions. He liked to interrogate anyone who sparked his interest, and what is more interesting than you going to work with a face that’s more colorful than a rainbow?

On the other hand, others are not likely to ask questions. They held the three steps between you and themselves. They will be curious, but won’t be brave enough to talk to you directly. They will just rely on the gossips they overhear from Ryeowook. Hospitals were way worse than high school was.

“When do I get to go back to work?”

“You still have a day, but you have to cover your night shift tomorrow.”

“What about him? When is he leaving?” You meaningfully glanced at Shindong, who didn’t even try to act like he was minding his own business. He stared right back at you, eyes cold and sharp. You rather turned back to Jung, feeling a little embarrassed.

“He stays until Eunhyuk catches whoever was after him. He’ll probably visit you later to ask you about your… attackers.” Hands on his knees, Jung pushed himself up from the couch, leaving you there to boil in your own feelings and thoughts. “Oh, and we changed your locks. It’s a little safer now in here. I still can’t believe you live in a shithole like this.”

You didn’t like the frown on his face, the expression of looking down on you and your situation. You scoffed, but swallowed back your reply. He doesn’t have to know about that you had to sell most of your belongings and move in here, to be able to afford medical school. Leeching off your parents wasn’t your thing, and you didn’t want to make them worried, so you just sold everything that worth a penny, and invested the money in your education.

“What about work?” you asked Shindong this time.

“I’ll stay outside the hospital. You can call me if anything happens or if you see someone suspicious, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Great. No one will notice that, I’m sure.”

“Stop with the attitude, Y/N!” Jung barked, and you leaned back on the couch, pursing your lips tightly together. You probably looked like a moody teen, but didn’t care.

You were beaten, you were in pain, and your mind still haven’t processed all of that. What a bunch of idiots! And now you can’t even complain in your own home! Well, it was rented, so basically it wasn’t yours, but that wasn’t the point.

“Give his money back to him,” you said finally.

Jung shook his head in disbelief, and Shindong turned away, a small smile still playing on his lips.

“The card?”

“Do whatever you want with it.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. And don’t talk about what happened.”

“I know, I know.”

You waved with your hands, shooing him away as he grabbed the white envelope with the money. You refused to look in his direction as he left your apartment. The red card stayed there, mocking you. Not wanting to be thinking of anything, you went back to your bedroom after giving Shindong’s back a quick look. He didn’t move, only stared out the window.

You really needed a shower. And maybe you can steal a glance at yourself in the mirror too. Hopefully, you won’t freak out because of the reflection.

[jaxyacksprojects]

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Newsletter below the cut (worse formatting and lacking the embeds, but fine if you don't want to click a link):

Live Laugh Stuck

Latest Episodes

Missed a couple updates, so here’s what’s been going on!

We have our penultimate Rating Ship Names episode! I keep joking that by the end of the final one, I’ll have this whole audio/video editing thing down pat. And though I’m far from eager to make more visual heavy episodes (as I am not the hugest fan when podcasts I listen to switch to that), it’s a nice card up my sleeve for future projects.

Next we had our Live Q&A! Which ended up mostly being us chatting. It was fun for everyone to meet up in person! Definitely something I’d like to do again. Eventually I’m going to edit this for the podcast feed, but for now you can watch it on youtube! Nothing visual heavy, but Moosie did make us these cute little gifs!

After that, I accidentally skipped a week! We’ll just say that the live show (combined with the trailer I’ll get to in a second) was the content for that fortnight. Even if I haven’t gotten the live show up on the podcast feed yet. Whoops! But we course corrected and released at our normal time this week, more of our blind readthrough: Moosestuck!

Last but not least, the podcast finally has a new trailer! This ended up being a hit on tiktok, so hopefully y’all enjoy it as well!

Next Up

Two weeks from now we’ll have the final Rating Ship Names episode! I really enjoyed doing the series, and didn’t mind the editing as much as I made it seem (complaining is fun!), but I’m still glad to close the chapter on this project. I have other things I want to be doing that I’ve only barely been able to start before finishing this up! Which should have encouraged me to get it done more quickly, but, well, that’s ADHD for you lol

After that, we might focus on getting through more of Moosestuck while I work on other things, both LLS and not, but I don’t want to say anything for sure as of now.

Jax Elsewhere

I’ve started streaming every Saturday at 11 am cst on Twitch! Currently playing through Dragon Age Inquisition in preparation for The Veilguard coming out this fall! Doing a Solas romance for Extra Feels. I haven’t decided if I’ll stream TV and just up the schedule or do a personal playthrough, but my aim is to keep streaming every Saturday morning, even when I’m done with Dragon Age. It’s something that I’ve been meaning to do for a while, partially as encouragement to get through my vast Steam backlog, so keep an eye on it! And let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve the stream!

Other Upkeep and News

My first Tumblr blog has remained terminated with no communication from Tumblr despite my many attempts to reach out, and in the meantime, my second blog got terminated as well. I had one that I made as a back up and hadn’t used yet, so go check out Jax Yacks Projects if you prefer to keep up to date on Tumblr! My hope is since I’m only using it for projects and other non-personal side blogs, I won’t get nuked again, but we’ll see! I haven’t updated all the links in the show notes, though — it’s on my list of projects.

Links! Click them!

This is where else you can find me on the web! At least some of the places lol If you check out nothing else, come join the Discord! It’s still small, but there’s been a bit more regular activity, and Domi, Justin, and Moosie are all in it as well! It’s also more consistently updated than these newsletters, though I have plans in motion to try to keep this more regular.

Projects Discord Main Website with all project links Live Laugh Stuck Website Ko-fi Live Laugh Stuck Twitter Live Laugh Stuck Tiktok

Poetry Corner

Prompt: “Perhaps it is genetic.” Generated here.

It's cliche The promise to never be like them Which parts we reject Which we ignore

It's ingrained We can never know their whole The parts we never saw The parts just like ours

It decays Does the promise remain unbroken? Can we stop the repetition? Is this a cycle or self-fulfillment?

[something-tofightfor]

Root Pearl: 2

Pairing: Eventual Ezra x female reader - musician AU

Word Count: 12,314

Rating: M. Language. Infidelity. Talk of drug use and character death. 

Summary: Life goes on, and as you attempt to find time for everything in it, new information comes to light ... which might just make the future a little less certain.

Blanket warnings: loss of a parent, character death, survivor’s guilt, learning to deal with the loss of a limb, infidelity (not Reader w/Ezra), blood, bodily injury, heavy angst.

Author’s note:

Answers, finally. Hope you all enjoy this one - it’s a very important chapter in terms of pushing the story forward. 

Catch up here: Intro / Part 1

After running into them at the restaurant, your contact with Cee was steadier than it had been, even though you wouldn’t call it regular. You were busy at work, thanks to taking on a new client that needed three separate itineraries prepared, and it meant that you stayed later at the office a few days a week, making it difficult to plan a dinner with the girl. 

Robbie’s new job was another reason that you held off, because even though his responsibilities hadn’t changed, it did require more time working, which meant less time to spend together. And you wanted to see him whenever you could - so it meant being home at night to spend a few hours with him whenever he managed to make it back from the office. 

But after two and a half weeks of that arrangement, you decided to take things into your own hands, ordering dinner from your desk while you finished your last call of the day. After clocking out, you picked it up and then headed for his office. He’d texted you to let you know he was working late that night and would grab something on his way home, but you hadn’t wanted him to go hours without eating. 

As you parked, your phone vibrated, a message from Cee popping up on the screen. 

Ezra’s got plans tonight, so I’m free. Dinner? 

Briefly, you wondered what the plans were but decided that it wasn’t any of your business, typing out a reply to her and including a shot of the bag of food on the passenger seat. 

Can’t. Taking dinner to Robbie. What about tomorrow? 

You didn’t wait for her response, getting out of the car and carrying the bag through the front doors and into Robbie’s building, pressing the button to call the elevator. As you waited for it to take you up, you felt your phone vibrate again, but didn’t have a chance to check it before the doors slid open and revealed his company’s lobby to you. 

You knew where his office was, and so you headed past the empty front desk to get to it, finding the door almost all the way shut. Raising one hand to knock, you paused when you heard a woman’s laugh from inside, the sound familiar. Streli. Lips pressed together firmly, you rapped your knuckles against the door and then pushed it open, steeling yourself for whatever you’d find inside. 

It wasn’t as bad as you’d imagined, but it was still not great - Robbie sitting on one side of his desk, the woman across from him and food spread out between them. His eyes snapped to your face and then widened, the man pushing to his feet as he let go of the cup he’d been about to pick up. You paused a few steps into the room as he said your name, and even though you wanted to, you didn’t look at the woman, wanting to see your boyfriend’s reactions instead. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you -”

“Thought I’d surprise you with dinner on my way home since you said you were working late, but I see that it’s not necessary.” You glanced at the desk and then looked back at him, reminding yourself that he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong - at least that you’d seen. It just doesn’t match with what he said. “I -”

“Robbie knew we were both going to be here late today.” The other woman finally spoke, turning the chair so that she could face you.  “So he offered to get us dinner while we worked on the case, since I bought last time.” Last time? You couldn’t quite place it, and you didn’t know if you were overreacting, but there was something in the woman’s voice that you didn’t like - a hint of haughtiness like she’d won something - and it was coupled with a look of satisfaction in her eyes. 

You looked again at the food, realizing that they were almost finished with it. And that means that he would have had to order right around the time he texted me… or before. “Well I hope you enjoy it.” You forced a smile, looking down at the bag you carried. “You could have told me that you were eating here when you messaged me earlier, Robbie. I would have just gone home.” You didn’t mean to but let frustration creep into your voice, closing your eyes and exhaling. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m sure you have a lot more work to get back to when you’re done.” 

You paused, giving him a few seconds to move toward you, to tell you to stop, to ask you to stay. You waited to see if he’d tell the woman to leave and give you a few minutes of privacy, but when he didn’t, you nodded once and turned back toward the door, still holding the bag. “Wait, where are you -” He finally answered, crossing the room to get to you and touching your shoulder, his hand resting there. “Why do you look mad?”

“Because you lied to me.” You kept your voice low, locking eyes with his as you turned back to face the man. “You lied to me about when you were going to eat tonight and who you were going to eat with.” You gripped the bag handle tighter, head shaking back and forth. “And it makes me wonder if you’re lying about anything else, too.” He didn’t say anything, the man standing in one spot and just watching you, and so you scoffed, closing your eyes and lowering your head. “Great talk, Robbie.” Leaning over, you let the bag of food drop into the man’s trash can, the containers making a quiet thud as they hit the bottom of it. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

Not saying anything else, you spun away from him and reached for the door, ready to pull it open so that you could leave. “Wait, why’d you throw it away? You could have taken it home, and -”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Not bothering to look back, you stepped into the lobby, wondering if he was going to follow you. He didn’t - even while you waited for the elevator, and once the doors closed behind you, you finally deflated, bringing both hands up to cover your face as you gasped out the breath that you’d been holding. Am I overreacting? They weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just eating. 

But even though they were only eating, it was clearly not the first time it had happened - and it had previously happened enough times that they were on a schedule, trading off on who bought and ordered. That, along with with the feeling you got about the woman’s opinion of you and the fact that she and Robbie had spent a lot of time together while he prepared for his promotion interviews made you somewhat suspicious. Maybe I should have been all along. You hated being that woman, but didn’t want to let it slide, and knew that when he got home that night, there’d likely be an argument. Shit. 

Finally making it back to the car, you climbed in and then put your forehead against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. You sat there for long minutes, trying to steady yourself, and when you heard your phone vibrate from inside your bag, you reached for it, wondering if it was Robbie. But it wasn’t - it was Cee, the girl’s reply to the message she’d sent minutes earlier very short and to the point. 

:( Ok. Boo, but ok. Tomorrow works. 

Hope your food is good. 

It probably would have been, but now I won’t know. Holding the phone in one hand, you bit your  lip as you stared at the screen, You didn’t want to go home. You didn’t want to sit alone in your car. You didn’t want to stew and get lost in your own thoughts. So you opened up the messages and typed a new one back, fingers flying over the keys. 

Plans changed. You still free tonight?

— 

You’re waiting in front of the apartment building when she steps out the front doors, pulling her coat tightly around her body. Cee immediately heads for the car, smiling, and when she sees your expression, her smile falters slightly. Something’s wrong. But your greeting is friendly enough, and so Cee relaxes against the seat and then, at your request, gives you directions to her restaurant of choice. 

It’s a short drive over, and so you don’t speak much, but after you’ve been seated, she stares at you, watching as your eyes scan the drink menu. “Tough day?” 

“Kevva, yes.” You roll your eyes and sigh, glancing up. “Work was fine, but … Yeah. I need a drink.” You pause, closing your eyes. “Is that alright? I don’t know if -”

“It’s fine.” She waves a hand, blinking. “I can even drive you home if you need, I have my license.” She still doesn’t know what happened, but she can guess, based on the fact that it wasn’t work related, and you’d just come from an absurdly short dinner meeting with your boyfriend. “I had to drive Damon around sometimes after he’d had too much to drink.” She sips her water and then licks her lips, remembering the nights he’d gotten ahold of her, speech slurred, and told her that she needed to come and get him. But that was just because he felt like drinking, this is … 

“One should be alright.” Sighing, you point out a drink on the menu and then tap the touchscreen on the table to order it. “I’m going to need to be sober when I get home, because…” You trail off and Cee leans forward, waiting. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll be fine.” Cee understands what you’re doing - trying to keep whatever the problem is to yourself, not wanting to burden her with it. 

But after months of living with Ezra and learning the best ways to make him talk about what’s bothering him even when he doesn’t want to, she knows it’ll be easy to get you to open up. Even though we don’t know each other. “Well I’m here to listen. I know I’m kind of a stranger, but sometimes it helps to talk to someone that isn’t… involved.” You nod, eyes going back to the menu. “I’m glad that you texted back. Ezra’s having a couple people over tonight, and if you hadn’t wanted to meet, I was going to have to go to a movie by myself.” 

That gets your interest, your gaze rising to meet hers. “Yeah? That’s got to be a good sign that he wants company, right? He’s been laying pretty low since the accident, so -”

Cee waves her hand in the air, rolling her eyes. “It’s just the band. He’s seen a few of them once or twice, but this is the first time they’re all coming over together. I guess they want to do some sort of benefit show, and they need to talk to him about it because it’s all his music.” She takes another drink, shrugging her shoulders and fighting back a wrinkle of her nose. “I think they’re a little upset that he did his solo thing, but that’s just me.” 

“But he’s the singer.” You’re frowning, biting your lower lip, and for the first time that night, she sees something that isn’t frustration in your eyes. “How can they do a benefit show without him? Someone else could play guitar, but the vocals, he…” Exactly. 

“That’s why Inumon’s there. They think that she can convince him to sing with them.” She sees it - a fleeting look of annoyance on your face at the mention of the other woman’s name, and Cee can barely keep her own expression even at the thought that you might feel the same way as she does about Ezra’s former fling. For different reasons, but still. “They’re wrong about that, but…” She shrugs again, gesturing for the tablet. “Ready to order?” You nod, sliding it across the table toward her, and once both of you have made your decision, Cee leans back, still watching you and waiting. 

When your drink is delivered - something purplish-pink and vaguely glittering, you take a long swallow, closing your eyes. But when you open them, your question surprises her. “This probably makes me look like I know too much, but …” Using your thumb to dry your lower lip, you sigh. “Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Weren’t they together a couple months ago? I thought right before the tour started, they were…” You frown, thinking of the best way to phrase it. “Seeing each other?” 

“Yes and no.” Cee rolls her eyes again. “She was trying to make something happen. He was just… going along with it because he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with her while they were both on tour.” She grins, raising her eyebrows. “He figured that any stories about him or them before the tour would help to sell tickets, and it did. We were sold out for the first three weeks, and …” She trails off, closing her eyes. “The rest of the shows were close, too.” Ezra was so excited. 

She feels your hand on her arm and when Cee opens her eyes, you’ve leaned forward, lips parted. “I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to -”

“No. No, it’s alright.” Cee nods, glancing up at the ceiling and then back at you. “There’ll be another tour. Once Ezra gets the permanent prosthetic and gets comfortable again, it’ll happen.” She’s close to tears and you say her name, drawing Cee’s attention. “Hmm?” 

“He’s lucky to have you, Cee. He’s lucky that you’re there for him and that he’s not alone.”

“I’m the reason he’s missing an arm.” Her eyes are welling with tears but she’s determined not to let them fall. “He protected me when we crashed. I wasn’t even hurt, and he…” Cee draws in a shuddering breath, swallowing hard. “So no, he’s not lucky. If he wouldn’t -”

“Cee, I don’t know him at all and I don’t know you well. But you can’t blame yourself. He made his decision, and who knows - if he hadn’t tried to protect you, both of you might not have made it.” You lean in again, eyes focused on hers. “But you did. And there has to be a reason.” You’re right - and she knows it. It’s something that Ezra has repeated to her time and time again, but she also knows that it’s going to take time to believe it. “And like you said, when he gets his arm, things will be different. It won’t be exactly how it was before, but it’ll… you’ll see.” You believe what you’re saying, and she wants to agree, but the words won’t come. 

Instead, the girl stares at you for long moments, the silence only broken by the delivery of your food to the table. It looks delicious, and you both start eating, but after a few minutes, Cee decides to be bold. I opened up, so maybe she will, too. “Why do you think that you need to be sober when you get home tonight?” Chewing, she waits a few seconds to continue. “Did something happen with -” 

“Yes. Maybe.” You scoff, raising and lowering your shoulders. “I think my boyfriend might be lying to me about a coworker, and I caught them together in his office tonight.” Cee’s eyes widen and you’re quick to continue, waving your fork in the air. “They were just eating dinner,  but the thing is that he specifically told me he was going to stop on his way home and get something, but when I got there, they were already almost done, which means that when we talked, he … he’d already ordered.” That’s shitty. 

Cee stays quiet for a few seconds, thinking. She’s only met your boyfriend once and for a few minutes, but much in the same way she she dislikes Inumon, she wasn’t a fan of him - or the way he’d treated Ezra. It was subtle, the way he’d called attention to Ezra’s injury, but it had prickled the hairs on the back of Cee’s neck in a way that she hadn’t appreciated. “Are you going to ask him about it?” Cee takes another bite, narrowing her eyes. “And do you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

“I’m going to have to.” You shrug, sipping your drink. “Not knowing would be worse, I think.” Exactly. Cee understands that, knows what keeping thoughts and feelings to herself feels like - and how much it can hurt when and if things finally come to a head. Like they did with Damon. Averting her eyes, she sighs, looking down at her plate. “It’s not like he can lie about lying tonight, right? I saw them. And she … she’s never liked me much, so it wouldn’t surprise me, but still. Maybe I’m just overthinking things. We’ve been together for -”

“Look. I’m really young.” Cee sighs. “And I don’t have much relationship experience, but honestly?” I might as well say it. “You’re going to know really fast what kind of person he is no matter what he says.” You look confused and Cee continues. “He might tell you the truth about what you saw, and if anything’s going on, and you can decide what to do next.” Cee raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. “And if he lies, even though you know what you saw? Well that’s as good as an admission, too.” 

You stare at her for a few seconds and then nod, a look of surprise on your face. “You sure you’re only 18, Cee? That’s some pretty adult advice.” Grinning, Cee rolls her eyes and laughs. 

“That’s what Ezra says to me, too. But I’ve been through some shit, so…” You laugh, too, the sound genuine - and it warms Cee from head to toe, even though she knows it's only a brief moment of relief for you. “Maybe I should write a book about it.” 

You both laugh again, and for the rest of dinner, the conversation is lighter. 

— 

After dropping Cee off, you drove home, taking the long way. There weren’t any missed calls or text messages from Robbie, but you knew that he was home - the door alert had gone off when he unlocked it about 45 minutes earlier, and he hadn’t locked it again. So he’s there. 

Meeting Cee had helped to get your mind off of Robbie and Streli’s dinner date, but no matter how good a time you’d had with the girl, it didn’t erase what you knew you’d have to deal with when you got home. You knew that you couldn’t put it off forever, and so when you pulled into the driveway you didn’t sit idly in the car - you walked right in, locking the door behind you. 

Robbie wasn’t in the living room, and so you headed upstairs and toward the bedroom, even though it was still early - only 9 PM. He was there, laying on top of the blankets and watching TV, the man not even turning his head when you entered the room. You waited for him to say something, but he didn’t, his eyes glued to the screen. This is how it’s going to be? “Are you really just going to sit there in silence?”��

Curling your fingers toward your palms, you faced him, and when Robbie turned his head to look at you, you knew that whatever was said between you was going to be worse than you’d imagined. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to explain what you saw tonight? Do you want me to ask where you were? Should I get up and -”

“Either of those is a good place to start, yeah.” Flipping the light switch on, you leaned against the door frame, waiting. “Because I’m willing to listen, Robbie. I’m -”

“Where were you?” He swung his legs off of the bed and then leaned forward, eyes on you. “You left my office hours ago, and -” That’s what you choose to start with? You shouldn’t have expected anything different, but the question hurt nonetheless. “Did you go out somewhere and meet someone?”  

“I did.” You laughed. “To be honest with you, I met Cee for dinner. I initially told her no because I was going to eat with you, but we know how that ended, so -”

“Was he there?” Robbie’s lip curled, the man’s eyes darkening. “Did the three of you -”

“I walked into your office and found you eating dinner with the woman that’s been trying to fuck you since you first got hired, Robbie. You lied to me about working late and what you were doing, and then you’re accusing me of running off and meeting another man? That takes some fuckng balls.” Narrowing your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. “No. Ezra wasn’t there. He was at home with the guys in his band and Inumon, which is why Cee wanted to get out of there in the first place. Not that that’s any of your business, but -” 

“I did work late.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t lie about that.” But nothing about Streli. Nothing about what I said about her wanting to fuck you. “I have been working late. Ever since I applied for the promotion, it’s been stress at work, even though I didn’t think it would be. And you don’t get it. Your job is so different. And it’s easier for me to talk about what I do with -”

“With Streli.” You nodded. “Got it.” Your heart was pounding, and the words that came out next caught him off guard, but you didn’t regret them. “Are you cheating on me?” He recoiled, staying silent. “I know you lied about tonight, and that’s one thing. But I think I deserve the truth about whatever else is going on, too. If you’re sleeping with her, then you obviously aren’t happy with this, and -”

“I am.” He stood, stepping closer to you and saying your name. “I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s only been a few months, but -” It should have shocked you - but it didn’t. As the moments passed, Robbie’s explanation and excuses fading into a dull hum, you realized that the signs had all been there - and you’d ignored them. Him working late. Him always on his phone. Him working so closely with her in the leadup to the promotion. The distance he put between us. His accusations. “Hey, are you listening to -”

“You’re sleeping with another woman, and you have the fucking nerve to get pissed at me for emailing someone about a fucking song they wrote and got to watch a video of?” Uncrossing your arms, you used one hand to rub at your forehead, groaning. “You accuse me of shit that you’re actually doing, and you think it’s OK?” He tried to cut in, the man’s head shaking back and forth, but you didn’t let him, feeling your anger building. “It’s not. It’s not even close to being ok.” You were shaking - fighting to keep yourself from outwardly reacting, and in a final burst of self restraint, you stepped further away from the door before pointing at it. “You need to leave. I don’t care where you go, but if you think that after telling me that you’re sleeping with someone else, I’m going to let you stay here in my house? You’re delusional.” 

“Where am I supposed to go?” He stood, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s almost 10 at night, I -” 

“Go to Streli’s. Go sleep in your office. Go to your parents’ house. I don’t care where you end up, Robbie. I’m done. You’ve apparently been done with me for a couple months now, so it shouldn’t be too heartbreaking for you.” His jaw dropped but you stood firm. “I’ll stand here while you pack a bag. I’m serious. You’re not staying here tonight. We’ll figure out when you can come and get the rest of your stuff in a couple days, but right now, you need to go.”

“You’re kicking me out? We’ve been together for over a year. How -”

“I am.” The fucking nerve he has. “And yeah, we have, haven’t we? But I guess a year means nothing to you. Pack your shit and leave, Robbie. I mean it.” You took a deep breath, staring directly into his eyes. “Get. Out.” He stared at you for a few more seconds and then the man moved toward the closet, yanking the door open and reaching for one of his suitcases. 

It only took him a few minutes to pack it, grabbing clothes from their hangers and stuffing them in before he moved toward the dresser and did the same, muttering under his breath the whole time. You couldn’t tell what he was saying but you knew that he was angry, so you stepped backwards, giving him more space while you watched him. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.” He snapped the suitcase shut, turning his head to look at you. “I’m actually kind of glad you know. Now I don’t have to -”

“Kevva help me, Robbie, I don’t want to fucking hear this. Get. Out.” Raising your voice for the first time, you pointed at the doorway. “Now you don’t have to hide it anymore. You don’t have to sneak around with her. You don’t have to come home and pretend that you care about me or this relationship, so I hope that’s what you wanted.” You laughed, bringing a hand up and chewing on your nail for a few seconds as he watched you. “I hope it was worth it for you.” 

He didn’t say another word as he lifted the suitcase and headed out the door and down the stairs, you close behind. The man paused in the living room, looking around, and then turned back to stare at you. What now? “And I hope that this is worth it for you.” He sneered at you and then he was gone, the door closing behind him. 

Once you heard the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway and disappearing down the street, you let yourself sink down onto the couch, face in your hands. You hadn’t expected him to be so honest, but part of you was thankful that he had been - because it meant that the situation hadn’t been prolonged anymore than it needed to be. What an asshole. You rubbed at your eyes, lifting your head and staring into the darkness.  I knew it. I knew something was up, but I just … didn’t want to believe it. 

You thought of Cee when you stood up, the fact that the girl’s intuition had been right - you’d known immediately upon the man opening his mouth exactly what the truth was. Maybe I’ll tell her sometime. Locking the doors - and changing the code - you made your way back upstairs and into the bedroom, the TV still playing in the otherwise darkened room.  

You’d assumed that that night would be difficult, but when you were ready for bed and had slipped beneath the blankets, turning the TV volume down and closing your eyes, it only took a few minutes for you to fall asleep. 

— 

She hasn’t heard from you since the night you met for dinner, and despite the fact that it’s only been a week, Cee is worried. When you dropped her off, you told her that you’d talk to her soon, and even though Cee understands that you’re probably busy, she doesn’t like the fact that she knows you were going home to confront your boyfriend - and that there’s been radio silence. 

You’ve been online - posting a few things to your social media story and feed, but it’s not anything substantial; just a picture of the sunlight shining through the tree branches outside of what she assumes is your house and a few songs that you’d been listening to. She wants to reach out, but doesn’t want to intrude, the same way that she feels about inserting herself into Ezra’s business any more than she has to. 

But sometimes it’s necessary, like when his phone rings during a physical therapy session and it’s Inumon, the woman’s voice frostier than winter on The Pug. Cee grits her teeth as she listens - and then agrees to - the request for her to let Ezra know that the band needs a decision soon if they’re going to be able to book the show. “He should know more this week or next, Inumon.” Cee sighs out a response, eyes on the hallway that Ezra is down. “About his arm, I mean.” The woman acknowledges this information and then tells Cee to be good before hanging up, and the girl thinks that if she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d probably make it clear across the waiting room. Be good. Who says that? 

But when Ezra returns to the large room and Cee sees the grim expression on his face, she knows that that won’t be the day she relays the message. She gives him his space, the man standing silently beside her as they ride the elevator down and back to the parking area. The silence continues in the car, Ezra sliding into the passenger seat and staring out the window with his lower lip pushed out in a more pronounced pout than usual. When they’re halfway home, Cee can’t help but speak, her eyes still on the road.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His answer is immediate, a single word that cuts through the car’s interior like a laser scalpel. 

“No.” But she isn’t deterred, taking the final turn toward their apartment before she tries again. Because I know he does want to tell me about it. 

“Ezra, I’m going to find out anyway. Just tell me now, and get it off your chest.” His reply is halfway between a laugh and a growl, the man shifting in his seat so that he can look at her. “It can’t be that bad, it -”

“They informed me today that even when my new arm is delivered, it cannot be implemented right away.” What? Why? “The wound I sustained did more damage to my nervous system than the doctors originally thought, and even though they’re hopeful that someday it will be different, right now …” He paused, looking down and then reaching over, his remaining hand rubbing along the covered end of his missing arm. “Right now there would be a rejection failure if it was introduced into my body.” Oh. Oh, that … She grips the steering wheel tightly, remaining quiet until they park, and then the girl looks at him, her lower lip trembling. 

“I’m sorry, Ezra.” She means it, though she doesn’t know what else to say, since she’s already apologized what feels like a hundred times. “It’s only been five months, though. I’m sure … I’m sure that you’re close. And they didn’t say that it would never work, right? Just that it needs a little longer to -”

“How am I supposed to get back on my feet and make music if I cannot even hold a guitar, Birdie?” His tone bitter, Ezra slams his fist down on the dashboard, head whipping back and forth. “How am I supposed to continue my career if my strumming hand is -” 

“Slowly.” Turning the car off and pulling the key from the ignition, she eyes him warily. “No one expects you to be able to play the way you used to right away, Ezra. But you haven’t even tried to play with your temporary arm.” She scoffs. “I bet you could. I bet you can.” You just need to want to.  “And even if you can’t play, you can still write, can’t you?” She leans closer, unblinking. “I listened to Damon making excuses for my whole life. I’m not going to listen to you do the same when I know there’s no real reason for it.” 

She gets out of the car then, slamming the door behind her and heading for the lobby, but it only takes him seconds to follow her, the man calling out her name. She stops, spinning back to face him and when she does, she collides with his body, Ezra’s arm winding around her and pulling her close, the man’s hand pressed against the back of her head as he crushes her to his chest. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles the words into her hair as her arms go around his waist, the two of them standing just beyond the small, grassy area in front of their building. “You are wise beyond your years, little bird, it still surprises me somet -” She laughs; she can’t help it, and when Ezra asks why, she pulls out of his embrace and leads them toward the main doors, clicking the button to lock the car doors behind them. 

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, Ezra.” They ride the elevator up, and she continues, telling him that you said something similar while you were at dinner the previous week. He doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, he asks if she’s heard from you, or if there’s been any update. And it pains her to tell him no, but she does anyway, reminding him of your situation. “She said that it wasn’t going to be a good time when she got home, because she needed to confront her boyfriend. I didn’t like him much, and she’s been online some, but it -” He squeezes her arm as they reach their door, the man finally speaking up. 

“I admit that he didn’t make the best impression, Cee, but maybe …” Ezra pauses, stepping into the apartment and bending over to undo his bootlaces. “Maybe her silence is for the best?” How? What? “They might just be taking the time to work things out between them.” Maybe. But Cee isn’t convinced, the girl flopping down onto the couch and pulling her phone out, even as Ezra makes his way into the kitchen, opening the cabinets one by one. “Should we order something to eat tonight? You cooked yesterday, and …” She’s listening as he begins, but as she scrolls through her newsfeed, Cee sees an update from you from about an hour earlier - a picture of you standing in front of an empty closet with a smile on your face captioned “Got rid of half of everything in my house today … and I didn’t have to touch any of it.” 

Cee sits straight up and gasps, her eyes going wide as she rereads the caption, and Ezra immediately moves from the kitchen and back into the living room, asking if she’s ok. “I’m fine.” Her smile grows, the girl turning the screen so that he can see it too. “I think I know why she hasn’t said anything, Ezra.” Good. Good for her. She looks over at him, watching as Ezra’s eyes lock in on the picture of you, one side of his mouth lifting in the smirk that she hadn’t seen in weeks.  Hmm. He nods, his attention moving from the device to her, and when Ezra speaks again, she hears the amusement in his voice, her cheeks turning red at the compliment he gives her. 

“She must have taken your advice to heart, Cee… and that makes a strong case for me to do the same.” He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Now. Let’s pick something to eat before it gets too late.”

— 

The following weekend, Cee emerges from a shower, toweling her hair off as she heads into the main living space. To her surprise, she finds Ezra fully dressed and leaning against the counter, his phone in one hand. “Are you going somewhere?” She doesn’t mean to sound so surprised, but she can’t help it - his hair is clean and somewhat styled, and the shirt he’s wearing isn’t one of the comfortable undershirts that he’s favored since the accident. Instead, it’s a short-sleeved one, the covering on the end of his arm not the one that’s meant to sit inside of the prosthetic. “You look…” She blinks, fighting back a smile. “You look like yourself, Ezra.” 

“I feel more like myself today, Birdie.” He sets the phone down and straightens up, wetting his lips. “And I am going somewhere, but we need to talk for a few minutes first.” Suddenly wary, she lets him lead her to the couch, sitting next to him and waiting, mind racing. “I… am going somewhere tonight, and it’s somewhere that I should have gone weeks ago.” She waits, eyes on his face. “I’m meeting the others to let them know that I want to do the show.” He looks down, taking a deep breath. “But it’s not just going to be a benefit for Luke’s family.” 

“What?” On one hand, she’s thrilled that he’s going to play music again, but on the other, she doesn’t understand who else the amount raised could be for. “Ezra, wh -”

“It’s for you, too, little bird.” He reaches over, settling a hand on her knee and staring straight into her eyes. “And before you -”

“I don’t need charity.” She tries to keep the anger out of her voice and mostly succeeds, but she knows that he still hears it - that he can probably see it in her eyes. “I’m not -”

“It’s not charity. Just give me a moment to -” He sighs, closing his eyes. “You were supposed to continue on after our tour was over. You had another job lined up. And yet here you are, months later, staying here to take care of me.” He says her name and she forces herself to look at him again, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control her breathing. “It isn’t a handout, Cee. It’s going to take the place of the amount you would have earned if you’d been able to go to your next job, and hopefully give you a little breathing room until -”

“Ezra, I didn’t…” She trails off, looking down at the floor. He doesn’t need to do this. He shouldn’t do this. “Your medical bills are … you need the -”

“My medical bills are already taken care of.” He lifts his hand, waving it through the air. “I have been very careful with what I’ve earned, Cee. And the accident led to a surge in sales. Don’t you worry about me.” He sighs and then clears his throat. “I’ve already told you that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want, but I know that it won’t be forever. And I want to make sure that when you decide to go, you’re going to be alright.” Damon would never. He never even… 

“But he had kids. They need -” Ezra shakes his head, lips pressed together. 

“Trust me on this. There’s plenty of funds to be made with just one show. More than enough to go around.” She wants to believe him - wants to believe that she won’t feel guilty accepting the proceeds from the benefit along with what goes to the other man’s family. But I won’t know until it happens. “Let me do this for you, little bird. Helping Luke’s family is one thing, but knowing that I’ve made a difference in your life is …”

“You already have.” She smiles at that, the assertion genuine. “And …” She looks up, focusing on the ceiling and then back on him, nodding. “Ok. I accept. But only if I  -”

“No. You’re not going to be sitting behind a table at the show selling t-shirts. You’re going to watch it.” He smiles - a wide one, though it’s still not as brilliant as the ones she knows he’s capable of. “I’ll know more details after tonight, but …” Ezra sighs, his hand lifting to scratch the side of his head. “But I guess this is going to happen.” Good. This is good. 

“Are you just going out with the guys in The Fringe tonight?” She leans back against the arm of the couch, eyes on him. “To figure out -’

“Yes. Them and Inumon. We’re going out for dinner to talk over the details, and then we might have a drink or two before I come home.” She barely hides her wince at the mention of the woman’s name, but Ezra’s eyes are on the clock across the room, so he doesn’t notice. “She says she has some ideas for a tribute for Damon and Luke, so -” What? 

“That’s funny.” Cee rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Last time she was in the same room with Damon, she didn’t want anything to do with him, and now -”

“What?” She realizes what she’s said too late, the girl’s eyes going wide. Shit. Shit, oh shit. “I thought that they were fri-”

“They were friends.” Cee sighs. “If that’s what you call it.” This isn’t how I wanted to tell him. She’s been keeping it quiet for months because with Damon gone, there was no reason to dwell on it. “Ezra, they dated for like … three months at the beginning of the year. She ended things right around the time you announced your tour.” His eyes narrow as she speaks, but the man stays quiet. “I thought you knew at first, but then Damon told me that you didn’t, so…” 

“They what?” He blinks slowly, sitting up straight. “I was not aware of that. Neither of them …” He trails off, averting his eyes. “Is that why you don’t like her? Why Damon always …” He’s confused and trying to quickly work through the revelation, and Cee reacts as fast as she can, repositioning herself on the couch so that she can face him when she speaks. Of course they didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t like her, Ezra, because she’s not a good person. She treated me like a kid back then, and she still does. When she ended things with him, she said it was because being with someone on tour was going to be too hard, so they needed to cool it for a while, and then …”

“And then she tried to … with me.” He swears under his breath. “Cee, I had no idea that it was -”

“I know.” She laughs, the sound bitter. “And it wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been leading him on. But when it came out that the two of you had gone out a few times together, he didn’t … he didn’t take it well, and he confronted her over it.” Cee sighs, remembering the conversations vividly, Damon’s raised voice countered by the woman’s calm one as she tried to convince him that he had nothing to worry about, that it was just because she’d known Ezra for a long time. “She told him that being seen with you was just to sell tickets, Ezra. And I think he believed it, because he kept saying that when both of them weren’t on the road anymore…” 

“The Mercs were a day behind us in a few cities on the tour.” He sighs, covering his face with his hand. “Two days after the accident was the first one, actually. We made plans to stay there for an extra night so that we could watch their show. Damon was unhappy at the thought …” Ezra swears again, standing, and suddenly Cee’s heart is hammering in her chest, her mouth dropping open. He knew? So Damon knew that he’d have to see the two of them together? 

“Ezra, are you saying -” He spins on his heel, facing her again and shaking his head back and forth. 

“I’m not saying anything.” But he’s saying it without actually speaking the words, and they both know it. Damon knew. Damon knew and that’s why he … “Forget it, Cee. No matter what the whole truth might be, the fact is that Damon made his choice. I made it very clear that I wasn’t looking for anything long term with her, that we were just playing it up for the publicity and having some fun.” He swipes at his beard, groaning. “But now that I think about it, maybe that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, either.” 

She feels dizzy, closing her eyes and swallowing hard as Ezra speaks. He never knew how to handle himself. He never knew how to cope without the drops, and the thing with Inumon probably didn’t help. It … he … “Ezra, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t help, and -”

“It does help, though.” Ezra kneels in front of her, reaching out with his hand and squeezing one of hers. “It makes it clear as pure aurelac that I made at least one right decision when it came to her and I.” Damn straight. “You did nothing wrong. I’ll deal with this.” He’s frowning and she doesn’t like the expression on his face, but she knows there’s nothing else she can do. 

“Are you going to be ok seeing her tonight? You’re not -”

“It’ll be fine.” He nods. “I can be cordial when I need to be. And this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Luke’s family and putting on a good show.” He winks. “I can play nice for a few weeks, Birdie, as long as the reward is worth my time.” She knows that it’s the truth, and after a quick pause, she nods in his direction, letting out a long sigh. “Good. That’s what I want to see.” Ezra stands, looking at the clock again. “What are you going to do tonight?’

“Nothing.” She points at the screen on the opposite wall. “Maybe I’ll order some pizza and watch a movie.” He nods at that, and she cocks her head to one side, thinking. “Where are you going, and will you need me to pick you up? You said you’d be drinking, so -”

“I can always call a car if I need one.” He shrugs. “Not a problem.” 

“Neither is me coming to get you.” She grins - a real one - and continues. “And you won’t even have to pay me, so that’s an automatic win for you.” His laugh is quiet, and when they lock eyes again, she sees that he’s still a little unsettled by the things she told him about Damon and Inumon, though he’s trying to hide it. “Just tell me where you’ll be, Ezra. I can come and get you.” 

He tells her the name of the restaurant, and it’s one she knows well - one of his favorites. It’s close, too. “I won’t be late.” He winks, reaching for his phone. “Zed’s here, though. I’ll send you a message when - and if - I need a way home.” She tells him that that’s fine, and to have a good time, and when the man disappears through the front door, she collapses back onto the couch, turning her head toward one of the pillows. 

She screams into it, the sound muffled, and when Cee rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, she feels even worse. It doesn’t matter what Ezra tells her; she knows the truth. It may not be the only reason that Damon chose to use heavily while on the tour, but Inumon and Ezra’s actions likely contributed to it - and the fact that she was going to be present only a few days later had likely led to an increased use on the night of the accident. Because he didn’t know what else to do. She covers her face with both hands, and while she feels a dull ache in her chest at the realization that once again, Damon’s decisions are the cause of suffering - something she hadn’t even allowed herself to think of before that night - there’s no surprise. 

He was always selfish, she thinks. It was always about him. Sitting up again, Cee stares at the wall, her hands braced on the cushions on either side of her body. This time, other people had to pay the price, too. 

She only gives herself a few seconds to dwell on it and then Cee does exactly what she told Ezra she was going to do - orders food and settles in to watch a movie while she waits for it to arrive. But once she’s done eating, her attention drifts and the girl picks up her phone, deciding to check her feed. 

There’s a new post from you - a picture of you out at a restaurant with a female friend that she’s seen a few times before in pictures and stories, but the caption is what catches the girl’s attention. 

Can’t decide where else to go tonight. Any suggestions? 

She smiles when she realizes that you’re likely out for the first time after your breakup - and looking for a good time with your friend. But maybe… The idea comes to her quickly, the girl opening up your text message and typing. 

Saw your post. If you’re still looking for a place, there’s one that Ezra loves. 

Cee bites her lip as she sends it, thinking. He’s going to need a distraction from the band and Inumon, and she’ll… she only got to talk to him for a few minutes when we saw her, so… She sees that you’re typing back, but before you can answer, she sends over the name of the restaurant that Ezra’s at, her earlier bad mood fading as she stares at the small screen, watching as a series of texts from you comes in. 

Oh yeah? What is it? 

We’re actually right down the street from that place. I’ve never been there. 

Jillian says it’s a winner. Thanks for the suggestion! 

Cee nearly squeals at that - tapping one foot on the floor and nodding her head rapidly. Perfect. She contemplates messaging Ezra to let him know, but thinks twice about it when she imagines the look of surprise on both of your faces when you see each other. That’s a better option. She’s grinning when she stands, still looking at her phone to see if you’ll say anything else. She doesn’t know you well enough to know if you’d approach Ezra if you saw him, but she does know the man. And he’ll walk right up. 

Her phone buzzes as she’s putting away her leftovers, and once Cee closes the door of the refrigerator and pulls it out, she can’t keep the smile off of her face - or stop herself from sending a grinning face to you in reply. 

Heading there now.  

— 

“This place is packed tonight!” Jillian spoke into your ear as she squeezed your bare arm. “You’ll have to thank your friend for recommending it.” My friend? I guess that’s what we are. She nodded, her eyes scanning the crowd, which was much busier than the last place you’d been. “I’m going to go and get us another round. Keep the table?” You nodded in reply, keeping your eyes on your friend as she weaved through the people and headed for the bar. When she disappeared, you finally looked back down at your almost empty drink. 

It was strange to be out without Robbie - and even stranger to feel so indifferent about it, but you liked the feeling. Because it means that ending it was the right thing to do. Your ex hadn’t tried to reach out more than once or twice in the days following your confrontation, and by the time you’d given him options for coming to get his stuff out of your house, it seemed like he’d gotten the hint entirely. 

You didn’t know where he was staying - and you didn’t really care. Thanks to Jillian’s husband’s help, it had only taken a few hours for Robbie to get everything packed and out of your place, the two men making quick work of the hastily packed boxes and bags. The house didn’t feel as empty as you thought it would, and you were thankful for that, too. But I lived by myself for years, so I guess I’m not too surprised. 

After taking another drink through the small straw, you raised your eyes at the sound of a loud cheer from one corner of the room - over in the VIP section - and what you saw froze you in place. Is that … “Hey, you’re not going to believe this, but I think -”

“Ezra’s here.” You cut Jillian off, nodding. “The whole band is. They’re over in the corner.”  After setting your drinks down, she slid back into her seat, watching you. “How did -” 

“Zed just ordered a round of drinks next to me.” Jillian kept her eyes on you, waiting. “How did you figure it out?”

“They all cheered just now.” You shrugged. “ He must have brought the drinks back. I happened to look up when I heard it, and saw … them.” Saw him. Saw him actually smiling. But you’d also seen who he was sitting next to, and that took away some of the thrill. “It seems like they’re having a good time, and I’m glad. He needs it.”

“Wait, didn’t Cee tell you to come here tonight?” Jillian raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “That has to -” She did. “You should walk over and say hi.” 

“No. I’m not walking over to the VIP area, Jillian. That’ll just look desperate.” You pointed. “Look. Someone’s trying to talk to them, and…” She turned her head following your eyeline, and both of you watched as two people - a man and a woman - approached, trying to get the attention of the group. 

For the most part, the band ignored them, but you watched with some surprise as Ezra’s head rose, the man giving the two a quick nod and a small smile before he looked away - and in the direction of your table. You tried to avert your eyes but didn’t do it quickly enough and even from across the room, saw recognition in them, the man giving you a nod, too, his smile growing. “Shit.”  Breaking eye contact, you looked down at the table. 

“Well I don’t think you’ll have to walk over there now.” Jillian turned back to look at you, grinning as she took a long drink. “He definitely saw you.” Yeah. He did.  You didn’t know what good it would do, though - Ezra didn’t have anything but your email address, and you didn’t think that he’d leave the roped off area just to come say hello. He looks like he’s having a good time with them. I hope he is. “Are you going to ask her about this? I would.” Jillian took another drink, tucking her hair behind one ear and leaning forward. “Now I’m curious about why she suggested this place out of all of the -”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.” You heard him speak at the same time as you felt his presence next to you, and before you could stop yourself, you turned your head toward the sound. He trimmed his beard. And his hair doesn’t look as messy. Smiling up at Ezra, you opened your mouth to answer, but Jillian beat you to it - extending her left hand. 

“I’m Jillian.” He took her hand, pumping it up and down a few times before releasing it and then letting his rest on the table next to you. “And no, I’ve been here before, but this is her first time here. We’re celebrating.” Stop it. He doesn’t want to - 

“If you’re celebrating the occasion that I think you’re celebrating, then you’ll let me buy you a drink.” Ezra met your eyes again, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Cee showed me a picture that you posted last week.” Of course she did. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends, Ezra.” You gestured with your chin at the group in the corner, finding that Inumon was watching the the interaction with some apprehension on her face. “Or from -”

“You’re keeping me from nothing.” He paused, eyes narrowing briefly as he looked back over his shoulder. The motion gave you a chance to glance at Jillian, the woman’s fingers moving over her phone screen. What are you doing? “To be truthful, I could use a break from them. We’ve been talking business all night, and -”

“I’m actually getting a phone call.” Jillian interrupted, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, it’s too loud here.” Before either of you could say anything, the woman darted away from the table and toward the door, leaving you and Ezra alone. Subtle. Really… subtle. 

“Do you want to sit, Ezra?” Pointing at the seat your friend just vacated, you smiled at him. “She might be gone for a while.” 

‘I think that was the point.” He smiled again as he sat, and for the first time, you were able to look at him freely - from two feet away away instead of  from in the crowd while he was onstage and lit from behind, or from 20 feet across a dark barroom. “Can I ask you a question?” His voice interrupted your thoughts, the man’s head cocked to one side - but you nodded, waiting. “You’ve never been here before, really? This place is very -” He wrinkled his nose, and you watched as the remaining portion of his right arm moved, like he was raising it. But after only a few seconds, he lowered it, swearing under his breath. “I’m still getting used to …” You nodded once, eyes on him. 

“I’ve never been here before, no. Jillian - my friend - comes here a lot, and so when Cee suggested it, we -”

“Cee?” His demeanor changed again, the man grinning as he leaned in. “Cee suggested that you come here tonight?” You didn’t want to implicate the girl, but you also didn’t want to lie, so you nodded, your own smile tugging on your lips. “Oh, that girl. That girl is …” He chuckled, lowering his chin toward the table. “Well, I hope you have a good time.” He lifted his left arm, using that hand to ruffle the hair at the back of his neck as he looked at you again. “It would appear that you are.”

“Yeah.” Lifting your drink to take a sip through the straw, you nodded. “This place is better than where we were before.” You looked around the room again, eyes passing over the corner where Ezra’s group was still sitting before you focused on him, deciding to be honest again. “And it’s good to see you.” His eyes widened but he didn’t look away, instead arching a brow. “Out in public, I mean. Cee told me that you’ve been mostly staying at home unless you go places with her, so…” You shrugged. “You look like you’re having fun, too.” 

“I am now.” Ezra tapped his fingers against the tabletop, nodding. “Don’t tell anyone, but we’re here planning a show.” A show? “A benefit. For Cee and for Luke… Number Two’s family.” He sighed. “It should have been planned sooner, but I wasn’t … ready.” His words made sense to you, but you heard Ezra’s tone, understanding that he didn’t like to admit to his hesitation, even if it was the truth. “Someone else will have to fill in on guitar, but I think I’m still good to sing a few of my favorites.”

“I’ll be the first to buy a ticket.” Finishing your drink, you wiped your lips with the back of one knuckle. “As soon as they go on sa-”

‘No, you won’t.” Ezra shook his head, saying your name for the first time that night, the sound of it coming out of his mouth catching you by surprise. What? “What you’ve done for Cee, and what you gave me with that video you sent over is worth more to us than the cost of a ticket. You don’t need to worry about buying one. I’ll get you in.” 

“Ezra, you don’t -” But the man stood, shaking his head back and forth without looking away. 

“That’s not an argument that you’ll win. Not with me.” He licked his lips, tongue moving slowly over them, and even though you tried not to stare, you couldn’t help it. He has to have seen that. There’s no way he missed it. “How about that drink?” Ezra leaned in again, eyes still focused on your face. “Not only to celebrate the end of a relationship, but maybe …” He squinted at you briefly and then nodded, the smile returning to his face. “To celebrate the beginning of a new friendship?” With him? This is … 

“Ezra, I’m sorry that Robbie was an asshole to you. The whole handshake thing? His attitude? He shouldn’t have been that way with you, especially since -”

“You owe me no apologies for his behavior. I’ve known many men like him” Ezra rolled his eyes. “But if you’re going to apologize for that, then I feel like I should apologize for Cee. She means well, but she… she’s still very young, and doesn’t always … think things through.” 

“You mean tonight?” He nodded. “Oh, I think that she thought this through.” Leaning back in your seat, you watched him closely. “I think she wants us to be friends, Ezra.” Reaching out, you grasped the straw in your drink between two fingers, swirling it through the remaining ice and the little bit of liquid left in the bottom. Go for it. He said he’d get you into a show for free, and that he wanted to buy you a drink to celebrate making a new friend. You’ve got nothing to lose. That wasn’t entirely true, but it didn’t stop you from saying anything further. “And I’d like that, Ezra. You buying me a drink? As long as it won’t …” Your eyes flicked over toward the VIP section and you hoped he’d understand what you were insinuating. “Be a problem.” 

His eyes lit up - you saw it clearly in the muted glow from overhead, and when Ezra spoke next, his voice had dropped, the rasp much more pronounced. “It is a bold offer, I know.” He took a breath, holding eye contact with you. “But I am thrilled to hear that you accept.” His smile grew, spreading over his face until you could see the dimple in his cheek, even through the dark hair of his beard. “And there isn’t a problem. I am just as unattached at the moment as you are.” Before you had a chance to respond, he tapped his fingers against the table and cleared his throat. “Now, tell me what you’d like me to order to drink so I can make it happen.” 

Somewhat stunned, you stammered out a drink order and Ezra turned from the table, heading for the bar and leaving you seated. Shit, I didn’t tell him what Jillian was drinking, and she might - “Where’d he go?” Your friend’s return to the table was quick and quiet, both of her brows raised. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here all alone this entire time.”

“He’s….” You blinked in an attempt to gather your thoughts and then took a deep breath. “He’s at the bar, getting drinks, and I think he was flirting with me, Jillian, he - “ 

“You should go help him.” She spoke quietly. “It’s going to be a little difficult for him to carry multiple drinks back here.” Shit, you’re right. You stood, searching for Ezra’s head - and his blonde patch - in the crowd of people. “I’ll watch the table.” 

Cutting away from her and following the path Ezra took, you found him only a few seconds later, the man patiently waiting his turn to order. “Ezra.” He turned to look at you as you approached, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, gently touching the back of his right shoulder to let him know where you were. “Jillian came back, said you might need help carrying the drinks, so she’d watch the table.”

“I will need help.” His smile was sad, but it didn’t linger long, quickly replaced with one that was friendlier. “Thank you.” You told him not to mention it, and when you realized that your hand was still on his back, you pulled it away, apologizing. “Why are you apologizing? That’s the best way to get my attention here.” 

“Because we basically just met, and I don’t know you, and …” The woman in front of him moved out of the way and Ezra stepped forward, ordering himself a drink and then ordering yours before turning his head and asking what Jillian wanted. “Oh, um… just the same thing as the second drink.” You nodded at the bartender, eyes on her as she turned and started grabbing things to make the order for you. “I’ve seen a couple of your shows, Ezra, how people grab at you if you get near the crowd, and I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You are not.” He turned to the side, the right side of his body next to the bar, and then beckoned you closer. “And like I said, a hand on my shoulder is very different.” His drink was ready and he slid it closer to himself, nodding in thanks. “I would tell you if what you were doing bothered me.” You believed him - you had no reason not to, and so you decided to drop it, attention moving from him to the ice-filled glasses on the bartop. “I’m going to have to go back over to my friends in a few minutes.” Ezra sighed, leaning against the bar but keeping his eyes on you. “Even though I’d much prefer not to.” What? “I’d like to make you another offer.” 

“Another offer? What?” Blinking quickly, you looked between him and the woman as she slid the other two drinks toward you, asking Ezra how he wanted to pay. 

“Put them on my tab.” He pointed with one finger at himself. “Ezra. I’m over in the -”

“I’ve got you.” The woman winked at him. “I know who you are.” He laughed and nodded, thanking her before the two of you turned away from the bar and made your way back to the table. You still had no idea what he was going to offer - or ask of you - and you didn’t know if he was still going to make it in front of Jillian.

“We come bearing drinks!” Ezra spoke up over the conversation around your table, and you reached out to hand your friend her glass. “We’ll make a toast and then I’ll head back over to my friends so the two of you can continue your night.” Jillian’s laugh was loud, and as she raised her glass, she looked first at you and then at the man, grinning. 

“A toast to my friend finally getting rid of all the dead weight.” You watched Ezra’s lips twitch, but he stayed quiet, waiting. “And -”

“A toast to moving forward,” you continued, looking straight at Ezra. “Even when it’s hard.” His eyes widened, a glint in them that you hadn’t seen yet, and when Ezra interjected, you understood what he’d meant about making an offer. 

“To new friends and not relying on a teenager to put us in contact again.” You laughed hard at that, nodding. To new friends. As he swallowed, he kept his eyes on you and when you set your drink down, he winked, doing the same with his and then reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. “I’m going to give you my phone number. Use it if you want to. And if you don’t… well, I guess maybe then I’ll just have to keep bothering Cee when I get curious about how you’re doing.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but his words gave you pause. Keep bothering her? Does that mean he’s asked before? “I’ll give you mine, too.” You opened the camera and then scanned his code, the number autosaving into your address book. “And if you don’t want to use it, then -”

“You can stop right there.” He said your name, waiting until you’d set your phone back on the table, code on display on the screen. “Because I plan on using it.” He tapped a few times on the screen after holding it over your phone and then showed you once he’d saved your number. “Have a good rest of your night.” 

“We will. Thanks for the drinks.” Jillian raised her glass again and Ezra nodded, first at her and then at you. But before he walked away, he gave you a small smile - followed by another wink - and then, drink in hand, he turned back toward his group of friends. Once he was far enough away, Jillian reached out, her hand gripping your wrist. “What the fuck was that? He -” 

“I don’t know.” You sipped your drink again, focusing on your friend. “That was … weird. Really weird. Kevva, Jillian, he -” 

“Isn’t he here with that woman that -” 

“He said he was single.” You took a drink, shaking your head slowly. “Inumon’s here with them, but he said he was just as unattached as I was, so I don’t …” You looked down and then back at her, noticing that she was watching in the direction of Ezra’s table. “Stop staring, Jillian, you -”

“I’m not staring, just … observing.” She looked back at you, her smile sly. “That’d be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to Robbie, hmm?” She took another drink and then bit her lip. “That kind of an upgrade?” You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you ducked your head, trying not to even think about what she was suggesting. 

“That isn’t why I would … I don’t want to…” He did make it a point to tell me that he wasn’t with her. And he was the one that offered his number. “We’ll see what happens, I guess.” You took another sip, shrugging your shoulders. “We’ll see if he actually uses my number or if he was just trying to be nice because he was right here.” She rolled her eyes at you, but didn’t say anything else about it. 

Instead, you and Jillian spent the remainder of your time at the bar laughing together about other things, her presence helping you to relax completely for the first time since your breakup. By the time you left, catching a ride back to your house after saying goodnight to her in front of the building, you’d decided that you were going to reach out to Cee about her not so subtle manipulation. But not because I’m upset. 

You washed the makeup from your face and changed into pajamas, padding through your house and into the kitchen for something to snack on. As the microwave ran, you thumbed open her text thread, eyes on the screen. It was late, but not too late, so you typed out your message and pressed send.

Thank you for the suggestion tonight, Cee. You were right. I did like it. And it was nice to talk to Ezra for a few minutes… it was almost like you knew he was going to be there or something. 

The timer went off and you set your phone down, pulling your food out. I want to know how she’s going to reply. After sticking a fork into the bowl, you saw that the screen was lighting up, and so you grabbed for the device, still smiling. 

Or something. Glad you had fun. 

There was nothing else you needed to say, so you set it back down and ate the food you’d made, replaying the conversation with Ezra in your head. He approached me. He offered drinks. He told me about the show and offered me a ticket. You rinsed the bowl out, setting it in the sink. He gave me his number. 

You didn’t know if you’d use it, but just having it was exciting for a reason that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was there, saved in your phone, waiting. You wondered if he’d tell Cee that you’d exchanged contact information, or if he’d keep it to himself, and because of that, you decided not to tell her about it unless she asked you directly. Because there’s nothing to tell and if he wants her to know … He’ll make it happen. 

You weren’t an idiot; you knew that Ezra’s life was very different from your own. Being able to contact him was very different than being in contact with him. But he said he wanted to be friends. He said - 

Your phone buzzed in your hand just as you reached your bedroom, and before you could stop yourself from looking, you raised it enough to see the screen. 

I hope you made it home safely, my friend. Tonight was a pleasant surprise, and hopefully we can make it happen again. 

Your fingers tightened around the phone, teeth digging into your lower lip as you tried to decide how to respond. Your thoughts were interrupted, though, by another message coming through. 

Maybe not by surprise, though. 

You laughed out loud, closing your eyes. “Oh, fuck.” You still didn’t want to get your hopes up, but as you typed a reply back to Ezra, you couldn’t help it. 

I’m home, about to get in bed. And I’d like that. 

A few seconds later a reply came back - and even though it was just a single winking emoji, your intake of breath was audible. 

—

Tag list coming separately! 

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Crucible

PAIRING: Thor X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2686

WARNINGS: feelings of depression.

SUMMARY: After Thanos is defeated, all the heroes are reunited with their loved ones - but Thor seems to be avoiding his.

A/N: I decided to rectify the lack of Thor fics situation so if you have any ideas — SHOOT!

After the First Snap

Thanos was gone, and all around him, Thor's friends were disappearing.

Everyone was panicked. Steve was glued to the ground where Bucky had vanished, the words “Oh, God,” tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

Natasha didn’t know where to look or where to go.

Thor was shaking as he looked down at Stormbreaker.

“You should’ve gone for the head.”

The words rang in his ears, each one like one of Loki’s daggers in his side. He failed. And now everyone else was paying the price.

Through the commotion, only one name came to mind. It tugged on his heart and the thought of what might happen to her nearly collapsed him to the ground. He had to go and find her.

“I need to get to New York. Now.”

***

Thor didn’t wait for the jet to land. He jumped out mid-air and ran to her house while the Avengers — what was left of them — returned to the Avengers facility to explain to the higher-ups what the hell was going on.

Standing in front of her door, Thor realised that he was terrified to find out if his fears had come true. He couldn't stand to lose anyone else.

He could hear voices from the TV which offered him a bit of hope and allowed him be brave and knock on her door. Soft raps quickly turned into his fist pounding against the door.

No answer.

He gripped the handle and twisted it until the lock broke, then pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the house.

“Y/N?”

No answer.

His heart was beating out of his chest now and his hands began to do something they never had before: sweat.

He walked past the doorway and into the living room, noting that the TV was on but seconds away from powering off due to inactivity. On the coffee table was a half-eaten pack of crisps and the TV remote.

She wasn’t the type to leave half-eaten snacks on the coffee table and leave.

Thor swallowed and walked around the couch where her phone was sitting on the armrest. He placed his hand against the pillow leaning against it. Still warm. He began to panic.

"Y/N, it's me. Thor."

No answer.

"I know we haven't seen each other in a while," his voice wavered, "But I'm back now. I'm planning to stay here for a while."

He wanted to go and look in her bedroom, her kitchen – anywhere – but deep down he knew. He knew there was no one to be found. The realisation hit him like a crushing weight on top of him. His hand gripped the armrest so tight that the wood inside splintered and cut through the leather of the couch.

Just then, her phone began to ring. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID: her mum.

Thor's throat tightened as he debated whether to answer the call. He knew why she was calling, of course he knew. For the same reason he'd travelled halfway across the globe. She wanted to know if her daughter was okay. But he simply couldn't bring himself to pick up. Not when he was still coming to grips with it himself.

Eventually the phone stopped ringing and her lock screen appeared. A photo of herself and Thor from the last time he'd visited. He'd promised to come more often. It'd been years since he made that promise – since he'd even been on Earth.

And now she was gone.

***

Five Years Later

You open your eyes to find yourself laying on the couch.

The TV is off, as are the lights and it's dark. You must've slept through the whole day. It's quite an achievement considering you were only planning to nap for an hour or two.

You begin to feel around on the armrest for your phone, but it's nowhere to be found. With a heavy sigh, you get up and walk across the room to turn on the light, only to let out a horrified gasp.

The first thing you notice is that the house is clean.

Extremely clean.

It doesn't look like a house that's been lived in, more like the version of a house you see when you're planning to buy or rent it. The packet of crisps you were eating before you fell asleep is gone, the floor is practically shining, and even your slippers are neatly straightened out against a wall on the other side of the room.

It's not like you're a slob or anything, but this is certainly not how the house looked earlier. Was it?

You rush up the stairs when you decide that your house has definitely been broken in to. Oddly enough, it doesn't seem like anything's been stolen, just moved around and...cleaned?

Finally, you find your phone in your bedside table. You click it on only to be greeted with that empty battery sign.

How?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash outside followed by screams. Without a second thought, you run down the stairs and out of the house to investigate.

It seems like the whole street had the same idea as you because all your neighbours are out on the streets too. All around you, there's people screaming and hugging and crying. Then there's you, standing in the middle of all that chaos looking lost.

You grab the arm of a boy racing past you, "Hey, do you know what's going on?"

"They're back!" his smile is as bright as a thousand suns, "They're all coming back!"

The boys charges down the street and launches himself into the arms of an older couple who are sobbing.

The brief interaction does nothing to help your confusion. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your next door neighbour, Elizabeth, standing at her front porch, taking in all the madness.

“Lizzie!”

Her eyes widen when she notices you running up to her. You must look a mess dressed in sweats and barefoot on the streets. She looks different though. Her hair is shorter and she looks slightly older, but you attribute that to tiredness.

“Lizzie, thank God,” you sigh when you reach her, “What the hell is going on? I think someone broke into my house, and there’s all this craziness going on, I just can’t—“

That’s when you see it. Lizzie’s baby bump. It’s small. If you were to guess you'd say she’s about 5 months along, but it’s there. Clear as day.

You step back in shock. It was only yesterday that you saw her, and you didn’t notice any bump at the time. Is it possible you simply didn’t see it?

“Oh my God, Liz,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching out to touch her belly, “I didn’t even realise…”

Without warning, she launches into your arms and hugs you tightly. You stand there awkwardly for a second before hesitantly hugging her back.

“I missed you so much, Y/N!”

You chuckle as you let her go, “What do you mean? We spoke on the phone last night.”

Her eyes suddenly fill with an overwhelming amount of sadness. Immediately you know that something is horribly wrong. Your smile falls and your heart begins to pound.

“Y/N…that was five years ago.”

***

It's been twelve long days since everyone came back. Finding out that you lost five years of your life was shocking enough, but it wasn't comparable to the pain of learning that your mother passed away during that time.

Life on a micro-scale has grown quiet. Everyone is locked in their reunion bubble for the time being, soaking up as much time as they can with each other before the world begins attempting a return to normalcy. You too would choose to live in that bubble right now – if you'd been offered the choice.

"Why doesn't he want to see me?"

Bruce Banner is sitting beside you just outside your house. Of course, he doesn't look like Bruce, which is exactly why you're sitting outside. He can't fit through your doorway.

"He does want to see you. Trust me."

After Lizzie filled you in on the more important things you'd missed, including the death of your mother, Thor was the first person you tried to reach. He didn't have a phone though, so you tried the three avengers whose numbers you did have. Bruce was the only one who answered.

When you begged him to put Thor on the phone, he refused to take the call. That hurt. Deeply.

You've been back almost two weeks now and Thor refuses to come and see you or even speak to you on the phone.

“I don’t get it," you say as you shake your head, "He makes sure my house is paid for and cleaned for five years. And now that I’m back, he doesn’t even want to talk to me?”

Bruce sighs heavily,“Thor…He’s been through a lot. He’s not the same.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes when he speaks, and hear the pity in his voice. What could he be keeping from you?

"Different how?" you ask, “What happened?”

He stretches uncomfortably and scratches the back of his neck.

“I really think he wants to tell you that himself," he says, "He just needs some time, that's all.”

"Look, five years is a long time, okay? I get it," you laugh to mask the pain as you rise to your feet, "If he's done with me then that's fine, but I wanna know that he's okay. And..."

Bruce watches as tears start to roll down your cheeks unexpectedly. You cover your face with your hands to compose yourself. When you open your eyes, Bruce is standing – well, towering above you with a comforting hand – or rather, finger on your shoulder.

"I just need him, okay? More than ever," you whisper, then crane your neck up to look at him, "Will you tell him that?"

"I promise."

***

That night, you turn off your bedside lamp intending to go to sleep when you hear the sound of your bedroom floorboards creaking. You flick the light on to find Thor emerging from the shadows. The light from the lamp is too dim for you to see him properly, but from what you can make out, he is shrouded in various articles of clothing and half his face is covered by a beard that goes past his chest.

He steps forward cautiously, gone is his usual confident stride. When he sits on your bed, just beside your legs, you debate whether to feign anger towards him for ignoring you all these days. But even without the five years you missed, it has still been years since you've seen him.

Almost instinctively, you throw yourself into his arms, your thick blanket sandwiched between the two of you. He nestles his head into your neck, breathing you in as he grips you tighter.

"Why didn't you come sooner?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against your hair, "I'm so sorry."

You stay like that in each other's arms for some time. When you pull apart, Thor's large hands immediately cradle your face carefully. He seems afraid, like he's staring at a ghost. The love and adoration he's always had for you is clear in his eyes, but this fear is new and unfamiliar.

It breaks your heart.

"Thor," you whisper as you brush the hair out of his face and stroke his cheek, "Tell me what happened."

They are words that were yet to be spoken to him. Until now. And for a moment, he doesn't know how to respond. How does he put this kind of pain into words?

You take his hands in yours and move closer to him as he takes his time.

“I lost…everything.”

His voice breaks when he finally speaks, and he looks down at your intertwined hands to compose himself. He clears his throat before raising his head again.

"My father died," he says, voice still thick with emotion, "And Asgard...my home is lost forever."

You stroke the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to offer any kind of comfort.

"We escaped on a ship, and on our way to Midgard..." he trails off again and pauses, "I was King for a few hours before Thanos slaughtered half my people. Heimdall amongst them."

"God."

Thor begins to tremble in your hands. You can see him fighting to keep his emotion in check, but not even he can stop the tears from flowing this time.

"And Loki..."

He doesn't have to say the words. The sobs wrack his whole body, but not once does he make a sound above a whimper or a sniffle. You let him have a little cry in your arms, wanting him to let go of all the emotions he's been keeping buried for so long.

"You were all I had left, and when I failed to stop Thanos, I lost you too."

When I failed to stop Thanos.

The words cut you like glass. Not only has he been dealing with all this loss, he's also been carrying the guilt of what Thanos did on his shoulders. The weight of half the universe.

"Thor," you whisper as you turn his chin to look at you, "Thanos wasn't your fault."

"Don't say that," he says as he gets up abruptly and turns away from you, "The only reason he had time to snap his fingers is because I didn't go for the killing blow. Because I selfishly wanted him to suffer."

You don't know what to say, so you don't say anything.

"This is why I didn't come to see you," he turns to look at you, "I didn't want you to see me this way. A sloppy, bloated mess on the outside. And broken beyond repair on the inside."

"Thor–"

"Everything – everyone I lost before you, I didn't lose because of the snap. They didn't come back twelve days ago," he says, tears forming in his eyes, "Having you here eases that pain, but it's still there. I feel it."

You hold out your hand for him for him to take. He hesitates for a second, but when he slides his hand into yours, you pull him back onto the bed, intertwining your fingers with his once again.

"Thor, you are the most joyous person I've ever met," you say as you brush his tears away, "Ever since I met you, you've always seen the bright side of things."

He looks away from you, and you turn his head back so you can look into his eyes.

"You lost a great deal in a very short time," he squeezes your hand tighter, "You're allowed to grieve, Thor. Mourning the people you've lost doesn't make you broken. It's what separates us from mindless chitauri."

He lets out a breath of relief that he seems to have been holding for five years. The grief isn't something that can be magically cured in one conversation, but the tension he walked into your bedroom with is gone. Your only hope is that he is able to start healing.

You move in closer to him and kiss his hand, "I love all of you, Thor. In all ways. Always. That will never change."

Your heart bursts when he smiles for the first time tonight. It's just as charming, beautiful and infectious as you remember.

He pulls you in for a kiss, slow, soft, and passionate. His fingers gently brush against your cheek and hair, sending a tingle down your spine. You only break away for air, chasing his lips until you meet them with your own again.

You pull away and sigh, your forehead resting against his.

“You smell like soap,” you whisper against his lips, eyes still closed.

“I had a shower” he smiles proudly, “Small steps.”

You lean and give him another kiss, your thumb softly stroking his cheek as you pull away to look at him, “And we’ll take those steps together.”

[tteokdoroki]

an ode to winter | dabi.

♡ pairing: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: manga war arc!au, single-parent!au, unplanned pregnancy!au,  angst, fluff, smut.

♡ summary: touya todoroki had broken a lot of things, your heart, promises, your window a few times, but you swore he'd never leave your child feeling that way. but when he wants back into your life, will he take no for an answer? And do you even want to say it?

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( literally 5k of it ), MANGA SPOILERS IN THE EXTENDED ENDING,  mentions of pregnancy, mentions of semi-toxic!relationships, struggling with parenting, blackmail ??,   unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, losers ), handjobs, oral sex ( female receiving ), fingering ( female receiving ),  choking, branding, squirting, spit!kink, needy touya lol <3

♡ author’s note(s): OK so this started out as a fic for my bestie @ozzy-bozzy​ but then turned into this long ass vent fic bc i do be struggling!! i’ve barely written for touya so apologies if his character is off. special thanks to @bakugous-trauma for beta reading n @doinmybesthere for the summary and beta reading and thanks for 4.7K MWAH <3

♡ masterlist | requests

the snow had fallen heavy that day, its flakes dancing along the window panes while you’d brought her into the world. you hated the cold, the way it nipped at your nose and stung at your cheeks, how it could freeze over a heart so badly that it would take years to thaw it out. you’d complained about the ice sheets that frosted your windows to the doctors, the ones on the roads too, but they’d simply wrote it off as your anxieties related to bringing kori home for the first time in such weather.

funnily enough, your daughter much resembled the cold in many ways. you’d named her ‘kori’; meaning ice, since her hair was white as the crisp blanket of winter outside and her eyes a piercing shade of aqua marine, that for a while, had no meaning written behind them except for a cool curiosity that you knew didn’t come from your side of the family. she wasn’t warm either, the first time you held her, her flesh against yours was almost a painful spark of frostbite— you expected that it was related to the lineage she came from too.

you thought that you’d resent kori when she was born; for the struggles that her new life had brought to you. you’d given birth alone and afraid, having lost friends and contact with your family due to keeping your pregnancy a secret. if they had known who caused you to end up in this situation in the first place, you were sure you’d have lost them all anyways. you hadn’t a chance to attend maternity classes due to the hours you worked in order to ensure yourself and your child’s financial security. although, prior to her arrival, dabi had told you that if you chose to give your daughter the todoroki name; you both would be looked after when the right time came.

and like a fool in love, you’d believed him, avoiding the apologetic gazes of the doctors and midwives who’d delivered your baby as you filled out her paperwork and birth certificate. one nurse even asked you if you wanted to contact endeavour for support, and you couldn’t blame her— the rumours of your child potentially being that of natsuo todoroki’s had spread fast through the hospital and it was a given, figuring his bad boy college reputation. natsuo and his ventures into the college life were no stranger to the media, so it didn’t surprise you nor the doctors to believe that this wasn’t the first time a girl had given birth alone to a todoroki child. you suspected that if there were any, enji todoroki would have paid them off.

so you let them believe what ever false truth that might have plagued the hospital walls about yourself and your daughter— not having the heart to tell them that you’d probably receive a much larger sum of money to keep hush about the child that you mothered and the child who’s father belonged to endeavour’s deceased, eldest son.

so you realised, thumb held by the chubby hand of your sweet infant girl; that you couldn’t hate her for the mistakes you’d made and the mess you’d become tangled up in— you could only promise to do your best in raising her despite the odds and difficult circumstances, you could give her the life and childhood that her father never had but most certainly deserved.

“miss yn...”

your midwife; himari enters the room, calling for you— tearing your gaze away from the hypnotising sea-foam eyes belonging to your daughter, the way she looked at you only reminding you of dabi. you’d told him once that his eyes always took you to the mediterranean sea, to which he’d laughed and mentioned you’d never seen it before. when the pair of you realised that this was true, the boy with the black hair and intoxicating stare made an oath to you, that he would take you there someday so you could bask in the warm sun and dip your toes into the clear oceans. you only hoped that this oath still remained true.

“miss yn...” himari tries again, this time stepping further into your hospital room. your thoughts had carried you so far away that you hadn’t realised how close she’d gotten as she lingered by your cot. her hands lay flat against her pale blue uniform, nails you note—neatly trimmed— and a smile that would have made you feel comfortable had you not known she’d volunteered to care for you because she too believed she’d be paid off by endeavour. you almost felt bad that she thought the silly lie was true and that she had a shot at a big time bonus but it was funny to think that no one would believe her when she eventually took to the news to claim that she cared for the next heir of the todoroki empire. “it’s says here, that kori is scheduled for feeding— i was wondering if you wanted to continue breast feeding or try pumping a bottle or two today?”

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum with hesitance. feeding kori was something you’d never discussed with dabi, some of the nurses had assured you that it was possible for you to do both— so that you could grow closer to your daughter and form a tight bond whilst also giving the opportunity to others to feed her when need be. there weren’t many others, but you figured that dabi might want to give bottle feeding a whirl when he finally returned from the league business. the business that had made him miss his little girl’s birth.

kori gargles from hunger in your arms, drawing your attention back to her tiny form. a stray strand of hair curls against her forehead from underneath her blankets and swaddling— the end you notice has a slight tint of red to it. the icy shell around your heart thaws. glancing back up to himari; you grin with a decision in mind. “i’d like to try breast feeding again, we can use the pump tomorrow.” you say, voice quiet.

“do you need any help getting her to latch?” your midwife asks, aiding you into a comfortable position to feed kori.

“no,” you smile after getting settled, pushing down your gown to expose your breast to your little girl. “i’ve got her, i can take care of her.”

you say the words more so to yourself than to himari, a hidden reassurance that you’re more than capable of raising your daughter on your own.

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

the snow melts, the flowers bloom and the seasons change. your daughter grows with the swift transition of the weathers too, her hair is a little longer now but the small curl of red against her forehead remains hidden and the same. her eyes open wider, still that deep shade of ocean blue, she can sit up on her own, throws toys out of her crib  and her favourite movies are bambi and bambi two. they’re the only things that she watches, which you hate, because they remind you of her. an innocent child who loses one parent and is left in the care of the emotionally closed off other.

you hadn’t realised how much you would need dabi, but still he is nowhere to be seen.

raising kori on your own proves a challenge, especially now that she’s a little bigger— it was easy after she was born; she was quiet and only made a fuss when she was hungry or needed to be changed. went down easy too, that was until her wails reared their ugly head as soon as the colder parts of winter hit. no matter what you did, the girl would cry for hours on end until her face would hurt from how scrunched it was and her fingers would turn red from the grip she had on your hands.

since her birth, you and kori had to move three times due to the noise complaints about her consistent crying throughout the day, evening and night. by the time february rolled around, you’d ended up in an apartment not so far from dabi’s old neighbourhood— it was a shitty area with high crime rates and an eerie feel to it that made you clutch your purse tighter when you walked home from the late night shifts— you had never had any intentions to raise kori in a dump like this, you wanted a better life for her than what dabi had, but your shabby two bedroom apartment in the dark side of town would be enough for now.

the rent was cheap since your current boss at the local grocers market was close friends with the building manager, but your boss was also a sleaze who thought offering you an extra 10% off of your weekly shop and an expired coupon for the coffee joint down the street would be enough to get into your pants. he was just another thing on your list that you hated about the world, about the current life you lead but you needed to keep him close to keep your rent low and a roof over your head.

besides, it had been a few days since you last saw him at work— the asshole was probably taking a few days to himself while you and your colleagues practically ran the store.

you can’t leave kori with a sitter; they never worked with her. your daughter was far too temperamental for the average person and would spend one night with her before taking their pay and quitting. the only person able to handle your beloved little girl was the old lady who lived two floors above yours, mrs. yamamoto. she was a sweet woman, widowed by fifteen years and had taken a liking to kori that one time you’d helped with her groceries when she couldn’t make it out in the february winter after your little girl was born.

it seemed kori liked mrs yamamoto as well, she was only ever quiet in the woman’s presence and you put it down to how high she had the heat up in her apartment. one time, it was up so high the power in the building went out for an entire night— which was hell for you since kori wouldn’t stop bawling. however; you appreciated the help, you’re sure that without the help of the elder woman you would have been far under the surface— drowning in regret.

but sometimes, it’s easy for the darker emotions to slip through the cracks— take a choke hold over your sanity. there would be nights where guilt would consume you and tears would flow heavily down your cheeks while your daughter slept. it was hard being alone, no one to confide in about the troubles of parenting or to reassure you that you were doing a good job at taking care of your child.

it didn’t help that winter was coming up again, kori’s first birthday fast approaching. the sudden milestone only made you wish that dabi was around more — it hurt you to know that there was possibility he’d run out on you and his responsibilities as a father but part of you believed that your lover was better. the eldest todoroki son appeared way too excited throughout your pregnancy to leave you with nothing.

despite not being able to make it to appointments due to his criminal nature, dabi had somehow manged to find the money to get you a 4D ultra sound of your baby, telling you a few odd jobs here and there allowed him to scrape the cash together. you never asked what it was that he did, afraid of what you might find in the eyes of the man that you loved so much.

why did you allow yourself to love a man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day if he hadn’t broken into your home? his seafoam eyes a glowing shade as he threatened your life through shards of broken glass and then wails of cop sirens outside. were you just as broken as he? had you not realised it yet? you could blame this whole mess on the fact that he kept coming back, but you always let him back in. dabi was a broken man who only knew blood and grit and grime and you were the girl with a chance to lead a normal life— yet you poured all of your heart and all of your soul into loving him because you were so sure that you could fix him.

and every single time you’d convinced him, convinced yourself that what you had could be normal and domestic— dabi would slip between your sheets, pinning you to your bed with your name heavy on your lips and the emotion of love painted into the turquoise flecks in his eyes. they burned with passion while his heated cock sunk between your plush thighs and welcomed him into your warmth. the moans you’d share while your skin slapped together, creating a bubble of safety where you were the only two people on the world.

dabi made promises against your swollen lips as his fingers swirled hidden messages of desire into your slick, puffy clit. he couldn’t give you the ring, the wedding or the house with the white picket fence and dog barking at the post man in the front yard— but he could give you every part of him from the good to the bad, the beautiful to the ugly and he would seal that promise with a throaty groan of ‘you are mine and i am yours...’ into your ear as you came together.

but it seemed that like all things, dabi’s promises were broken like shattered glass— never meant to be kept or eternalised. the shards cut your delicate fingers, the pain numbed as you were left to pick up the pieces and be strong for the small life you were now responsible for.

you were careful to not let the door fly in and hit the wall opposite as you unlocked it, stumbling into your two bedroom with kori’s chubby legs locked around your hips and bag full of groceries in your other hand. “look princess,” you coo down at your daughter sweetly, watching as she drools all over your staff lanyard from work. “we’re home!” bending down, you dropped the produce off by the door before heading off to your living room area, propping kori in front of her toy mat.

smiling down at her, you brush the pure white hair that curls over her cobalt eyes and kiss her freckled cheeks— heart swooning at the way kori giggles in your arms. she’d been on her best behaviour the entire week, keeping out of trouble with the staff at her daycare and mrs yamamoto in the place upstairs, so it was only right that you treat her.

“you hungry babygirl? want mommy to make your favourite, hm?” kori is barely old enough to talk aside from a few babbles and repeats of mama but that doesn’t stop you from asking.

“mmmamamamaa!!”

you press another kiss to her baby fat cheeks before heading to the kitchen to prepare her favourite dinner— spaghetti. ever since kori started eating her solids, she hadn’t been a picky eater and you noticed that her appetite much resembled dabi’s, who couldn’t afford to be fussy about any of the meals you’d made for him before he disappeared.

making the sauce is easy, a dish you’d prepared from when you were a child and used to cook with your parents— you retrieve the ingredients from the groceries and pull out the stuff you’ll need to cook them. you mince the vegetables easily like you’d been taught as your mind gets away from you.

you wish that dabi was here to enjoy the domesticity of your current life— maybe him being around would lift the dark cloud over your life. sometimes it hurt to know that he would be missing out on moments like this and you could imagine him sitting by the couch while kori played with her toys and you cooked for them both. in this world, he’d laugh at her fascination with colder toys and magnets— make a joke about how much your little girl resembles him and kiss your cheek when you served them both up their favourite meals.

tears pool in your eyes at the thought of your wish never being granted and that’s all it takes for you to slip and cut your finger while chopping up the garlic. “fuck!” you boss, dropping the knife and squeezing your hand around the wounded digit. you know that the clattering of the knife has scared kori, and from the way she looks at you, you can already tell that she’s seen you injure yourself. “god, fuck...that hurt.”

there’s a pause in time, while you rinse your cut under the tap, cold water soothing the sting before kori starts to wail like her life depends on it. in a rush, you grab a tea towel in hopes that it’ll stop the bleeding and head straight for your baby, hoping that you’ll be able to soothe her. by the time you reach kori, her eyes are red with tears and snot dribbles from her nose down to her chin while she babbles loosely all the new words she’s learned— in a whiny tone.  

“baby, don’t cry mommy’s got you,” you murmur to her, reaching out to the little girl with open arms. your heart breaks at the way her bottom lip wobbles in a watery pout. kori crawls into your arms, white mop of soft baby hair buried into the junction between your shoulder and your neck— her tiny body shakes with awful heaves and cries while her tears dampen the old hoodie of her father’s that you wear, effectively ruining the fabric. “come on honey, it’s okay! momma didn’t mean to scare you...”

she snivels in your arms, quiet for only a second while you walk around the apartment bouncing her. walking kori up and down seems to soothe her for the most part, a trick that worked when she was first born and had her horrible crying fits. “good girl, mama’s got you...” you continue to soothe her, brushing a finger under her white lashes to remove her tears. all is well for a second and it seems her tantrum has calmed, until she grabs onto your wounded finger and makes you curse in pain again.

“shit!”

“m-momma-!” kori whimpers, face creasing in pain as her cheeks start to heat up again. you fear that if you don’t do something soon she’ll bust a lung from crying.

you shake your head in an attempt to calm her down, baby sobs striking right through your body and resume bouncing her, hoping that it’ll work. “shhh kori, honey, it’s okay— mommy’s okay and so are you...” in the process of comforting her, you somehow trip over the discarded knife, sending it flying into the cabinets across from the island and making another loud noise that further spooks kori.

at this she screams bloody murder, the sound of her little chest heaving giving you a splitting headache. you were tired, tired of your daughter’s crying , working long hours with no help and raising a child all on your own. you were tired of the pain spreading through your head and your body and your heart. you needed an out or break at the very least.

you should feel guilty for what you’re about to do, heading for the nursery with a heaving baby in your grip. you can’t think of anything better to do than put kori down for a nap and hope that her crying tires her out— you do your best to pry the little girl from clinging onto your clothes and tuck her into her crib as she sniffles, quickly backing out of her room before she can call for you and make you feel even worse than you already do.

you close the door quietly behind you, somewhat sliding down it while your own sobs take over your body— shaking you violently as you hug your knees to your chest. you don’t know how long you sit there, biting your lips and holding onto in your whimpers while tears stream down the apples of your cheeks, but eventually

you find yourself drifting off with dreams of your happy family.

you jump awake a few hours later, surrounded by a thick darkness from the sky outside. the hum of the city streets helps to bring you back down to earth as you rub the sleep from your puffy eyes and blink away the exhaustion. you don’t quite remember when you’d fallen into a slumber but you figure that kori must have eventually, judging by the quietness that surrounds your apartment.

the blanket of the night allows your guilt to burn brightly in your chest— you shouldn’t have left her alone. scrambling to your feet, you stumble over to the kitchen counter and grab your phone to read the time. 11:06pm. it’s just about time that you check on your daughter, but with two steps of heading to the nursery and you’re met with foreign sound that doesn’t quite fit in with the usual creaks and squeaks of your apparent.

happy gurgles belonging to your baby creep out from underneath her bedroom door, low humming or singing to accompany her sweet sound. humming that you don’t recognise. with a pang of fear to your heart, you reach for the knife on your kitchen floor as a weapon of defence— this would go down nicely with the police. a single mother on self defence...yeah, that could work out.

the knife shakes in your hand as you approach kori’s nursery, barely steady even when you push open the door.

“...touya?”

nothing could prepare you for what you’d see after walking into that room but when your eyes fall witness to your love standing in the centre of the room with a little tuft of white hair cradled to his bare chest. the air around you tingles with warmth as if dabi has heated the place up with his quirk and your little girl curls into him as if she’s known him all her life. but she hadn’t, he hadn’t.

all at once, your heart heals just as it breaks— it’s been so long since you’ve seen the villain that you can’t help but notice all the changes in him, the way his eyes droop a little more with exhaustion and his hair dusted with a the slightest bit of white. he was noticeably thinner too, maybe from being away from a warm bed and good food for too long...so a half of you was relieved that he was home, the other— hurt and betrayed.

“hey beautiful,” dabi’s timbre voice fills your entire being, stimulating your senses into a dull tingle. his lips a drawn into soft smirk as he rocks kori back and forth, your  baby’s eyes flutter with the gentle indication of sleep. “how’ya been?”

if you weren’t frozen in shock, you would have given the villain a piece of your mind. how dare he...after all this time apart from you, from his daughter...ask how you were doing? your eyes flutter to the open window behind the oldest todoroki son, as if you need to look away from him to convince yourself he’s real and he won’t disappear when you look back.

proven right by meeting the cool, chartreuse sea of his eyes— your throat runs dry as all you’d ever dreamed of saying in this moment, flees from your mind. “what are you doing here?” you say, trying to sound firm even though your voice falls through.

touya stays quiet, twirling a long finger through the small curls on his—your daughter’s head. “i was in the neighbourhood.” he mumbles, gaze tearing away from you to focus on the content infant he has in his arms.

you should feel angry, you should be screaming and kicking at dabi— forcing him out of your home with your child safe in your own arms but your body doesn’t will you to. hurt seeps through your veins at the casual aura in his tone. of course dabi would treat the situation as if it never existed and that he’d been with you the whole time. the pain of seeing him with her as if he’d been in kori’s life from the very start wraps around your heart in a poisonous grip and squeezes hard until you’re choking back a sob, letting it sit in the base of your throat.

you refuse to break in front of him.

“you need to go. you need to put her down and you need to leave.” you attempt to assert yourself in a harsh bark, almost making dabi jump. he’d never seen you like this before, but then again he hadn’t seen you in a year. he could only imagine what motherhood had done to you, especially facing it on your own. touya hesitates, kori shifting in his soft grip— one he didn’t even know that he had as a villain but you steady yourself and repeat your words. “touya, i said you need to leave.”

“why? so you can fall asleep and leave her crying on her own again?” the villain spits out, harsher than he intended. he watches your face fall and your body curl in on itself and he feels bad. dabi had promised you a lot of things since realising he loved you, and not hurting you like his father hurt his mother was one that he’d just broken. relenting, the dark haired villain eases kori from his pec and tucks her into her crib.

there’s a beat of silence and then. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

“yn,” he sighs, running a hand through the light roots of his hair as he leans over his child’s crib. the young father tilts his head, scanning kori’s face while he identifies every characteristic she has from the family he’d done his best to free himself of.   “i’m sorry, it’s just— just that she was cold and crying, so i took off my shirt and held her and she warmed up and—“ dabi pauses his quiet rambling, finally looking up from the slumbering baby tucked away into powder blue silk and locks eyes with you. “and she probably has my mom’s shitty quirk. and i can’t get over how much she looks like them, how big she’s gotten.”

touya finds his shirt after admitting that, throwing on the thin white material before closing the window he came through. he moves with the swiftness that comes with his job, and it’s almost peaceful to watch. you stay plastered by the door, torn between falling right into the palm of his hand and demanding the answers that you and your daughter deserve.

it makes you feel a little sick when he gazes down at kori with pride, it makes you queasy at how easy she was to handle to him. touya todoroki doesn’t know half of what it was to raise his child...but did that make you a bad mother? was there something he shared with kori that you didn’t? dabi hadn’t known what it was to love someone other than himself until he’d met you, but you’d spent your entire life around family and friends who took care of you and made you feel cherished every day. you had all of that before you had dabi, and you’d given it all up for him.

shouldn’t you be the one to easily put your daughter down for a nap? to soothe her tears? and for him to come so briskly into your lives and take care of it all when he doesn’t even know what you’d been through, hurts most of all.

“you don’t even know her,” you start, tremble to your bottom lip as the sob in your throat builds up and threatens to burst. “you never saw her after she was born, never cut the cord, never knew her weight. you don’t know how tiny she was when she came into the world, you don’t know because you didn’t come!” with each word, stray tears manage to escape from your tired eyes, but you’re too fixated on dabi to bother to wipe them. it hurts to cry, it stings even as they stream down the apples of youth cheeks but you don’t move.

“yn, sweetness, i—“

“i know how much she weighed when she was born, four pounds and thirteen ounces. she was so tiny i was scared that she would break—“ you’re gasping now, almost choking yourself out on the pain that burns brightly in your lungs and claws its way up your throat. “i know her favourite foods, what fabrics irritate her skin, her favourite stuffed toys, how she likes to be swaddled in her blankets at night or that her curls make her face itch but they’re practically untameable.”

you start to heave, losing breath with every word and dabi does nothing but watch, keeping an eye on kori to make sure she stays sleeping as he steps towards you. “i know that i love her more than i’ve loved anything in my entire life, despite how much i suffered alone bringing her into this world. and i know that i named her kori after the ice that frosted the windows of my hospital room while i waited for... you.”

touya remains emotionless while you descend into madness, letting you cry it out. “i’ve been watching...”

you want to scream, beat his chest and blame him for how insane you’ve become. “watching isn’t enough touya, she needed you. i-i needed you.” you whimper, falling limp against the door frame as your hands move threateningly towards your hair as if you’re going to rip it out from the root. “...you couldn’t come and visit? not once i-in the eleven months that she’s been alive? not once while she’s been breaking me down and giving—“

“giving you a hard time? i tried, i took care of you from afar...i’m the one who made your boss disappear. the one who put his hands on you.” dabi sneers towards the end of his once gentle words, standing a breaths width away from you. you hate that you crave the same touch from him as he gave to kori, but you’re still so mad at him.

eventually, it all becomes too much and you succumb to the tears that wrack your exhausted body. you sway with each choked wail that tumbles from between your chapped lips and dabi surges forward to catch you after kicking the knife from earlier away, letting you sink into the warmth of his embrace. he feels like home, smells like safety and not a word is uttered as he brings you to the floor and cradles you like he did with his daughter.

dabi doesn’t need to say sorry when he shows you through how close he holds you to his heart.

when you finally calm down, dabi lifts you bridal style to your bathroom and draws you a bath with the salts and lavender extract from the cupboard above the sink. neither of you speak except for when he softly offers to help you undress— to which you decline— and when he tells you he’s going to fix something to eat.

you knew damn well that the villain could not cook, he hadn’t been when he was little since endeavour took away the entirety of his childhood and you’d only taught him the basics when he was still on the run and stopped by your place from time to time. his favourite thing back then had been to watch you cook to the weird music you kept playing, hips swaying to the beat and a sparkle in your eyes— but you didn’t do that anymore, he could tell those days were long gone.

dabi orders in takeout in the end and you have half a mind to curse him out for using your money— but the day’s events have exhausted you beyond your wits end, so you eat with him in silence atop your double bed after dressing in an old shirt of his. “stay the night.” is what you tell him, scared that he’ll leave. he puts his cigarette out on your balcony. the doors usually stayed locked so kori couldn’t crawl out on her own but you opened it for him since dabi liked to smoke and you hated the ash.

he promised to quit back then, and he hadn’t now.

“i’ll stay.” dabi says, throwing the butt over the ledge and stripping his clothes as he follows you to bed. he decides not to mention he wanted to stay anyway. you peel back the covers enough for him to slip in behind you, heated arms wrapping around your waist and settling on your tummy, where he rubs small patterns into your skin. the villain’s chest is  overwhelmingly warm against your back— reminding you of the days where you would spoon and he’d wait with baited breath for kori to kick.

both of you lay together, wide awake in the dark for goodness knows how long. touya’s breath balmy against the nape of your neck and if you focused hard enough, you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. he pretends to sleep, refusing to acknowledge that his proximity to you affects him in the worst of ways— evident in how his prominent hard on presses against the swell of your ass.

rolling over, your heart skips a beat at the way your love’s eyes still manage to glow brightly in the dark— ignited by the flames of his quirk and emotions of angst from the past.

they flicker as he looks to you, pale skin illuminated by the silver moon slipping in from your balconies, scars as enticing as ever. tentatively, you reach a hand out to cup his face, not kidding the apprehension that paint his matured features even as you run your fingers down the scars on his jaw. “been a while since we’ve been like this,” is all you can muster up, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek while your free hand snakes between your bodies in an attempt to pleasure the man.

fear strikes you right in the chest, leaving you panting as dabi flips you onto your back quickly, pinning your wrists against the bed. “don’t,” he growls, almost feral in tone and in his eyes. “don’t do something you might regret in the morning.”

you lay still, staring at the man above you in an attempt to read him. doing so had always been hard, but tonight you can see every detail of his life and every part of him.  the fear of being his father and disappointing another group of people, a broken man torn between the people he loved and the life he led— you could finally see him. you wondered if it hurt him to be away from you and his child, if he ever thought of you.

you take a deep breath, fabric of the sheets fuzzy in your ears as you shake your head up at him. “i could never regret being with you,” you sigh, dabi’s gaze lowering. “i just need you...”

your proclamation is all the permission dabi needs before he ascends on your neck, almost whimpering at the taste of your skin against his tongue. you know that he’s avoiding your lips, scared that things may not feel the same if he kisses you there— as if your love might have fizzled out from the months that you’ve been apart. the villain’s mouth is hot against your skin, sharp teeth sinking into the column of your throat— it’s not hard for him to find the spots that make your back arch and body tingle, the dark haired man  would be embarrassed to admit that he had your body mapped out in his brain. you were all that he thought about in the months between then and now.

you miss his lips, but you fear that if you push your love to far he’ll clam up and withdraw from you completely. you can’t lose him while you have him now. in the meantime, your bodies press against one another hotly, burning while dabi paints shades of blue and purple deeper than his eyes against your flesh before lapping at each love bite with an odd tenderness people wouldn’t think he possessed at first glance. as he works, touya loses grip on your wrists, allowing them free roam across the expanse of his back.

your nails leave light tracks across his back, trailing up from his muscled back to the nape of his neck— curling in the white roots of his hair in an attempt to tug him up to your lips. “baby,” the old pet name tumbles from between them before you can catch yourself, laboured from where you’re short of breath. “please kiss me, please..”

with newly mussed hair, dabi is still for a moment before leaving one last mark at where your jaw meets your neck— wet tongue lolling over the fresh bruise while his large palm move back to cup your head. a thumb belonging to a scared hand runs over your bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh down while he watches your face for a reaction. “are you sure that’s what you want, beautiful?” the villain chuckles into the dark of the night, pink muscle running over his own lips to wet them in anticipation. “you want your man to kiss you?”

your senses go into overdrive, desperate for any kind of contact from the man above you— he feels so close and yet, a million miles away, even with his body making its way between your thighs and your chests pressing together eagerly.

“touya—“ you breathe, barely able to finish your sentence before the man himself delves deep into your mouth. his lips move with hesitance at first, sucking on yours slightly and parting for air more often than he should but you grip him by the whites of his hair firmly and tug him further into the kiss. your tongue dances along the seam of his lips, prying them open as you seek permission for entrance— dabi groans lowly as you tug on his roots and force your way into his mouth, tasting him as if it were your last time.

you swallow each of his moans that mingle softly with your own, while your tongues dance together messily— the kiss were and sloppy as if the two of you were out of practice. your worries fly out of the window from there, it’s good to know that neither of you had been with others during your time apart instead you feel like a teenager making out with their highschool crush for the very first time. dabi’s hips rut into the plush bed beneath you both and you can tell that even the slightest touches are riling him up beyond belief— it’d been almost a year since he’d felt you against him in any way and it didn’t help that you were so ready to accept him.

that you still wanted him.

whimpering at the thought, the villain pauses against your lips to catch his breath— panting softly. you can feel him pulling away, questioning if he deserves to be with you after everything he’d put you through. so, cupping dabi’s jaw, you let your free hand slip between your heated bodies and glide your fingertips along the waist band of his sweats.

“yn, i ain’t so sure about this,” dabi sighs, body twitching at the proximity of your hands to his hardness, his eyelids flutter shut and lock away his beautiful blue eyes— holding fear, insecurity and desire. “what if ya’still regret this later on?”

smiling up at him, you thumb at his cheek and work your hand deeper into his pants, past his underwear. “you’ve been away too long baby, i would regret not being with you more,” you coo up at him just as you grasp at his hardened length, watching as dabi shudders in your grip. his cock leaks hotly against your soft palm from going untouched for so long, your fingers explore him— tracing down the thick veins on the underside of his length. “let me make you feel good tonight.”

“fuck, sweetness. talk pretty with that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours.” touya breathes heavily against your mouth, both of yours falling open in hot moans. cheekily, you run a thumb over his tip, circling the slit at the top. dabi collapses on top of you, burying his mop of salt and pepper hair into your neck as he drives his hips into your hand at his own leisurely pace. “y’better live up to those words—shit, don’t go letting me down, princess.” jade orbs finally open, heavy with lust and desire as the air around you tingles with a newfound desire to make each other feel good, settling on the planes of your marked and scratched skin.

your grip around dabi tightens while he fucks into your closed fist, wet sounds filling the room from where he leaks at his bright red tip— almost hot as his hands that dance up your sides and tenderly touch at your hips. so unsure, yet so needy. clear, thick precum guides the movement of your hand as it slides up and down your lover’s girth— he’s much bigger than you remember, swollen with an impending orgasm and dabi stutters when you reach further down his boxers to grip at weighty balls full of his seed, just about ready to burst.

he howls from deep within his chest, the noise only muffled from the drool that glides across his tongue before the villain’s wandering and scarred palms stop at your rib cage, settling just under your breasts. you don’t bother to stop pleasuring him even as his quirk ignites, blue flames burning right through your night shirt to expose your skin to the cool night air.  without even a second thought, dabi’s mouth ascends on your tits, taking one into the hot cavern while his free hand seers marks over the other.

the thought have being branded by your man makes your hips jump and your hand squeeze his cock in your grip— a reminder of what’s to come later on. his strawberry tongue rolls across your hardened nipple and you yelp in surprise with the sudden feeling of cool metal across the exposed flesh. “y-you have your tongue pierced?” you squeal as dabi repeats his actions, loving the way you arch your back into his mouth and your heart rate speeds up.

“never know when a bit of metal’s gonna come in handy, sugar tits.”

you barely have time to formulate a response before your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and marking your raw flesh like a man starved of his last meal— you don’t let up either, quickly pumping his cock as he continues to leak, painting your hand with teases of his incoming release. you’re sure that his sweatpants and the sheets below you will be stained with his arousal from how much precum oozes from his dick, slicking up your hands and creating the perfect flashlight but you don’t dare to think of anything else but the way dabi’s face twists with pleasure as he desperately thrusts himself into the softness of your palm.

his cheeks flush red, globs of drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his tongue while his eyes grow fuzzy at each step he takes closer to orgasm, the very drool from his mouth covers each of your breasts as dabi switches between them— creating a layer of wet against your supple skin that shines under the moon. you flick your wrist around him, faster, harder— giving the villain everything you’ve got to make him feel good.

“shit pretty girl, y’gonna make me...cum,” touya shakes in your grip, eyes crossing and tongue becoming lazy against your marked up chest. his salvia pools against your skin while he pants and fucks your wet hand as if it were your pretty little cunt clamping down on him. “fuck, fuck, fuck. don’t you fuckin’ stop, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop...”

he barks out the demands, but there’s a neediness to his tone and whine to his voice that makes you grin with pride, even if you’re barely there from having your nipples stimulated beyond belief. “cum for me touya, please, wanna feel you come undone for me.” you beg him, ever so slightly and it’s just enough to push the villain over the edge, sending him into an earth shattering orgasm. you don’t dare to stop as you jerk him off, guiding down from his high as his cock twitches from release and paints your knuckles with the thick white of his seed. he mewls contendly into your breasts, slowing his hips while the world of colours dance behind his cerulean eyes.

“here with me yet?” you murmur to him, grasping his wild locks to tilt his head up towards your face— dabi looks so blissed out but the smirk on his raw and bitten lips tells you the night is far from over.

pressing a searing kiss to your sternum, your boyfriend’s pierced tongue makes yet another appearance as he trails the muscle down your soft tummy— biting your navel as he goes. “never left gorgeous, but don’t you fucking dare think for a second that this is over, y’got that?” he sits up quickly, grabbing hold of your doughy thighs and using them to pull you down the bed. the pads of his fingers start to burn marks into your skin, dancing along your legs and stopping just above the waistband of your underwear. “gotta stretch this cunt open before i give you my cock, remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

spreading your thighs nice and wide, you release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding as dabi’s hands finally come into contact with your slit, prodding at your slick folds from over your panties. lowering his face between your open legs, your boyfriend hums in satisfaction as he peels your sticky panties away from your pussy. “why, babydoll, you’re so fucking wet down here. this can’t all be for me, can it?” touya teases you, hot breath fanning against your unused sex while his fingers play with the string of your slick that coats them. “y’must’ve missed your man badly for your lil cunt to look this fucked up, s’pecially when i haven’t even touched’ya yet.”

you shiver and nod weakly, willing to say or do anything to feel more of your boyfriend against you. “s’all for you dabi, o-only you could get me this wet, n-no one else could take your place...” you mewl, hips bucking into the air while the man himself watches you grow needier and needier, hormones expelled into the air. dabi grins, leaning into your core once more to press his nose into your wetness, sniffing your spiked panties like the dirty man he is— only to then lay his pierced tongue flat against your folds, tracing your hole with the muscle while his nose bumps at your clothed clit.

“saved this all for me, huh? you’re so loyal, sweetness. waiting for me all this time…” he kitten licks at your cunt until you’re writhing amongst the already solid sheets, forcing his spit into your hole from over the thin fabric of your panties, creating a more prominent outline of your puffy lower lips as your thighs quieter around his head. they threaten to close as he works on you through your underwear— teasing and prodding at your sex to see if you respond the same way to his touches as you used to.

you force your shaking through his black and white locks, grabbing hold of his roots in an attempt to pull dabi back to your heat when he lifts his head from between your thighs— pushing your lips into a pout. “no, no no, baby, please— need you to eat my cunt, want your mouth on me, please!” you cry out, but you’re quickly pacified by his scarred hand which cups your pussy— seat of his hand grinding into your clit.

“god, if i had known you were still this eager to fuck me i woulda come home a long time ago, babydoll.” he chuckles, licking up your inner thigh and biting down on the plush flesh. “need’ta get rid of these though, they’re getting in my way.” the villain gestures to your panties, making you watch as his quirk burns it’s way through the silky material until it’s nothing but ash against your sheets. you gasp as soon as your cute little pussy is exposed to the cool air, missing the warmth of touya’s pink tongue against it. “better.” he sneers, eyes bright and glowing in the dark with a new sense of feral desire.

thick digits press into your tight hole at the same time touya takes to sucking on your swollen clit, forcing their way up your velvet walls in search for your pleasure spot. dabi chuckles against your sticky folds as you begin to whine, hips rolling up into your lover’s face while his tongue draws rough patterns onto your bud. you’ve missed him, missed this. the nights where the villain dabi would sneak into your home, becoming your touya todoroki between the four walls that you shared— where you would spend nights seeing stars by his hand or his cock and he would make you his over and over again. the memories have you clamping down on his digits like there’s no tomorrow, greedily sucking them in as he strokes at the walls of your sex and makes your whole body shake.

touya works hard at pleasuring you, apologising for his absence through slurping the juices from your folds only for you to gush and paint his scarred chin with more of your nectar. the way you taste makes him dizzy, he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs and never miss the outside world like he did before tonight. he wants to be good for you, make you feel good too and it’s not enough to feel the ecstasy roll off of your heavenly body in waves— he wants all of you, mind, body and soul to belong to him.

you can barely breathe, leaking with every swipe of his tongue against you and every twist of his fingers inside of you. you can feel everything at once, the euphoria crackling across your brain, high on the way touya makes you feel. “god, t-touya, don’ stop...feel so fucking good…” you heave in a drawn out moan, barely able to tell what’s up and what’s down as the villain pulls his fingers from your slick hole and replaces them with his tongue ( only after they’ve pushed down on your g-spot over and over again ).

“you’re not the one giving orders, sweet stuff, oh no.” dabi reminds you sloppily, looking like a child with no table manners as your nectar smears across his face. for his own satisfaction, he delivers a harsh smack to your pussy, watching as your entire body jolts and jumps up the bed. “your cunt is mine and i’ll do what i want with it, show you how much i missed it.”

his possessive words almost set you off, the knot in your stomach growing tighter with every pinch of your nub and every swirl on his tongue inside your walls, committing every ridge to memory. your body burns and you’re not sure if it’s from dabi pressing against you so hotly or because of the desire that fuels the fire inside you.

“yours, yours, yours!” you chant like a mantra, high pitched and whiny— your voice mixing with the crude sounds of your own pathetic cunt, that grows louder when dabi spits on your clit to add to your wetness. he lets it drip between your folds, fingers to busy with stimulating you to catch it before it slides between your lower cheeks, opting to use his tongue on you instead.

“ya’like that don’t you? missed your whinin’ pretty girl, fuck, even missed making you a fucking mess.” you keen into his touch, babbling incoherent praises to the man between your legs as he spreads you wider by the ass with one hand and forces his fingers back into your cunt with the other. his fingers curl into a come hither motion, repeatedly pressing down on your spongy spot as he sloppily makes out with your puffy nub— taking only one, two, three strokes to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull and your orgasm to wash over you.

your body convulses, shaking as you’re hit hard by your release— juices gushing all over your lover’s face even as he refuses to let up. “t-touya no...no no...can-can’t,” you whinge, tears clumping in your lashes. dabi spreads your lips again, using three digits instead of two to continue stimulating your clit until another release builds up inside your lower belly— clear liquid gushing out of your abused pussy and staining the sheets below.

he hums proudly, pressing a lasting kiss to your fluttering hole before reaching up to your lips to do the same, barely allowing you the time to catch your breath— chest heaving while you come down from your high. “so pretty when you squirt for me like that, sweetness,” dabi moans into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him. but as soon as he comes, he’s gone— rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips so your ass sits in the air for him. “gonna take my cock now, kay?”

“kay,” you mumble into the sheets, brain too  fuzzy to resist as the villain manhandles you the way he wants.

after shoving down his sweatpants, the eldest todoroki grips the peachy soft flesh of your ass— smacking it a few times with his heat activated palms to watch the flesh jiggle and his handprint sink into the skin. you lean back, watching over your shoulder as his cock stands at full attention, hard from seeing you come undone on his fingers and tongue. it burns bright red at the tip, another fat glob of precum making it shine and making you dribble with anticipation. “y’such a fuckin’ slut, my beautiful slut… hungry for my cock even after i’ve wrecked your lil pussy so bad,” dabi says with a cocky lilt to his voice, the very tone making your hole clench around nothing. he taps his sticky cockhead against your slit, running it up and down your cunt three or four times— groaning as it slides between your cheeks. the sensation causes your back to arch as you wail, fingers gripping the bed covers so tight that you almost cause them to tear. “don’t you worry baby, ‘m gonna make up for lost time, you don’t have to miss me anymore.”

there’s a double meaning to his words that you don’t ask him to elaborate on, too caught up in the way he teases your hole as he dips his length in— only to pull it right back out. “don’t tease, need you badly,” you plead, earning yourself another harsh spank to your raw ass cheeks.

“shut the fuck up and let me fuck you,” the words are harsh against his tongue, but dabi utters them softly as he relents to his wishes. his cerulean gaze flutters down to where your bodies begin to join, his large hand gripping his length before he starts to push into your dribbling entrance. “god, you’re s’fuckin’ tight, you might as well be a virgin.” pussy spasming at his words, you leak against touya’s cock, creating a lewd squelching sound as he pushes more of himself into you. the weight of dabi’s thick girth causes painful, yet delicious burn which he eases by rubbing soothing circles into your clit once more. “been s’long, i outta fuck you open again, huh?”

“uhuh, take me again touya. make me yours, all over again.” you slur over the spit drowning your tongue, eyes fluttering shut when the villain’s hips surge forward his dick brushes against your cervix. his rough, calloused palm grabs your neck from behind, forcing you down into the sheets while he bottoms out inside of you and pushes the last of his cock past your entrance. the two of you groan in unison, touya sitting heavy inside of your walls before you muster up the energy to say. “move.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, whilst dabi was enjoying the feeling of being engulfed by your soft, warm insides— cock twitching in relief from time to time— he finds it within him to pull back from your selfish cunt to thrust into you with all his might. the force pulls a broken squeal from between your bitten and bruised lips, your hips pushing back against dabi to keep him inside of you. the pair of you move in sync, bodies dancing in a sensual grind between lovers that moulds your cunt into the shape of your boyfriend once more. “oh fuck yeah baby, oooh, missed your cunny s’bad…” dabi yowls loudly, listening for the squashy sounds of your sexes moving against one another. “christ, you like when i talk about your pathetic little pussy like this?”

you bite down on your lower lip, embarrassed by your own bleats of pleasure when he degrades you like this. annoyed by your lack of answer, touya grabs onto your hips and pulls you off of his cock, only to slam them back into you seconds later. his pace is unforgiving and relentless from there, forcing your body up the bed with every thrust into your core. “yes! like it, love it, missed your cock so bad touya!” you cry, holding onto the sheets for dear life as his dick drags along your pleasure spots and his hands burn marks into your ass and hips.

weakly, you attempt to match his thrusts. circling the meat of your ass back onto dabi and squeezing around the head of his girth every time it plunges into your sopping pussy. your arousals mix as he pounds away at your hole, a thick string hanging between your bodies and dribbling down your inner thighs, tainting innocent skin. the wet noise reverberates across the room, creating a passionate symphony with dabi’s deep, pitiful moans.

even though it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate like this, dabi still knew all the ways to get your body going. he took you from behind but still let his marred hands wonder and explore the planes of your skin, pinching here and there, marking your body as his to use and his alone. there’s love hidden beneath his rough touches, little signs that he missed having you so close to him— having you split open on his cock while you dripped on his pelvis and ruined your bedsheets, was his own way of unleashing his pent up emotions of love, anger and despair onto you and you wanted it. you wanted his good and his bad while he fucked you like his life depended on it, balls deep inside the pussy of the woman he loved was where he was most vulnerable with you.

“s-shit, sweetness, you’re such a pretty mess, so fucked up on my cock, can feel you clamping around me like my greedy bitch should.” you’re stuffed so full, clenching every time touya drives his cock deeper into your gummy cunt, head prodding at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. he’s losing his mind at how you choke out his iron hot girth, clear liquid seeping down your thighs at every thrust. “you’re my beautiful brain dead baby, letting me fuck you like this, yeah? missed you baby, missed this,” despite his words, touya is no better than you, mind hazy with thoughts of you creaming around him because of how good he’s made you feel. him, and no one else. you saved yourself for him after all these months, the least he could do was bring you to cloud nine.

he does so by angling his thrusts up to meet your pleasure spot every time, howling your name in the way he knows you like just to feel your hot cunny spew more of your juices out against his tummy. “missed you, thought about this for months,” you lament, elbows that kept you up finally giving out as your body tiredly collapses into the sheets— dabi’s balls still clapping against your ass. he follows you down into bed covers, chest pressing hotly against your back as the jackhammers into you from behind. “thought about your fat cock in my tight pussy, t-touched myself to you...made being alone worth it, made waiting for you to come home worth it. ‘cause i get to see your beautiful face when you fuck me…” you barely register what you’re saying, babbling incorrectly while the temperature of your body rises with your level of arousal.

behind you, touya’s cheeks burn with a new feeling. deep down, all he wanted was to be validated as a lover to you, he’d always been deemed as the bad guy incapable of feeling anything for anyone other than himself. but you, you had proved him wrong so many times and he still found your words hard to believe. yet, it felt good to know how much you loved him. snaking a hand down to your face, the villain squishes your cheeks together and brings you up to his own face despite the arch to your back— he keeps up his sinful pace, your lower cheeks bouncing with every push and pull of his length while he drips a globule of his saliva into your pouting mouth. “shut up,” he grunts harshly, although love is written across his cobalt eyes.

you smile up at him dopily, keeping eye contact with him as you swallow gratefully. “anything for you,” his hands slip from your squashed cheeks to your throat, cupping it as he holds you against him. more arousal pools in your lower stomach, turned on by the thrill of him being able to end your life right then and there, all it would take would be one flame but you know more than anything that dabi loves you and would never hurt you. “i love you, touya todoroki. i a-always will.”

your admission makes dabi’s heart stop in his chest, heated pants tickling your ear as he continues to take you and claim your body as his. with newfound vigor, he links his free hand with yours that lays against the bed and rams his cock into your core as hard and as fast as he can, determined to make you cum. “i—oh fuck, i love you too, sweetness…” the arsonist can feel the way your cunt flutters around his girth at his confession, tears building up in your eyes once more. god, you were so pretty like this, arched for him perfectly in the moon, stars illuminating every curve and dip on your body— showing off the stretch marks from where you’d carried his child. everything about you turned him on in the best possible ways and everything about you that turned him on, also turned out to be everything he loved about you.

your stupid big heart, your stupid big eyes when you say that you love him, your stupid smile when he used to kiss you and hold you and even now when he fucked you. touya todoroki was in love and in the worst possible way but he couldn’t say he regretted a single moment of it, not when you stayed true to him after all these months of being apart. you raised his child and you loved him all the same and a part of him is grateful that you never turned your back on him like everyone else he’s ever loved.

so the least he could do is make love to you, push his creamy cock into the depth of your core while kissing down your spine to watch you shudder oh so cutely. it’s messy and sloppy and the pair of you should feel nasty for the stench of sex in the air, lingering against your skin. but you don’t, how could you? not when love and adoration tingles in the air as well, it’s messy because of the unadulterated emotions you feel for one another— deep in vulnerability is where dabi grinds his cock slowly into you, hitting all the right places that make you scream his name into the night. makes him mumble incoherent praises against your bruised neck and squished cheeks as he lewdly licks a stripe up the column of your neck to behind your ear.

you gush around him and he grunts with ecstasy into your ear, tightening that knot in your stomach as you both step closer to your highs. “you like the way i fill this cunt up, huh? yeah? when i hold you like this, when i fuck you like this?” dabi mutters to you lewdly, holding onto his sanity by a thin thread as his own release sneaks up on him. “tell me you like it...fuck sweetness, please.”

“i love the way you fuck me touya, fuck! only you can make me feel this good,” you moan to appease him, bouncing back against his cock while his hips begin to stutter and your eyes begin to cross. it’s true, you love belonging to him, being able to bring him such pleasure and you know he feels the same way. the villain prods at your g-spot over and over again, stealing your breath away as he pulls you up and into your chest, changing the angle of his hips to bring you to the last hurdle. “baby—ohmygod—-touya! ‘m sososo close, don’t stop...don’t stop, gonna cum, give it to me, give it to me please!” you chant, eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head back against his shoulder and search for his hand, voice rising with every octave as you get closer and closer.

“fucking cum for me sweet girl, shit, cum all over this fucking cock.” dabi manages through gritted teeth, grasping your hand while the pace of his thrusts grow inconsistent.

that’s all that you need to hear before the damn breaks and arousal floods through your entire body courses through your veins. white dances behind your eyes in flashes as your release flushes out of your pussy and drips between touya’s balls, coating them in a layer your honeyed slick. you slump against your boyfriend, not able to mutter a word as you convulse in a silent scream and squeeze both his hand and cock alike.

gently, he pushes you down to the bed and pulls his cock from your intoxicating heat— his free hand clasps around his cock, palming himself towards a swift release. “yeah, oh fuck yeah, fuckin’ love you baby,” he cums on your back and your ass, thick, potent and milky seed landing on your flushed skin before he collapses beside you and exhaustion settles in his bones.

you black out for a few minutes after, fingers still intertwined but dabi manages to slip out long enough to retrieve a washcloth that's damp and warm to clean you both up with. you wake up just as he crawls back into bed with you, kissing your hairline while he makes himself comfortable. “almost thought i’d killed you for a second,” the villain jokes, slinging a loose arm over your bare waist and pulling you to lay on his chest.

“you couldn’t, even if you tried.” you counter sleepily, drawing star shapes on your boyfriend’s naked stomach. a comfortable silence sweeps over the room, despite the thoughts that linger on your mind. looking up at dabi, you notice him drifting off but still can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “why didn’t you ever come back?”

you feel dabi’s chest rise and fall with a deep sigh, fingers coming up to scratch at your scalp— something that used to help you to sleep when you were together before. “i was figuring out a way to get out of the league, to be with you and kori.” he says after some time, catching your eye as you give him a confused look. “shigaraki doesn’t know about her, i never told him. but i knew from the moment we found out about her, i didn’t want her to be a part of the life i’m involved in and knowing how the league works, they’d find a way to make use of her.”

you stay quiet, not knowing what to do with the new information and dabi’s reasoning for staying away for so long. on one hand you were grateful to him for keeping your daughter quiet and safe but part of you still wished he’d given you a sign to let you know it’d all be okay. grabbing your chin, he forces you to look up at him—passionate flames burning in his eyes. “i need you to trust me on this one sweetness, i promise nothin’ will happen to you nor kori. so long as i’m around.”

“pinky promise?” you ask him sweetly, feeling the truth to his words.

you hold up your pinky to the villain’s face, smiling through exhaustion as he rolls his eyes down at you. “pinky promise, babydoll. now get some shut eye, kay?” touya links your pinky with his, scoffing when you make him kiss them.

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

the bed is cold when you wake up the next morning.

the panic sets in quickly, speeding up with the chirping of birds from your balcony outside. you shouldn’t be tearing up over the childishness of a pinky promise. he always made you promises but never actually kept the and as quickly as dabi had waltzed back into your life, he had left you alone and in the cold once more.

gathering yourself together, you stumble out of your bed— avoiding any mirrors that may show the cascade of marks dabi had left against your skin from the previous night. you feel embarrassed and ashamed that you let him back into your life so easily, especially now that you had kori to think about. tears start to well in your tired and puffy eyes as you head to the kitchen, thinking that a mug of coffee will calm you down before you prep your daughter for the day.

but as you wander out of your room, the familiar sound of your baby girl’s laugher drifts through the air— seemingly coming from the kitchen.  the sweet melody calls out to you and suddenly your casual stride to the kitchen becomes a brisk walk so you can reach her faster. “kori? baby? did you climb out of your crib again—?” you call out to her, stopping in your tracks when you round the corner.

dabi stands in the middle of your kitchen, still shirtless, with kori balanced on his hip— in one hand he holds a small blue flame, which you’re sure he believes is safe enough for kori to play with while the other steadies your baby girl while she claps and squeals. a first. you’re not too sure when the last time you’d seen her happy was, but you figure her father’s presence had something to do with it.

“i was going to make you breakfast, but the little shit woke up and i didn’t have enough free hands to make you a grilled cheese.” touya smirks over at you, diminishing his flame to grasp kori’s hand and use it to wave at you. she squeals happily, curls bouncing and eyes lighting up in a similar way to her father’s. your heart melts at the sight of them being together, seeing the mannerisms that they share and how joyous they seem. they both grinned the same way, shared the little twitch in their noses and even their sneezes. kori todoroki was an exact replica of touya todoroki, right down to the tiny red curl she had lost in her white locks.

“you know, i thought you’d left,” you make your way across to the island where dabi sets his daughter down and check her temperature— just in case her sudden change in mood is down to any sickness. “the bed was cold when i woke up.”

“didn’t i make you a promise last night, sweetness? i’m not going anywhere,” the arsonist reminds you, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you wipe at kori’s pudgy baby cheeks and give her the once over again. “if you’re checking the kid’s temperature, she's usually pretty cold because of my mom’s quirk. something ice related will be coming through, but she must’ve inherited your strong constitution. guess she has a normal body temp when i’m around ‘cause it balances her out.” while dabi explains the inner workings of kori’s incoming quirk, she claps and babbles excitedly from her place on the island— making a game out of throwing her toys off of it. all of dabi’s logic makes sense and you seem a little more relieved knowing how to take care of her from here.

picking her up, along with her stray toys, you set your baby down by her playmat again and switch on some baby-safe cartoons while you fix yourself and dabi some coffee, kissing all over kori’s face beforehand. he had whined when you pulled away the first time to give your daughter some attention, it was almost comical how the big bad villain had pouted then. “i wonder if there’s anything of mine she inherited or if it’s all you and todoroki genetics.”

“well, her pretty smile certainly didn’t come from me, babydoll.” dabi muses with a light chuckle, arms trapping you against his chest once more as you continue to make you both some much needed caffeine. the coffee machine whirrs as you sway together in the early morning sunshine, warmth from the sun brushing against your skin and touya’s hair tickling your neck before he presses kisses over your fading love bites while kori’s annoying shows play in the background. everything feels complete and at peace. you feel like a real family. “i could get used to this, this life with you.”

you spin in dabi’s arms, cupping his cheeks and taking in his face for the millionth time in the last twelve hours. “then stay, or at least visit some more now that you’re back. you may not feel it, but kori and i need you. everything has always been better when you’ve been around touya… and i mean that. stay.” you stare at him with pleading eyes, standing on your tiptoes to stare him down and communicate just how much you needed him here with you both.

and for once in his life, touya todoroki feels the most loved he’s ever really felt. here in this shitty two bedroom apartment with his angelic little girl and his beautiful girlfriend during the winter season— touya knows this is right where he needs to be. “i’ll stay, for as long as you’ll fuckin’ have me.”

“forever, then?” you ask, eyes lowering to your boyfriend’s lips.

“forever it is, babydoll.” the villain nods, following your gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with a promise written into your sweet kiss.

extended ending

you thought that the best kind of weather was when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds but the air around you was still as cold as a december’s day. the breeze is enough to make your nose run just a little, but occasionally the warmth of the sun’s rays radiates across your skin like a warm blanket, balancing it out.

it was the kind of weather where people didn’t know how to dress, some wore mismatched shorts and jerseys whilst others were decked out in scarves up to their cheeks and sandals where their toes flopped out. it was the kind of weather that reminded you of dabi and kori, they were your warmth and your cold, they balanced each other out and made your family whole.

kori sits on your right hip as you push the car door closed and wave goodbye to an accomplice of your boyfriend’s— your driver for the evening. your little girl’s curls are combed back into two even pigtails, dark blue bows in each one while the red lock of her hair ( now, much longer ) curls against her forehead stubbornly. she looks so pretty, all fancied up a dress that dabi had chosen for her on this particular occasion, the lace irritated her only slightly but the decapitated endeavour plushie her father had gifted her served nicely as a distraction.

you bounce her once, cooing down at your baby before you look to the hospital in front of you— a look of determination in your eye. ever since the night touya had visited you and swore to stay, he’d kept his word to the best of his abilities. being a villain was still a major factor in your relationship, he came when he could stayed if his job permitted it— taking care of your daughter when your shifts were long and even going as far as to learn his and kori’s favourite recipes to cook on the nights where you couldn’t or you didn’t fancy take out.

in the last few weeks his visits had become slightly more scarce with shigaraki becoming more and more demanding, but touya’s plan to leave the league was slowly coming to fruition along with endeavour and the hero society which had both carved a life of struggle for the three of you.

your boyfriend being busy had given you more time to reconnect with the friends you had lost over the last year, meeting up with those from college, mina and tsuyu ( who’d simply thought you’d gone off the radar ) for kori’s first birthday. they absolutely loved her and your sweet girl loved all the attention she was getting. you even had the chance to reunite with your parents, who were more remorseful that you felt you couldn’t come to them for help than the fact that you’d gotten pregnant during college.

of course, they all asked who the father was and you simply told them that he had died ( which was half true ), using the excuse that you were embarrassed to be widowed and with a child at your young age.

shaking your head, you enter the hospital and recite the words that touya had made you practice the night before. you were here by endeavours orders and needed to see mrs.todoroki. your lover had used some sort of hack to put you on the list of visitors for his mother but one look at kori was all the guards and staff needed to let you through. a few nights prior to today, dabi had asked you to do one thing for him before it all went down, kissing your knuckles over some sushi take out.

so despite your nerves, you would go through with this for him, especially if it meant your family could be together. some guards escort yourself and kori to rei todoroki’s room, leaving you with a curt nod and slightly more polite wave to your daughter. the room itself is slightly bleak, a chair and some blue cushioned sofas positioned in an L-shape parallel to the blanketed bed. there’s a tv in the top left corner which and a set of draws underneath where a clear vase sits— containing blooming blue flowers.

rei looks up when you enter, grey eyes flashing with confusion despite the blank look on her face as kori babbles happily in your arms. “who are you?” she whispers, hands retreating from her flowers and  folding neatly in her lap.

“oh! i’m yn, your son’s fiancé and this,” you beam kindly, further entering the room and being sure to lock the doors behind you. you nod your head down to your daughter who waves around her endeavour plushy— paying no mind to the situation unfolding. “this is our daughter, your granddaughter...kori todoroki! she’s just turned one and daddy thought it was about time she met you, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

“dada!!!”

rei blinks and you smile again. “she’s a daddy’s girl,” you explain and lift your hand to snow the small sapphire engagement ring on your ring finger. touya had proposed last night as well, certain your plan would work out. “and quite frankly, so am i! how can i not be when your son treats me so well.”

nodding slowly, the wife of endeavour looks down at her hands which you note, nervously fiddle with a stray petal. “so, natsu and you—?” you can see her trying to work it out, curiosity written across her features. you could see why the woman might think kori was natuso’s child— they looked a lot like each other just by first glance but rei was missing an important feature. the colour of kori’s eyes.

“oh no, your other son. the eldest one.” you correct her with a sinister shake of your head. swiftly crossing the room to set your daughter down in rei’s lap. you watch with an evil air of satisfaction as rei todoroki freezes with fear, as the mistakes her family paid out to touya suddenly come to the forefront of her mind. she wobbles with kori still in her grip and you shoot her a dark glare— reaching over to fix her flowers in their vase. “touya picked these out, always said that you loved them. such a pretty shade of blue, no wonder why they’re your favourites, right?”

“please leave.” she looks up at you pleadingly, shaking like a leaf in the breeze outside. oh how you wish your fiancé was here to see this but he had more important things to do.

rolling your eyes, you grab the remote to switch on the tv— pinching kori’s nose affectionately to make her laugh again. “come sit with me rei, let’s watch some tv to help you calm down.”

the woman nods weakly, barely moving an inch as you take a seat beside her with a smile. you skip channels a few times, pride swelling up in your chest when you finally land on the right one, touya’s broadcast flashing across the screen. he sits leisurely in a chair, shirtless with all of his beautiful scars on display— a painful reminder of his childhood and what he’d become. “i, touya  todoroki, was born as the eldest son of endeavour. today i’ve killed over 30 innocent people until now, some to protect my family. my daughter, who i have not been able to see due to my father. i would like to let everyone know why i’d end up committing such a hideous act.” he speaks such calmness and clarity, and you can’t help but feel emotional at how he stands in front of the world.

kori grins, leaping up at the sight of her father on the screen and claps her hands. “dada!! dada!! lookie s’daddy!!” she squeals while rei struggles to breathe, panic set in her eyes.

you put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, offering her a sweet grin in an attempt to calm her before the oncoming storm. “keep watching, mrs.todoroki, touya said we’d be one big, happy family after this.” the words are sugar coated and sickly sweet, carrying the dark meaning across to your fiancé’s mother.

looking away, your heart swells while touya tears down the hero society and spills the truth for all of japan to see. you were grateful to the man he’d become— loyal to you, to your daughter and the dreams that you had. the satisfaction of seeing the real villains of the world fall was much greater than any hush money enji todoroki could ever offer.

fin.

— TAGLIST:

@husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @grace-todoroki @toshiuwu  @whet-ones-write​