#the only way i could explain it is that it looks like an early 2000s website or smth

[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

[3d-wifey]

PLEASE PLEASE I NEED A READER WHO'S JUST AS MUCH OF A FERAL FREAK AS LOGAN JUST IDC WHAT HER MUTATION IS, JUST MAKE IT ANIMALISTIC SO THEY CAN HAVE FREAK NASTY SMUT

Back to the Kitty (Cus She's Kinda Pretty)

Pairing: Logan James "The Wolverine" Howlett x Lynx!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut heehee, uh munch logan supremacy, hybrid au (?), NSFW, NSFT

A/N: This has been my man since 2000 and I was only born in 2004, I'm so happy he's fucking FINALLY GETTING LOVE GOD DAMN. Reader is implied to be black but you can still read it if you aren't, as always. Also, it's been shown in canon again and again that Logan is weak to the whims of a pretty woman, especially early Logan, so dont give me no goddamn lip about this being unrealistic.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Logan stares at the wooden door long after Summers leaves. He scoffs, irritated. Something about the Boy Scout rubs him the wrong way. He rolls his eyes. "Prick."

"I see you've met Scott." Logan spins around, and sees… No one. There couldn't be another telepath rummaging around in his head. Between one blink and the next, a woman appears on what's supposed to be his bed. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. Then again, he's not so good either. He's a real mixed bag."

Logan gapes at the relaxed figure lounging on his bed. His senses snap to attention—your scent is all over his room as if it's always been there.

Your heartbeat is fast but steady. He sniffs. Your scent, cool like snow, makes him nostalgic for the Canadian wilderness. It’s tinged with something familiar—an intrinsic note of his own scent. Something he caught on that Sabertooth freak earlier. Animalistic. 

Feral.

As he takes in your appearance, memories of the wilderness flash through his mind. He'd heard stories about people, people like them living off the grid, protecting wildlife and using their powers to evade detection. Maybe you were one of them. A guardian of the wild, hidden from civilization up till now. Maybe he was too.

"What the hell is going on here?" Logan grits his teeth, sick and tired of surprises. You tilt your head, pointed ears twitching, the black tufts catching his attention.

You're lying on your stomach, facing him. Your knees are bent, ankles crossed and swinging.

"You teleport in here or something?" He takes cautious steps towards you, spotting the sharply curved claws in place of toenails—easy weapons. One good kick could slit his throat.

A mix of gray and beige fur trails up from the front of your feet, all the way up your thighs to disappear past the leg of your shorts. It's the same shade as the hair on your head.

"Nope." You barely acknowledge him, grooming the fur along your forearm like one of those big cats. He lingers on the movement, intrigued. The slight tilt of your head, long pink tongue peaking out as it travels the length of your forearm to your knuckles and then back again, holds his attention. "I've been here the whole time.”

“I would’ve smelled you." 

“But ‘ya didn’t,” you chuckle and it feels like you’re rubbing it in his face.

“That's impossible.” He scoffs, shaking his head. 

Sharp, amber eyes lock onto him, reflective and cat-like. He freezes, instincts on edge, the hair on his nape standing as vertical pupils assess him coolly. 

Logan’s eyes flicker away to the exit—only for a split second. But when he looks back, the bed is empty. He whips around to the door, heart pounding in confusion because it's…it's still closed.

Where—? 

“How the hell—”

His jaw doesn't drop but it's a near damn thing. This is freaky, freakier than the regular freakiness he's come to expect after walking into this school.

"Still here." You purr from behind him, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He turns back, and there you are again, lounging like you never moved. He takes a deep breath, trying, and failing, to steady himself. 

"You mind explaining how you're doing that?" He asks, hoping he sounds more annoyed than unsettled. He can tell by the playful glint in your eye that he doesn't. 

“And if I do mind?” You say, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, which is what this all is, he realizes. You smirk. "I told you, boy. I've been here the whole time. Long enough to see you strike out with Jeanie."

Logan scowls more at the mention of Jean than being called ‘boy’. Just what he needs—another reminder of the happy couple. 

But how had he missed you? Jean wasn't that distracting. It gnaws at him. He doesn’t like it, the idea of his senses betraying him.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly easy getting a read on you when you’re playing hide and seek."

You tilt your head, studying him. "Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough."

"Or maybe…” He steps closer, his instincts screaming at him to stay on guard despite your eyes compelling him to do otherwise. “You're just really good at hiding."

Your eyes meet his, a challenge in your gaze that he's not sure he's the right guy to take on. "Then I guess you'll have to get better at seeking.”

Logan's mind races as he processes the confrontation. He isn't used to feeling off balance, the one on the back foot. Usually, he's the one doing the intimidating, the one making others question their next move. 

But with you, it's different. There's a raw, untamed energy about you that draws him in and sets him on edge at the same time. You're not just another mutant, he knows that much. Like none he's ever met before; you're something more, something savage that mirrors the part of himself he tries to keep under control. The part that craves the hunt, the chase.

He comes to stand near the bed, slowly reaching out to check if you're real or just some kind of projection. You stare up at him, amused, and allow his calloused hand to meet the warm skin of your shoulder.

"I don't understand," Logan mutters and it feels like admitting defeat.

"I didn't want you to see me. So you didn't." You shrug, and even that looks graceful. It takes him a second to get there, but it dawns on him in much the same way your sudden appearance did. Some kind of mental camouflage. Not like prey blending in to hide, but a predator lying in wait before striking.

"But I couldn't even smell you anymore." It's one thing to trick his mind, but it should be impossible to trick his nose. He bares his teeth. "I've had enough of people messing with my head."

You say nothing. Instead, you grin, baring your own teeth right back and revealing elongated canines that glint under the low light. His eyes are drawn to their sharp edges. They're sharper than his own. How easily could you sink them into something? He wagers it wouldn't take much effort at all.

"Down, boy." You cackle, not even doing his ego the service of pretending to be threatened. "Unless you wanna see whose bite is really worse than their bark." You raise a brow at him expectantly.

He scowls, crossing his arms. He's not backing down, but something about this whole encounter is throwing him off. Your self-assuredness is doing something to him, and he's not sure what to make of it.

He regards you warily, taking slow measured steps around the bed. "So… What’s your deal? You’re not a teleporter or a telepath? Great. Then what the hell are you?"

"Hm," You hum deep in your chest, resting your chin on your palm as you track his movements. He figures you aren't gonna maul him in his own room. "Don't worry, your nose isn't failing you," you snort, and his confidence in you not being a telepath drops significantly. "I cloaked myself. Completely. Not even the professor can find me if I don't want him to. I can even trick all that fancy tracking technology. So don't feel too bad."

It's a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Well, it's better than you messing with his head. Impressive too.

"Huh. How 'bout that." He licks his lips and holds out a hand. "Name's Logan."

"I heard." You take his hand in your surprisingly strong grip, turning it palm down instead of shaking it. "I was curious about the new guy. Wanted to see if you'd be worth holding my attention." You drag a feather-light finger along his knuckles, circling them, then rubbing the almost perpetually red divots where his claws are hidden. For whatever reason, he lets you. The barely there touch makes the hair on his arm stand up, fingers twitching in your hold. He only just fights back the desire to lean into it.

"S’that so?" He smirks. "And what do you think now that you've seen me?"

"Well, first impressions, I'm not disappointed." Those stunning eyes rove over him, lingering on the sweatpants he borrowed. He preens under your gaze, understanding Scott even less now. Don't get him wrong, Jean seems like a great girl. But how could he possibly see a woman like you and leave you to your lonesome? Hell, his loss is Logan's gain. Slim couldn't handle you anyway. "But the rest depends."

"On?"

"You. I've been so bored here. Keeping clean, prowling the straight and narrow. What do you say, Logan?" You purr, bringing your free hand up to ghost over his leg, and the muscles in his thigh flex under your touch. "You think you can keep me entertained?"

He arches a brow. "You got a name?" He husks, at some point coming close enough to stand over you.

"No," you reply, his brows furrowing in response. Though he guesses he's got no room to judge. He only knows his name because of his dog tags. "The kids just call me Lynx, for whatever that's worth. Guess it stuck.”

"I can see why." He looks you over, taking you and all your curves in as you rise up to your knees to sit on your haunches. You're wearing a tank. A very thin tank. He can see the shape and heft of your tits, and even though you feel far from cold, he can see the white fabric rubbing against your hard nipples. The name fits you, but Minx would've been his suggestion. "And... What exactly do you do around here? Other than skulking in other people's rooms." He asks, not masking his curiosity.

You pull him onto the bed beside you. He doesn't bounce but the springs squeak under his weight.

He can’t picture you teaching those little brats anything. Maybe you could teach them how to gut a man like a pig, but something tells Logan that might just offend the professor’s sensibilities.

Your top lip pulls up into a snarl, a predator's smile, it draws him in instead of warning him away.

"I'm not too good at the whole guiding the minds of our future thing. For now, I have to hone my powers and learn how to integrate back into proper society." If the wording wasn't enough to tell Logan you're copying Chuck word for word, then the accent you put on does the trick.

Your grip on his hand tightens, pressing a hidden pressure point. Logan’s breath catches as his claws unsheathe, the metallic sound slicing through the air. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to read the intention behind this sudden, intimate maneuver. He smells it instead—musky, semi-sweet—and heat pools low in his stomach, hardening him against his thigh.

You shift, straddling him with feline grace, knees on either side of his hips. His free hand instinctively grips your waist to steady you, though it's clear you don't need his help.

Your long tongue runs along his knuckles—warm, wet, and a little rough. He exhales heavily at the sensation.

His mouth drops open with a pant, watching closely. You trail the muscle up the blades—he shouldn't feel it so viscerally, but he does. He can practically feel the flicks of your tongue in his damn spine—and he smells the rich iron in the air before he sees crimson bleed along his claws.

He can smell you getting wetter too. Whether it's from the blood or the sharpness of his claws is anyone's guess. Logan's hold on you tightens, his hand sliding to your lower back as he pulls you closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest

He watches, fascinated, as your split tongue knits itself back together. It's bizarre, witnessing such rapid healing on someone else. The sight stirs something primal within him.

Blood drips down your chin, a stark contrast against your skin. 

He wants to follow it. So he does, pushing into your space to chase it up your chin and into your mouth.

You gasp, soft and sweet, at the contact, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Running, thankfully, dull nails along his scalp. The metallic taste mingles with the warmth of your mouth as he kisses you deeply, a groan sitting low in his throat.

The kiss, meanwhile, isn't soft or sweet. It's biting and bitter with the taste of your blood, mixing with his own when you bite his bottom lip, fangs piercing the meat as easily as he predicted they would. It makes his head hazy with some kind of bloodlust. Or maybe just regular lust. The two are more intertwined now than ever before. At least as far as Logan can remember, which admittedly isn't saying much. He's got no idea how to begin separating them and he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t remember the last time he's tasted blood other than his own. It makes him groan as he squeezes the fat around your hips in a bruising grip—hard enough to make you moan. He knows you can handle it, handle him.

You pull away, a string of pink saliva connecting your lips to his.

Something kicks Logan into gear, and, without really thinking about the movement, he leans back down, his lips brushing against your chin to lap up the rest of the blood.

"You showed me yours; only fair I show you mine." You unsheathe your own claws, as pretty and deadly as you are. They're about two inches long and even sharper than those teeth.

"Now, how the hell did they manage to domesticate a wild thing like you?" In this pristine and civilized place, you stand out even more than he does. For a creature like you, it must be akin to captivity.

You laugh, though it sounds closer to a chuff. "I was out in the wilderness, hiding the lynxes from poachers and loggers." You say, hooking a claw in the zipper of his hoodie and tugging it down, exposing his bare chest and stomach to your exploring hands. "Saved as many as I could. Spent years out there like that."

“And the professor found you?" Logan asks, intrigued despite himself and despite all the blood in his head rushing to his dick.

"Eventually," you nod, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips, what he's beginning to think is their natural state. "But not before a lot of poachers ended up dead, wondering why they couldn't find a single lynx."

"You hid them," Logan says, tilting his head back. You don't hesitate to take the bait, swooping down to stitch your lips to his neck. You bite more than you suck, breaking skin as you go and not letting how fast the wounds disappear deter you from making more. He grunts, bucking hips coaxed by your own.

"You're not the only one hiding out from the metal man." Your lips drag against his skin as you speak. Lips and teeth and tongue and—

"Fuck." He hisses. His hips buck again and you meet the movement head-on, swiveling your hips like you're riding a bull.

Magneto wants you too then, Logan thinks, dazed.

"So what?" He breathes, dragging the both of you further up the bed, "Now you're fighting the good fight for animals and mutants?"

"Something like that. Don't tell Xavier, but it really just came down to Jean and Oruro being more persuasive than that big brute Magneto sent for me."

He laughs. "I can believe it."

"Now," you grind your hips down, hitting the perfect angle, "do you wanna hear my life story, or do you wanna fuck me?" You say with a grunt. And when you put it like that, the choice is pretty fucking clear.

He twists around, switching your position with you on your back and him hovering over you.

You've got a mischievous look in your lidded eyes as you hump each other through your clothes, sinking your nails into his ass. He flinches, thrusting against you hard enough to push you up the bed, and snarls in your face.

You laugh as he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up. Moans sprinkle through when he presses up against your ass, dick grinding into you. He can feel how hot you are through your thin shorts. You're soaked, enough to turn the fabric of his sweats a darker gray.

Just the smell of you is straining the cotton around his dick, he wants—no needs more. So he leans down, gripping your shorts and ripping a hole down the middle, finding you wetter than he imagined.

You gasp, peeking over your shoulder at him, but he's already on the move. 

He mumbles a gruff fuck as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. He goes to pull himself out but thinks of a better idea.

He wants your cunt in his mouth and he tells you as much. You smirk, more fang than gum, and sway your hips side to side, like you're daring him to take what he wants. He does.

He buries his nose in your snatch and takes a whiff, you moan, grinding back against his face, leaving slick on his nose and cheeks. He lets you, encourages it, even, by gripping your hips and growling deep in his chest. Fur soft where his facial hair is rough, sticking in wet peaks from how much your cunt is drooling.

He sticks his tongue out, not as long as yours, but long enough to get the job done as he buries it into you. Coaxing out more slick and cum as your fluttering warmth squeezes him. 

“Logan,” You moan into his pillow, likely leaving it wet with licking and biting, the same way he's planning on leaving the blanket under you wet with your cum. He grinds against the bed, letting his own need build steadily in his gut and up his spine, the animalistic urge to devour you stronger than anything else.

The taste of you, as heady as you smell, settles heavily on his tongue and down his throat as you rock back and forth, twisting and whining like the wild thing you are.

He leans back just enough to take one of your pussy lips into his mouth, sucking as you take in hitching breaths above him, moving to the other side to give it the same treatment, before circling back to your clit.

He spits on your fluttering hole, licking it back up, and spitting again and he almost thinks you came then and there from how loud you get.

Your thighs are shaking and you're wet enough for him to skip to two fingers right away. He pushes his spit, and his scent, deep into you, stretching you around his thick fingers as he bites at the back of your thighs. You arch your back like a, well, like a cat in heat.

He fucks you on his fingers hard enough that your body shakes with each thrust. He feels the rapid build-up inside of you, shaking and fluttering as he mumbles against your clit about how good you taste and smell, how wet you are for him. 

He feels you come as much as he sees it, your body locking up before abruptly loosening. He pets your flank, “Atta girl.” His voice is rougher than before as you twitch. Soaking his fingers as you lazily hump his hand, making little gasps and whines that he would have thought of as wounded if he didn’t feel how tightly your walls are gripping him.

You lift your head, something satisfied yet still challenging in your amber eyes that makes his hands go to pull his pants down, using your slick to stroke himself, and he knows his pillow will be littered with puncture marks from your teeth and claws, the thought is enough to make him twitch in his hand, a bead of pre that he swipes with his thumb.

He pauses before offering his finger to you, knowing he made the right choice of staying here when you wrap plump lips around his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and sucking like it's his dick.

You pull back, just enough to lick the mixture of the both of you off of his palm, mumbling a demand. “Fuck me, Logan.”

And who is he to deny you when you’re looking at him like that? Wet and wild, curves and claws wrapped up in golden fur like a gift, just for him.

He smirks, “Yes, ma’am.”

[lavenderspence]

unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

masterlist

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins. 

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while. 

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness. 

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all. 

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing. 

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner. 

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes. 

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume. 

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft. 

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known. 

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing. 

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes. 

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way. 

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch. 

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making. 

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all. 

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself. 

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light. 

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was. 

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind. 

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.  

“You’re not doing well.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it. 

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself. 

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.” 

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too. 

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else. 

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling. 

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same. 

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with. 

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned. 

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow. 

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not. 

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were living instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist. 

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner. 

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth. 

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice. 

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years. 

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed. 

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress. 

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely. 

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more. 

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process. 

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[halfagone]

Is it Canon or Fanon?

A little over a week ago, I received a very thought-provoking ask that wondered whether the Fenton parents could be considered good parents after everything they've done throughout the show. I did leave a response to that ask, and you can find the original answer here. But even afterwards, it had me thinking:

Why did we start depicting Jack and Maddie as Bad Parents to begin with?

I aim to answer this question through canon evidence to see where this argument might have come from. Now, something to keep in mind is that we still tend to ignore canon a lot of the time, so there may be some people who won't take this meta to mean all that much anyways. But for the purpose of fanfiction, we have to acknowledge that there needs to be an in-universe explanation to these events and sadly, the 'it's a Butch Hartman show' or 'it's an early 2000s cartoon' excuses don't really cut it.

So let's start with some basic stats. There are 49 episodes to the Danny Phantom cartoon (we will not be using the Graphic Novel, A Glitch in Time, for examples); 20 for the first season, 17 for the second, and 12 for the third. If you looked this up on Google, you might notice that these numbers don't line up with the episode list provided. This is because I counted any two-part episodes as one for convenience's sake. Season 2 has three two-parters: "Reign Storm", "The Ultimate Enemy", and "Reality Trip". Season 3 has "Phantom Planet".

Jack appears for 43 of those episodes, although he does not have any speaking lines in the episode, "Frightmare". Maddie, on the other hand, appears in 40 episodes. The three episodes that Maddie does not appear in, but Jack does, are as follows: "Memory Blank", "Flirting With Disaster", and "Double Cross My Heart".

Let's Start with Season 1:

"Mystery Meat": Jack is shown as dismissive to Danny and his friends' preferences, telling them, "True, I've never seen a ghost, but when I do, I'll be prepared. And so will you, whether you want to be or not." Later on, when Sam and Tucker are visibly shaking and Danny is panting from exhaustion, he doesn't realize something is off about this. When Jazz offers to drive Danny to school, the Fenton parents quickly assume that she's a ghost and go off to track them down... even despite her previous argument that she was mentally an adult (should I be concerned that Jazz called Danny an 'abused, unwanted wretch' to make a point to their parents?) A POINT TO MADDIE, she worried about hurting Jazz if she really wasn't a ghost but Jack quickly dismisses that, as their ghost-hunting device only hurts when gets into human hair (spoiler alert, it gets into Jazz's hair). She also insists that Danny is not a ghost, but unfortunately she ultimately doesn't try to stop Jack when he insist Jazz is a ghost. Standing aside and letting abuse play out does not mean Maddie is innocent of hurting her daughter too.

"Fanning the Flames": When Jazz and Danny are struggling to study for an upcoming test, Jack decides that they should put their kids into the 'Fenton Stockades' which is basically an iron maiden. And yes, the Fentons have an entire floor that is meant to torture people. I feel like that should probably be addressed at some point. A POINT TO MADDIE, she stood her ground and refused to let him put their children inside, and even locks him inside instead.

"Teacher of the Year": After hearing displeasing news about the state of Danny's grades in a parent-teacher conference, Maddie lectures Danny by saying, "Get this straight Danny. You're a Fenton. Fentons get As. Or in your father's case, B minuses." Before this, when Danny tried to explain himself, Jack shuts him up with, "Now that's enough of your sass talk mister." Do a lot of parents act like this? Yes. Does that make this a good, conductive way to help your child improve their grades? No, it does not. In fact, Maddie's response in particular probably reinforces the idea that Danny doesn't fit in with the rest of his family and further proves that Jazz is the favorite child. Not a great parenting moment.

"Fright Knight": In this episode, Jack tells Danny, "If I didn't consider it a sign of weakness, I'd weep with joy!" Not a very promising sign when a parent tells their child that it's wrong to show emotion. It's especially telling, however, when it's crying from joy and not even sadness. Yikes.

"13": This is the episode where Jazz 'dates' Johnny briefly, and we see Danny stalking them on their dates. I've seen people give Danny a decent amount of flack for that as well, so this would be a good time to say that the Fenton parents were there too and even encouraged him to keep stalking his sister. Danny was wrong to ignore Jazz's privacy like that, but he definitely learned it somewhere.

"Public Enemies": Here we see more of the Fenton parents' aggression towards ghosts. We get a line from Jack: "I'm gonna tear that ghost kid apart into a million different-" Notice something here? He recognizes that Phantom is a ghost 'kid' and yet still fully intends to shoot at him with the intent to hurt if not straight-up kill him. The only time Maddie disagrees with him is to insist that she does the dirty work because she has better aim than him. These are not the type of people you should let children stay with.

"Maternal Instincts": Okay, I gotta say it, this is a really cute episode. We get to see Maddie reminiscing over how close she and Danny used to be and wishing they had that bond again. Unfortunately she does get some points docked off for deciding what they should do as a bonding activity instesd of asking what Danny wanted to do and maybe learning more about his interests and who he is as a person now that he's a teenager. But there is this really sweet moment where Maddie tells Danny 'I love you' at the campsite which absolutely melted my heart and then later on when she saves Danny from the ghosts, Danny tells her she's awesome and gives her a hug. So sweet. But then she kinda ruins it by asking her son to act as a distraction and- Please do not ask your teenage children to keep skeevy old guys 'entertained' when you know he's a creep. A POINT TO JACK, while all this is going on he's defending his daughter and even shouts, "Back off, she's a minor!" That's some Dr. Doofenshmirtz energy right there, I respect it. He also talks about making Jazz an action figure, which was a really cute moment amidst the chaos.

"The Million Dollar Ghost": This episode is filled with some great Danny-Jack bonding moments and goes to show how much Danny cares about his father that he's willing to get caught to make Jack feel better about himself. We also get to see how much Jack cares about how Danny views him and he wants to be someone in Danny's eyes. Unfortunately, this is the episode where Danny gets lectured for not doing all his lab chores, such as cleaning the beakers and changing the ecto-filtrator- despite knowing that the portal could blow up if they don't change in time and knowing that Danny is bad at cleaning his own room. And we literally get a scene where Jack knocks something over and tells Danny to clean it up because he was too busy running around to do it himself. Is it important to give children chores? Yes, it teaches them responsibility. You should not be asking them to deal with hazardous, dangerous chemicals that can literally cause an explosion capable of killing people. Something to keep in mind.

Now let's look at Season 2:

"Doctor's Disorders": In this lovely (sarcasm) episode, we have Jack saying to Danny's face: "Poor Jazz. She's always been my favorite." I don't feel like this one needs much more explanation for how horrible this is. Also, this isn't really too relevant to the bad-parent-thing and more to the "they wouldn't take Danny's reveal well under other circumstances" thing, because Maddie literally says to Tucker: "Everybody knows humans can't have ghost powers." Which would technically, probably, dehumanize Danny in their eyes.

"Identity Crisis": There's one line in particular in this episode I wanted to point out, which is from Jack where he says, "Safety features? Why, safety features are for punks." ...I know this is probably supposed to be a joke, but when you think about it, it's even worse than you might think. In fanon we do tend to stress how forgetful the Fentons are when it comes to lab safety, but it's one thing to forget and it's a whole other thing to purposefully dismiss it. I could even argue that we're doing the Fentons a service by characterizing them as simply forgetful.

"The Fenton Menace": This is one of the episodes I referenced in the original ask as well, for its... plethora of concerning material. There are lines such as, "Whether it's air land or sea I won't stop until we capture a ghost and tear it apart. Molecule by molecule." A POINT TO MADDIE, she told her family she loved them by saying, "Nothing like spending quality family time with the people you love." However she immediately loses those points when she and Jack attempt to 'spin the crazy' out of Danny. The episode transcript reveals Danny's reaction to this, which is described by, "Danny screaming, his face and hair flying around. Zoom out to show him strapped to a table, which is attached to a metal arm. Zoom out to show the metal arm connected to a centrifuge-like device on the ceiling." As well as, "Danny is shaking, hair sticking up with bags under his eyes." Is this supposed to be a joke? I wouldn't know because quite frankly, I'm not laughing.

"The Fright Before Christmas": So in this episode we learn why Danny hates Christmas! Which is because he got peed on by a dog. As a baby. What kind of parent lets their baby get peed on by a dog? Again, child neglect is a criminally punishable offense, and if they had left him out, in the cold, with dog piss on him, we could have had a lot bigger problems here. They also ignore both their children for most of this episode due to their arguing, although they go back later on and tell Danny that he shouldn't be alone for Christmas and where was all this concern before?

"Secret Weapons": Ah... This is the episode where it happens. Here we get the infamous interaction. Please note how a ghost is referred to as an 'it'. Not a person, not even a kid. But an 'it' that can feel pain that will go ignored.

Jazz: "Does it hurt the ghost?" Maddie: [laughs] "Oh, Jazz! You know your father and I don't care about that. Jack: "Yeah! If we hear it scream, then we know it's working."

"Micro-Management": At the very end of this episode, Jack makes a comment to Danny, "I'm so proud. Our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president. Here's to you son." Clearly it's meant to be a compliment, but I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't take this as a compliment.

"Masters of All Time": This one takes a more distressing turn, because after Maddie catches Danny for snooping around, she has his strapped down to a table and fires a laser at him to interrogate him, thinking he's a ghost (though the laser doesn't hit him, just threatens him, which... isn't much better). And this is after he's already insisted that he's her son. He is still very clearly a child, and even if she doesn't believe that he's her son (for admittedly understandable reasons, people usually remember when they bear children), the fact that she strapped him to a table at all does not look favorably on her. Especially when he very clearly believed that she was his mother, and he was her son. And she still did this to him. Yes, there were time shenanigans involved, but that doesn't make this any easier on Danny just because he knows the truth.

"Reality Trip": This episode showcases that the Fenton parents can actually be decent parents. While they have a hard time believing the truth at first, they do eventually accept it. However, it is still important to remember that Danny could have never known what their reaction would be, so his fear is understandable and rooted in real concern for his life. Here are some of the best points from this transcript:

Jack: "Imagine, our own son has had ghost powers all this time and has kept them a secret from us. [confused] But we love him! [turning to Maddie] I wonder why he didn't trust us enough to tell us." Jazz: "[sarcastically] Hmm, let me guess. [mimicking Jack] "Hey, Maddie, let's destroy the ghost!" [mimicking Maddie] "No, Jack, let's dissect the ghost." [mimicking Jack again] "I know, let's catch the ghost and rip it apart molecule by molecule!" [normal voice, sarcastic again] You guys are so understanding." [Jack and Maddie drop their gazes, ashamed.]

Moving onto Season 3:

"Eye for an Eye": This is more a passing mention, but Jack seems to be a little obsessed with the GIW and huge fans of their work, and you do see it some more in "Livin' Large" later on in the season as well.

"Girls' Night Out": We see Jack trying to make an effort with Danny in this episode again. I did point out in the original ask reply that Jack was obviously trying to be a good father for Danny, which definitely deserves some points. However, it is still important to point out how generally uninterested Danny was in the bonding activity. It goes back to how Maddie ignored the chance to give Danny a choice, and how dismissive they tend to be towards him. I still want to award Jack a point for looking for advice from 'Father/Son Relationships For Stupids!' but I do so half-heartedly. Their interactions in this episode definitely reek with discomfort, but considering everything that has gone down in between now and "The Million Dollar Ghost", that does make sense.

"Torrent of Terror": This is another instance of extreme lack of safety precautions- the airbags don't deploy? In the GAV??? Somewhere out there, OSHA is crying.

"Forever Phantom": Maddie and Jack show a lot of anti-Phantom rhetoric in this episode. So this tracks how uncomfortable and/or threatened Danny might feel at home. Some examples include:

Jack: "He keeps this up he's liable to make people forget he's nothing but a putrid rancid ball of self-aware protoplasm."

Maddie: "Don't be fooled sweetie. He's up to something. Remember that time he attacked the mayor? Or stole everyone's Christmas presents? Once a filthy ghost always a filthy ghost."

"Livin' Large": Something to remember, the GIW intend to fire a missile into the Ghost Zone after gaining access to the Fentons' portal. While they didn't have the password right away, it cannot be understated that the Fentons basically gave away their house in exchange for wealth. Thankfully the missile was just a fake and not a real weapon of mass destruction, but do not mistake this to mean that- had it been real- the GIW wouldn't have gone through with it. And the Fenton parents would have been just as responsible.

And that concludes our canon research for this argument! Let's wrap things up with some stats. Of the 49 episodes in the show, we have evidence in 21 episodes. That is roughly 43% of the show, and this does not include comments that Danny has made about his parents and how they treat him. Obviously, at the end of the day, human error is possible. There is always a chance that I could have missed another piece of information, or perhaps another thoughtful addition to this list. However, 43% is no laughing matter.

Yes, the Fenton parents had their shining moments, but with all the other evidence presented that overshadows those little gems, can you confidently say that they are good parents? And most of all, if you were in Danny's shoes, would you say the same thing?

It's easy to excuse this as a cartoon. When you're writing in this world, playing with these characters, that excuse instantly evaporates.

Thank you for reading, I hope you all learned something about the Fenton parents like I did.

[thisismeracing]

okay but a request for a new face around the paddock and Lando having a huge crush and gets some assistance to ask her out 😔

Hi, love!! <3 Since you didn't specify if it was a smau, a blurb, or a full imagine, I decided to go with a blurb, 'key? I hope you like it!! *mwah*

New girl | LN4

― Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (sher/her) ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol, getting stuck on the roof, and typos; ― my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ― check some exclusive pieces here ― you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Someone was playing early 2000s remixes, the sound escaping to the roof where Yn was sitting, nursing a half-full red cup. She was a bit tired. It was her first week attending a race, and things were more hectic than anticipated, though Charles told her it was crazy when you weren't used to the pace.

Still, she was looking for the next Sunday. The next plane ride, the next country to explore.

"Oh- hey," Lando waved after opening the door and finding her sitting in one of the small couches. His face read surprise with a tinge of confusion, but, in reality, he knew she would be there. Carlos told him as much. His friend actually encouraged him to go after her. Lando was infatuated the second he saw her, and when he discovered she was Charles' friend he was quick to ask Carlos for help, which coming to think about now wasn't the best idea.

Maybe he should have asked Charles instead. He probably knew her better. She was the new girl for Carlos too, having just met her the same day Lando did. Or just tried to get to her without any help, but then again, she was so beautiful and so cool, he felt like the whole paddock stopped the first day Yn showed up, though rationally he knew things kept going as usual. He was the distracted one.

"Hi," she waved back, a small smile gracing her lips before she took the cup to her lips sipping whatever drink she was nursing.

"Can I- huh- Can I stay here too?"

Yn nodded, "It's a bit packed in there, huh?" she asked before patting the spot beside her. "Carlos told me I could get some air here instead of in front of the house, the air is flowing good there, but there's still too much noise- and drunk people," she ranted, and Lando thought it was cute the way she would explain things he hasn't even asked yet.

"I'm Lando," the British extended his hand to her, and they shook it right before she said her name as if wasn't etched on his mind, and he sat beside her.

"I know," there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "There's only twenty of you, and you happen to be really close to my friend's teammate."

He chuckled, taking a pull from his beer, and sensing someone behind him. When Lando turned he saw Carlos and Charles at the door, and before he could stop them both, the noise of the door closing echoed around.

"Shit."

"Was it the door?" Yn asked, getting up.

"I think the wind closed it," he tried to keep it cool, even though he was finally understanding why Carlos had asked to borrow his phone.

"Can you call one of the guys to open it up?" she asked, and then added, "For when we want to get back...I'm fine for now."

He smiled, and then his face twisted in a grimace, "I forgot my phone with the guys."

"Mine doesn't have any signal here," she stated, but didn't seem too worried.

"Do they know you're here?"

Yn nodded, "You?"

"Carlos will probably come looking for me any minute now," he tried to convince himself, taking another pull from his beer.

They sat in silence for a beat, the wind making their cheeks cold and the noises of the party muffled by the distance, until Yn started talking about racing, Lando following the train, catching the ride and the opportunity to talk with her and not embarrass himself trying to figure a good topic.

"How do you keep up with all the traveling?"

He chuckles, "Sometimes you don't."

"Oh-"

"Yeah, it can be tiring for the drivers as well, but we just...get used to it I guess. Most of us- all of us, have been driving since we were kids."

"mmhhh, so a bunch of outlaws?"

"What?"

"Driving when it wasn't even legal yet," and she answered with a straight face, no hint of amusement, so much Lando thought she was talking serious, and when he opened his mouth to explain, a nervous look crossed his features, Yn started laughing.

"That was a terrible joke, but you fell for it so..."

"Horrible," he shook his head with a small smile, tipping his bottle upon his mouth. "How about you? How are you keeping up? Are you coming for the next race?"

"I'm exhausted. But I'm also excited about the next stop. I'm definitely joining. I'm just getting my maps ready because Ferrari has a bunch of media stuff this next week and Charles won't be able to be a huge company in exploring...not that he was a big one this last week, but, yeah."

"I can go with you...that is if you want, I can keep you company, I know the next stop pretty well, I used to go there on vacation with my family during my teenage years," Lando shoots his shot, half expecting her to let him down gently, but Yn gifts him with a bright big smile.

"Would you?"

"Yeah, totally."

"Perfect then," she crossed her legs sitting more comfortably on the couch, neck resting on the headrest, while she watched the dark sky above them. "Now, tell me about your side gig- Carlos told me you're into DJ stuff?"

Lando crossed his legs too, his shoulders aligned with hers, staring at the sky as well. He turned his head to the side, and she was already looking at him. He bit his lips to keep the infatuated smile from showing and started telling her about the things he liked to do besides racing. Yn shared with him as well. She told how she and Charles had met, how she loved music, and though she was into sports, she didn't practice any. She told him about her family, studies, and job. And Lando listened to everything attentively, feeling his silly little crush grow with each giggle and look she shared.

A couple hours later, when Carlos and Charles went to check, Yn had her head on Lando's shoulder, both were sound asleep on the couch. The Ferrari duo snapped a picture, and a high five for playing cupid to what would eventually become one of the paddock's favorite couples.

[botanicadrabbles]

Hydrangeas'

Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Hanahaki fic. Established relationship, jealousy, self-doubt, relationship anxiety, blood, vomit.

Part 1, Part 2

Word count: 1,241

Hell was never some where people actively wanted to end up; Tales of an eternal afterlife of suffering and punishment, when you first arrived in hell that’s what you expected. Opening your eyes to see a… Some what inviting place, was absolutely not what you had expected.

However that was years ago, now you’re helping Charlie with the hotel, no real want to redeem yourself. Charlie always asks you why and you have to just shrug and not really explain, your relationship with her father was a secret and you didn’t know how she would react to him dating someone else other than her mother.

You always heard from Charlie how amazing their love story is and how deeply in love they where, “I mean he still wears her ring” she would say. You always deluded yourself to think the reason he kept it on was because he still was in love with her. That he still solely cared about her, you felt you had no place to tell him he has to take it off, he was grieving the loss of his wife and you have to respect that.

But when with him, and just him. You never felt any pressure to be something different. Dancing around in his flower garden, his arms resting around your waist, yours hanging loosely around his shoulders.

Music was playing softly in the background, post modern jukebox. He always says how he loves more classical and older styled music compared to the new way music was made, but you where born in the early 2000’s and enjoyed the music you grew up with. So you made a deal (though not a magical one) that we only listen to music covered by them so we both get enjoyment out of music while with eachother.

Stopping for a moment you detached from him to look at the garden, that is why you where invited over after all. To see his flower garden, he stays at the hotel but doesn’t trust any of the staff in the palace to actually look after the garden properly so he comes every day to make sure they’re being well looked after.

Lilies…Lilly of the valley… Royal lilly… Spider lilly… His love for Lillith ran deep and you’re no longer sure to yourself if he loves you as much.

“Y/N.. Are you alright? You’ve been looking at the flowers for awhile” He says, his voice is so sweet to you and you’re starting to hate it, you hate how jealous you’re becoming…How possessive. You want people say how in love he seems with you, you want flowers to be planted and taken care of as well as he does as these for you. You want to be more with him.

Ofcourse though, he doesn’t give you much more time to think as he scoops you into his arms, pulling you into a deep hug, lifting you off of the ground. Looking down was a mistake as you realise how quickly and how far you had gone off of the ground now.

Like any sane person you cling onto him worried about falling, souls where a fragil thing, and that’s all you where. A sinner, a lost soul who wasn’t good enough to get into heaven.

You could feel the two of you turning slowly in the air like a ballerina in a music box, scared still you look up at Lucifer and he has the worlds most loving and dotefull eyes. The moment seemed perfect, you hadn’t had a first kiss yet and thought it was now or never you swear you feel him pulling away but then feel the rain coming down, he laughs a bit and despite being confused you laugh along as he carefully but quickly hurries the both of you inside.

You can’t help but smile and laugh more at your circus leader boyfriend’s soaked hair and clothing making him look a bit like a sewer rat. He smiles too and for the first moment since being there today there was no doubt, no anxiety or second thoughts about your relationship with him.

“I’ll go get a towel for you” He says grinning with his sharp teeth you nod in response, “Okay Luce” you say and wonder the foyer into the overtly large dining room, raising your eyebrow at the grand and glaringly expensive dining room.

Lucifer doesn’t take long too come back puting the towel on your damp head for you to dry yourself off with. He takes a seat on the chair in front of you as he grabs your hands..Which forces you to drop the towel and look at him. “You’re so gorgeous Y/N” he’d tell you, you smile. You can’t help it, he has that effect on you. Something about him naturally makes you fall for him, wanting his praise and approval, some type of weird spell was cast on you the day you met him.

You didn’t even realise when you said it, fucking hell you regretted it the moment it came past your lips. You felt his hands retract from his, watched as his face fell and fear take over his previously peaceful and happy expression.

“I love you” is what you said..Regret is what you felt when he reacted that way, hurt is what you felt when he said “I’m sorry?” as if the complete notion of ever being loved by someone was lost on him. He laughed a bit when you didn’t respond, as if your feelings where a joke and what you had said was some type of childish prank.

Your heart ached, it twisted and turned and you where still, frozen in place as your heart begged your brain to start to allow you to move, run away. You can’t deal with him laughing in your face. It hurt. It wasn’t until the vomit crawled up into your throat that you felt your eyes tearing up. The rain didn’t seem to be a concern anymore as your legs moved.

They moved faster than you thought you could ever possibly do. Your own mind washing out the way he called out for you, the concerned voices of the hotel patrons and guests as you ran past and into your room.

You didn’t realise the breath you where holding, the amount of emotions you had until your legs trembled and gave out in your bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Holding onto the bench you felt the vomit come back up your throat. That horrible feeling of vile burning the back of it until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave in.

As you vomited into the toilet, heaving and gasping for air, feeling as if your lungs where crushing under your ribs. Tears brimming your eyes as you hoped for it to pass.

The metallic taste in your mouth brought you out of the daze, confused you pat your finger tips to the soft skin of your lips.. Blood, there was blood on your lip, looking down at the toilet basin you see some of what you expect, pale vomit.. You didn’t expect to see a mix of blood as well as blue and while hydrangea petals.

You thought to yourself how stupid this was.

This had to be some weird curse, you read about it when you where alive. It was fictional right?

Well…Fiction is always based on some type of truth..

[xanticore]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Genre: fluff

Note: this is my first metallica fic so pleaseee keep that in mind. I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Setting: late 90s ~ early 2000s..ish

Summary: Kirk is on tour and he decides to stop by the local guitar store. He ends up staying longer than expected when he overhears a riff that sounded impressive. Assuming it was a guy, but was taken aback when it was a girl...a girl who doesn't seem to know who he is.

It was the weekend and I was starting my weekend off, our next show being on Thursday and Friday of next week. This gave me time to myself to find local comic stores and guitar shops. I was honestly in my own little world as time passed by quickly; I didn't mind at all because I was going to do the whole process again on Sunday. I left the comic book store with a new manga and some new released volumes. All Junji Ito works, no surprise there.

The next stop of the day was the guitar shop. The air was cool and the store was just so fucking huge, It was heaven to me. The store had a variety of items. Vinlys, cassettes, cds, and even some band posters...but my main focus was the guitar wall. All different types of styles and colors, different collaborations of pop culture, anything you could think of-this store probably had it.

A guitar that has been newly stock was the black and red Les Paul. It looked so gothic and vampiric. Younger me was just screaming at me to get it...which It was my plan. I asked a worker to take it off the shelf so I could practice some riffs on it. Just as I imagine; it was a smooth and crisp sound. A sound I was looking feel and I probably would make this guitar debut when I head to Japan.

It was already 5 pm and James was just blowing up my phone. I forgot all about our band dinner. I sighed packing up my things and unhooked the guitar from the amp. On my way towards the front to ring up my guitar, I overheard a riff coming from a room that was being occupied. It looked like it was a guitar lesson in session.

I continued to listen and soon heard a solo. It was definitely in the metal genre. Whoever that dude was; shredding that guitar like it was the last thing on earth. It intimidated me how good it sounded. Almost making me jealous of how I didn't think to use this type of style in a song.

I heard them stop and minor shuffling going on in the room. I quickly walked away and acted like I was looking at the vinyls. I glanced over at the door and saw a tall beautiful girl. She nearly took my breath away. The way she played really matched her style of clothing. She was a goth but it was familiar style I've seen in Japan. Her hair was dyed a dark red and her make up was flawless.

I needed to compliment her and asked her about that solo of hers. I was stupidly stuck in my place but managed to get to her with a sudden boost of confidence. "H-Hey, nice guitar. I heard you playing in that room. You sounded amazing." I complimented her with a smile in admiration.

She smiled back and looked somewhat excited. Did she recognize me? Did she not expect a guitarist from the most known metal band of all time-

"Thank you so much! Are you also a fan of Malice Mizer? I was playing one of their songs."

"Malice Mizer? never heard of them.."

The girl frowned but soon lit up when she started to explain the band to me. "It's a rock band from Japan. Visual Kei style of music over there. I'm really into bands like X Japan and Dir En Grey."

I've never heard any X Japan songs but I definitely seen posters of them in Shibuya. I know they are well loved and idolized in the era of rock music over there.

"There's actually a Malice Mizer cassette next to you of their new album. You should buy it and give them a listen? They won't disappoint." She giggled. I eyed her movements when she moved closer to me, only to pick up the packaged cassette tape. The cover had a silver cross and the band's name in black in the middle. But enough about them, her little giggle was just so cute. If only I could hear that from her more often.

"I'm Kirk."

"(name)"

A beautiful name as well. I didn't want to add anymore details of my name because I knew it wouldn't matter and honestly...i'm really enjoying that. It felt more natural to speak with a non fan. Nothing was forced and she genuinely seemed to enjoy just talking about her favorite music; unlike some girls i'd meet at clubs.

"Well Kirk, I hope to see you around?"

I didn't say a word but I just nodded. I tried to stay positive but it was a pain I wasn't gonna see her again. I bought my guitar and cassette watching the cashier put it in a case. I left the store happy and somewhat sad, but, seeing that girl smile just brighten up my mood...

I hope to see her again.

a/n: so what we thinking?? yay or nay?

gif from: @ba11ltongue

dividers: cr to owners

[dc-x-reader-stuff]

Please do omg imagine how embarrassed Timmy would be if you approached him explaining that he’s doing something wrong at the bowling lane or something and he gets all flustered

Lowkey perfect first meeting???

Ty anon AGSJFJDNF-

This man would NOT know bowling alley etiquette fr-

Tim Drake x Lane Attendant!Reader

Warnings? ; none

—————————————————————

“Hey, can you tell lane thirteen to stop bowling for a minute? Can’t do the ball return they asked for if they keep bowling, it’ll only make it worse.”

You sighed through your nose, the crackled message of one of the maintenance guys making it’s way through your earpiece. It connected to the walkie-talkie you have attached to your belt, and hooked over your ear to stay in place.

Lane thirteen had called for a ball return a couple minutes ago, and Lanie - one of your co-workers at the front desk - called it in so someone in maintenance could go get whatever was keeping the bowling balls from returning. The problem was was that they just - kept bowling. Multiple balls of all different weights were sitting on the ball return before the customer had gotten the lane, which meant free pickings for them instead of having to wait for their ball to get unstuck to continue to play.

You pressed the button to turn on the mic of your earpiece. “Got it. Heading over there now.”

You dropped your hand, and strode over to the lane as quick as you could while walking. One person in a red hoodie with rolled up sleeve stood up, just about ready to bowl again. “Um - sir?”

He turned at the sound. You were so glad it was a slow day, you didn’t have the energy to raise your voice to get his attention.

“Oh - uh—“ , he noticed the bowling alley’s emblem on your work shirt right away. “Yeah?”

“Hi - um - so, the maintenance workers are working on the ball return, it’s just that you need to stop bowling for a good few minutes so they can properly get them back to you. Otherwise they’ll get more stuck and it causes more of a hassle for the maintenance guys to get them and everything.”, you explain politely, the customer service voice practically ingrained into your instincts now.

“Oh.”, the man thought for a second, realizing that he was making things more difficult. “Oh! Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I couldn’t continue bowling after that, I’m—“

He laughed nervously, a red tinge blooming on his cheeks. The man rubbed the back of his neck, messing up the dark hair that rested against it. Parted down the middle, too, with bangs like that popular hairstyle those characters from late nineties and early 2000s movies had. Kinda cute, if you were being honest.

But this was a customer, and you were too tired to scold yourself to think about all the characters that had hair that looked like his, albeit his was more long and messy, in a weirdly well-kept way.

“—I’m sorry, this is my first time bowling and I didn’t really know that continuing was gonna make things worse.”

You laughed with him in courtesy, which made things a little less awkward. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. Completely understandable. I’ll make sure to let you know when your good to continue, ok?”

The man nods, pushing the sleeves of hoodie past his elbows again. “Yeah, that sounds good. Again I’m so sorry about that—“

“Hey, it’s no worries.”, you waved off his concern. “It’s not the first time I had to tell someone not to bowl while the mechanics were back there.”

“Alright”, he gave you a smile, and gulped. Unbeknownst to you, he was internally screaming at himself for acting the way he did. He didn’t expect to be so… off kilter about this.

Making problems in a bowling alley?

What he wouldn’t give to be called out to help with another villain attack in Gotham at this moment, and save from embarrassing himself even more in front of you.

“Should be good now. Tell lane thirteen they’re all good to continue bowling now.”

Your co-worker’s voice went straight into your ear, jolting you from your thoughts. You pressed your thumb on the mic button once more. “Alrighty. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You looked back over at the man you were talking to on lane thirteen, who just awkwardly moved the bowling ball he had from one ball to another. You opened your mouth to speak to him, but the ball return machine whirred back on, the bowling balls rolling up back onto the rack. A few of them came up one after another, clacking against the others as they rolled back into place.

“You’re all good to go now”, you said, giving the man a smile. He casted his eyes from the machine over to you again.

“Awesome - thank you so much, and I apologize again, for not knowing.”

“It’s no problem - and don’t worry about it, at least you know now, right?”

The man nodded, and smiled back at you. “Right.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” You slowly backed away, and he got ready to bowl once more. He wound his arm back, and quickened his pace up to the foul line before releasing the ball onto the slippery lane.

The ball cracked onto the lane, bouncing a couple times before it rolled with a tilt, knocking down about ten of the twelve pins. Before you turned around, your eyes went up to the television screen that showed what frames, which game was being played, and which player was bowling.

The man had input his name as Tim.

Well, he looked like a Tim for sure. Certainly fit the vibe.

You hummed to yourself with a shrug, and turned on your heel to grab a rag and a spray bottle to clean off some of the lane tables.

[wonwoosthetic]

could you do joel and younger gf/wife (like in her early/mid twenties) and some young guy hits on her while they’re together in like one of sarah’s soccer games or soemthing and joel gets all jealous and insecure

Only You, Only Me

a/n – <3 thank you for the request, I hope you and everyone else enjoys this ˙ᵕ˙ also: having to call football soccer in this fic hurt my European heart haha😭 pre-outbreak!joel was a softy, you cannot convince me otherwise

pairing – pre-outbreak!joel miller x female!reader

warnings – slight jealousy and insecurities, but besides that A LOT of fluff ˙ᵕ˙, a quick mention of sex

word count – 7.1k

series masterlist

2000

You had sprinted half the way from the bus stop to the soccer field, running the other half, only coming to a stop when you finally reached the entrance. The dress you had chosen to wear had started turning into a slight regret as you had to hold it down from flashing everyone behind you, but the weather didn't let you wear anything below knee height.

With a few more steps forward, greeting the people by the footstalls and other parents with smiles, you finally found yourself right in front of the field, your eyes immediately raking over the space, trying to find the set of bouncy chocolate curls you knew all too well. Sarah was quick to find, making the smile on your face widen instantly as you watched her sprint towards the ball rolling over the grass. You could watch her in her element every free minute of your life. Even though she wasn't right next to you, you could hear her giggles as they had engraved themselves into your brain.

For a second, you directed your attention toward the far back on the right, where your partner's usual seat was, only to find him another second later. A handsome face like his just stands out from the crowd. You grinned to yourself once you noticed he hadn't caught onto your arrival yet, getting to see his perfectly shaped side profile as he watched his daughter and her team hopefully win on another sunny day.

With a grin decorating your face, you almost skipped over to your boyfriend who was sitting on one of the benches at the lowest height, while the other parents had occupied the higher seats on the platform. Passing one grandstand and walking along the length of the entire field before you'd reach the one Joel was sitting on. Too focused on what was going on right in front of his eyes, he didn't even notice your figure coming closer and closer. It was only when you had almost sat down, and your perfume reached his nose that he turned his head to the side.

"Well, look who's finally here," he greeted you with a smile, opening his left arm to welcome you into the space right next to him. 

"Finally? You know damn well I rushed out of my class to be here on time." With a roll of your eyes and a slight chuckle, you joined him on the bench, sliding into his arm swiftly. Sadly, as the new college year had just started, your work as a TA was more asked than ever. Multiple students had enrolled in your tutoring sessions - many more than you expected, explaining why you had to create an extra class for this Saturday, not finding any other available spots during the week. That's why you had been slightly late to the usual Saturday game that you would usually always attend hand-in-hand with Joel.

With a quick peck on the lips after a mumble of, "I know, I know," by your partner, the welcome wagon was finished, and your focus was back on the field. Joel's hand had quickly found its comfort spot on your thigh.

"What's the score?" You asked him, setting down the bag you had carried on your left shoulder.

A proud grin made his lips curl up. "1 to 0. Sarah assisted the first goal."

With a nod, you copied his facial expression. "Well done," you spoke quietly, eyes trained on the girl ahead of you. 

"How were the kids?" To anybody else, his question would let one believe that you worked in a kindergarten or primary school, not at a college where the students were barely a few years younger than you. But you knew what he meant. It still made you chuckle.

Your hands found his, running your softer fingers over his dry knuckles. You always told him to start using hand cream since his work forced him to use his hands so much, and yet he never did.

"Surprisingly motivated, not gonna lie. For a Saturday. I expected like no motivation, no raised hands, no answers or questions, or anything really. But they were really up on everything and seemed genuinely interested," you explained to him.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle, taking your hand into his much bigger one, and turning his head slightly towards you. "Well, if I had a hot TA that turned up in summer dresses to class, I'd also be motivated to go on a Saturday." His comment caught your attention as you grinned shyly at him, pressing your lips together.

"Wow," you nodded along. "Thanks for telling me they only want to be there because of my looks and not because I'm a good TA, and they can actually understand the material better thanks to me." Adding a joking scoff at the end, getting a chuckle from him in return.

His hand came up to brush over your hair, "I would never doubt your ability as a TA. I know you're the smartest person I've ever come across.", He pulled you in so he could place a kiss on your temple, whispering into your ear, "But I just wanted to make sure you know how beautiful you look."

A chuckle escaped your lips as you straightened the hem of your dress. "I think you showed me that today already in the bathroom, huh?" Grinning teasingly at him as you reminded him of his inability of holding himself back when it came to certain outfits you'd wear - one of them being dresses, specifically summer dresses. The inability, that had made you almost late for class today as he just had to take you in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, bent over the sink, interrupting you as you tried to get ready and look presentable for the day. You weren't complaining though. You'd never complain.

A smug smile made its way onto his lips as his fingers dug back into the flesh of your thighs, the grip almost surprising you.

"And I'd gladly show you again later, darlin'." His remark earned him a slap on the upper arm as you told him to focus back on his daughter's competition, the smiles not leaving either one of your faces.

Thanks to all the running, you noticed your throat had started to run dry, and you were in a very sudden but desperate urge to find something to drink. Glancing around the seat, you tried to find out if Joel had gotten himself something, only to your dismay to find absolutely nothing.

You got his attention with a quick slap to his upper leg, "I'm gonna go get something to drink, do you want anything?"

Without hesitation, your partner reached with his right hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "Should I go?" 

But you declined his offer, "No, no, it's fine, I'll be quick. Do you want something?"

He handed you over his wallet as he shook his head. "No, I'm good, thank you." Squeezing your thigh one last time before letting you stand up. Once your frame left the seating area, he noticed your bag laying on the bench and pulled it in closer, setting it down on his right side to keep an eye on it.

While you were making your way a little further back to where you had come from, the echoes of shouting and clapping became quieter and quieter with each step, making you turn around every now and then to make sure you wouldn't miss anything important.

You waltzed up to the woman in the snack truck and ordered two water bottles, knowing Joel would eventually want something to drink as well and Sarah still had hers in her backpack. As you waited for her to get them, the sound of a whistle ringing over the field reached your ear, indicating that the first half of the match was finished and they'd have a break now. Perfect timing.

You paid, thanked her one more time, and left to go back to your seat, getting a glimpse of the group of girls by the side of the field getting a speech of motivation before breaching out to find each of their parents to spend the break with. As you had your head down, remembering the slightly uneven side of the field where you were walking, you didn't catch the figure taking a few steps back. Not until you walked right into them. You immediately started to apologize and looked up, only to find Sarah's coach looking down at you, his hand on your upper arms as if he was afraid you'd trip.

"Oh, I- sorry, sorry I didn't look where I was going," you stumbled over your words, slightly embarrassed by what had happened.

The blonde man shook his head, a million-dollar smile wide on his face. "No, don't worry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have walked backwards, I don't know what I was thinking." His hands were still very evidently on your skin.

You chuckled, "What? Why were you walking backwards?"

He just shrugged, "I don't even know anymore." Laughing along with his comment. "Ben, by the way. Ben Miller." He dropped his hands, only to reach out with his right one for you to accept. Of course, you knew who he was. Sarah had been going to the training sessions of this team for a good year now, and the day she came home, beaming from ear to ear, talking all about how much fun her coach was, you knew they had found the perfect team for the little girl. You remembered her telling you all about the coincidence of meeting someone else with the same last name as her. Neither Joel nor you had the heart to tell her how common their last name had been in the US.

"Oh, yeah, I know," you let your palms touch, shaking his hand as you introduced yourself, holding on to the water bottles with your left arm, already feeling the condensation wetting the material of your dress.

"So," Ben cleared his throat. "You're Sarah's sister, right?"

His question almost made you choke on air. You knew you weren't the same age as most of the parents here, and the age gap between you and Joel had been a big subject to literally everyone but the two of you, but you had never gotten mistaken for that.

"Sister?! No, no, no," you quickly stopped him, trying to play off the continuous embarrassment with more laughter.

While you continued your conversation with the coach, hoping to leave a good impression as the woman taking care of Sarah and loving her father, the duo was in their own little world.

The youngest Miller skipped over to where Joel was now standing up, her backpack tucked underneath his seat as he held out her water bottle.

"Daddy, daddy, did you see? Did you see me?" The excitement was radiating off her, making the father smile brightly as his daughter ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Yes, baby girl, I saw you," he petted the top of her hair, noticing the few strands that had fallen out of her ponytail. "You wanna redo your hair?"

Sarah jumped back, "No!" Touching her head.

"No?" Joel repeated.

"My hair is okay," she assured him with a hand sign she cutely formed, making him chuckle and nod as he sat back down, finally handing her over the bottle so she could down the cold water.

"Did you see Y/N arrive?" He asked her, wanting to make sure she was aware of the fact that you didn't dare to miss out on her match.

Sarah smiled brightly and started nodding her head up and down quickly. "And she's talking to coach Ben."

"No, she went to go get some water. It's hot, you know? You need to stay hydrated," he made sure to add a little anecdote as he straightened out the small jersey she was wearing.

But the little girl shook her head as she pointed straight forward to the right. "No, she's talking to Coach Ben right now." Joel's ears perked up. His head snapped towards the direction, his eyes immediately finding your figure, only half covered by the frame of the man in front of you. He couldn't read lips, so God knows what the two of you were talking about, but he didn't need to know. Your bright smile and clear giggles didn't need a translation.

Joel wasn't a stranger to jealousy. I mean, how could he. You were beautiful, inside and out, incredibly smart - he knew he was the luckiest man alive to be able to call you his. He never missed the glances you'd get from each man passing you on the street or the ogling eyes from one of Tommy's friends. Even back when the two of you met, he had wondered what a young and pretty girl was doing sitting there with him, only talking to him, glancing directly into his eyes when you could have had the attention of at least four other men at the table. He had considered himself the luckiest guy in the world back then and still did. But he also knew what you were worth. And he was very well aware that, partially, he couldn't give you that. Even though, the reassuring sound of your voice, sweet like honey words falling from your lips were still marked on him, letting him know just how much you adored him, every part of his body, face, and personality, he still couldn't get, who in his past life he must've saved to deserve an angel like you now by his side.

Joel tried to keep his cool as best as he could. Tried to look past your crossed legs as you looked up at the other man, slightly hunching over, covering your mouth as you laughed at something he said. He couldn't have been that funny...

Ben was a good-looking man. Young, fit, and definitely a feast for the eyes. Every man would get jealous watching him talk to their other half. Right?... What could be oh-so-interesting coming from some blonde-frat-boy-looking guy that you'd grin at him like that?

He reminded himself once again... You were his. But then... Ben was exactly that type of guy strangers would expect you to be with. Not some older dude like him. Tommy loved reminding him of that. He could recall every double take people had to do when glancing at the two of you. Every eye up-down he got from women - the judgement just screaming from the look on their faces. It never seemed to bother you though. If anything, it would only make you hold on tighter to his arm or give his cheek an extra kiss. Almost as if you were jealous at every look he'd get from another woman that was a second too long for your liking. He could almost laugh at that thought. You had absolutely no reason to be jealous. There would be nobody ever to compare to you. Joel, on the other hand, had every reason to envy other guys staring at you. Because while you were all of that, he was just Joel.

The voice of his daughter got him back into the present.

"Dad!" She pushed her water bottle into his chest, catching him off guard. "Why don't you say hi to Coach Ben?"

"I already said hi to him when I came here, babygirl," he explained monotone, tucking the bottle back into the backpack before storing it under the bench again. Sarah didn't need to know the bad feeling he had gotten from the blonde man right from the start. Something was just... not right. The moment Tommy mentioned liking him and thinking about inviting him for drinks after he had picked up his niece from training one day, Joel knew he wasn't to trust. If Tommy liked someone, he immediately knew they'd be bad news. God, if Tommy wasn't his brother, he wouldn't even trust him.

"Hi, Y/N!" The youngest Miller suddenly jolted up and ran over to where you were now coming closer to the both of them.

You were quick to kneel down, opening your arms wide to welcome the little girl as she wrapped her small arms around your neck, pulling you in tightly, so your cheeks were squished together - something she had been doing to you for quite a while now.

You greeted her just as ecstatically, letting go so the two of you could continue your journey back to her father together while you kept asking her about the match.

"You're not tired yet, sweetie?" You wondered, settling back down next to Joel.

Sarah shook her head with a giggle, "No, that's why we practice, Y/N." She reminded you, making you chuckle.

"Right, right." You smiled before wanting to hand Joel one of the water bottles, but he pushed it back.

"I don't need it."

You rolled your eyes, "Just take it, I know you'll want it later." With a huff he accepted. You decided to ignore the slight sudden change in demeanour, brushing it off as your mind playing tricks on you.

Before the three of you could get into a full conversation again, the sound of the whistle hit your ear, letting you know the break was over. Sarah jumped up, kissing both you and her father on the cheek before running back onto the field, into the group of girls that were surrounding the coach again.

Joel knew better than to start a fight right now. He didn't want to know about what had gotten you so giddily while talking to Ben only a few feet away from him. But he couldn't fully push down the anger that had started to rumble up his body, making him turn quiet.

If only you didn't have to bring it up.

"You know," you started after having taken a sip from your water bottle. "Ben kinda reminds me of Tommy. Are you sure you guys aren't related?" Even though he knew it was supposed to be a joke, the scoff just tumbled from his lips as he sighed,

"God, fuck, I hope not."

You chuckled, not realising how much truth was in his comment. "Yeah, you already got your hands full with one troubled Miller." Placing a hand on his back, only then noticing the slight tension his body held. "He said Sarah's been doing really well, and she might even be able to go up a league next year. That would be cool, huh?" You glanced over at him, but Joel kept his eye on the field, watching his daughter race from one end to the other, the ball right by her feet.

"Mm," he grunted. "What else did he say that got you to giggle like a schoolgirl?"

You scoffed with a chuckle, "What? I didn't giggle like a schoolgirl." Noticing he wasn't grinning like you expected him to, meaning he wasn't teasing you. You scrunched your eyebrows. "What's gotten you so grumpy, old man?"

Every other day, this would've gotten you a snort from him return before he'd start tickling the soul out of you or would attack your neck in kisses, continuously teasing you for calling him that, knowing that the age gap between the two of you was something you'd like to play with every now and then, giving you a slight kick. Why, was still a mystery to Joel because he found himself anything but attractive with each passing year. Whatever you saw in him was now even more confusing to him than ever before.

His eyes fell down to where your hand had found its way to his thigh, covering it with his warm palm, petting it once before he took it, only to drop it back into your lap, mumbling a quick,

"Nothin', don't worry 'bout it." Before his attention was back on the game ahead of you.

Alright... you thought, weird, but... alright. You realised, there was definitely something going on in that head of his, but also knew that the Saturday match of his daughter was not the place to discuss it. You'd wait until you were back home.

-

The two of you spent the rest of the game in silence, proudly shouting and clapping for Sarah when she missed the goal by just an inch, hyping her up, hoping to motivate her to keep going. The car ride was filled with the youngest Miller's rambling about the match and the team they played against as well as the homework she'd need help with once they got home.

Before you left the field, Joel definitely didn't miss the smug nod Ben sent you before he disappeared as well, making him roll his eyes as you just waved, telling Sarah to do the same as he pushed you forward with a gentle hand on your lower back, making sure that it was low enough to send a quick non-verbal message to the young Coach.

At home, Joel decided to get started with the dishes while you helped Sarah with her Math homework, knowing you'd be much more of a help, thanks to your education and line of work than he'd ever be. Time passed thankfully quite quickly, and after making sure the little one got a good dinner, you sent her up to shower off the dirt and sweat from the hot day.

All while the older Miller was in the kitchen, scrubbing every single dish in fury, knowing how ridiculous others would find him if they could take a look inside his brain. He was so done with it. 

The disgustingly smug face of that coach kept showing up in front of his eyes, reminding him of just how pathetic he felt. He wasn't even mad at you. Or was he? God, not even he himself knew, what was making him react like this. Just the mere thought of any other man by your side made his blood boil. It had happened in the past. His primal instincts would just take over - he wasn't necessarily proud of it, but it was just the person he was.

Joel just couldn't get it out of his head. It wasn't the first time you had talked to a younger good-looking man, and it most definitely wouldn't be the last. He wasn't 12 anymore, he knew people, no matter the gender, would want to get along with each other. You even had to deal with people around your age every single day at work. Suddenly, that thought got him even more unweary. He tried to shake it off quickly.

Each day you'd come home to him, exhausted and complaining about some of your students. Never about the professor you worked for. It was always the students, specifically male students. Guys your age. The way you'd whine about their lack of motivation and focus would make you fall onto the couch, right into Joel's comforting embrace as he tried to calm you down, talking down on those exact guys, reminding you of the fact that college stuff was the last thing on a guys' mind during that age. It always made you groan. Each time. It would make him proud, now to think of it. Proud that rather than expressing your admiration for someone your age, you'd complain about their childishness, reminding him how grateful you were to have found him - a man, not a guy. But you talking to Ben seemed like anything but burdensome to you. It looked too natural for Joel's liking. But he knew to trust you, having had multiple conversations with you about the future. But even then...

He caught himself drifting off, snapping back into the presence quickly. Joel was already starting to dart way too low, reaching a level of dark thoughts he'd much rather not have. The two of you were a melodic couple. A couple that spoke to each other freely, he reminded himself. You always assured each other that nothing should be left unsaid and getting everything out is better than keeping everything in, no matter how embarrassing or pathetic it might be because there are no such things in a relationship. He remembered a conversation you had once dropped during a cuddle session on the couch. For some reason, it stuck with him:

-

"You know, Barbs broke up with her boyfriend." You suddenly threw in the room.

Joel raised an eyebrow, quickly having to remind himself that Barbs was one of your girlfriends that you had met up with for a Brunch date with the rest of your friend group.

"Why?" You knew he could probably care less about it, but he still wondered. If only you knew how much he actually just enjoyed listening to you talk.

You sat up from your half-lying position where your head had rested on his shoulder. Waiting until he had turned his head from the TV, he found your serious glance on him.

"Because she hasn't come even once during sex in the four months they've been together."

Joel took a deep breath, his eyebrows scrunched together. "Shit... poor guy."

"Poor guy?!" You exclaimed, hitting his chest, and making him flinch slightly. "Poor her! She's always had to finish herself off in the bathroom."

"Honey," he sighed, "I don't think you should tell me all that much about your friends." Joel would never complain about you sharing your life with him, but some information about your girlfriends should possibly stay between girls.

"No, you should know about this," you complained back, making him look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh? You tryna tell me something here, darlin'?"

His question made you giggle as you shoved him slightly, giving him the opportunity to hold onto your arm to pull you back into him.

"Please," you rolled your eyes, "You'd know if I was faking it."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled into your hair as he placed multiple kisses all along your hairline. He laid your head onto his lap, your gaze up at him as he looked down at you, the palm of his running up down the side of your torso.

"But like... I asked her why she didn't just, you know, talk to him about it. They were so perfect for each other in every other way, and I'm pretty sure that could've gotten fixed too. I mean, there's hardly anything that can't get fixed, and I know I wasn't present for like every second of their relationship, but I don't know. Anyways-" Joel chuckled at your rambling. "I asked her, and all of my friends turned to me and looked at me like I... just told them, I don't know- the only reason I have five toes on my left foot was because I ate the sixth one when I was a kid."

"Darlin'," Joel laughed at your comment. Your way with words would never bore him.

"What?" You chuckled back at him. "I'm serious. They looked at me so weirdly." He let you continue, his hand now comfortable on your stomach as your fingers found his to play with. "But they all understood her. They said that instead of talking to their partners about that, they'd much rather just end it."

The oldest Miller shrugged, "Yeah, but I mean if it's uncomfortable for them."

"But it shouldn't be," you argued. "Right?" You waited for him to lower his gaze. "I thought in a relationship you shouldn't feel awkward to talk about anything. I wouldn't want you to hold back on talking to me about something just because you think it's ridiculous or whatever."

"You'd want me to tell you that I haven't come in the time we've been together?" You nodded along to his question. "You don't think that would make you feel weird?" You shook your head.

"I mean," a quick thought shut you up for a second before continuing. "The thing is, I'd question why you wouldn't have talked to me about it earlier, but... I'd still want to solve that problem together, you know?" You waited for a nod coming from him, but he only tilted his head slightly. "I don't think there should be anything you'd keep from your partner. If you're in a relationship, you're already sharing so much with each other, like, you're literally giving over your body to trust another person with it, but then you don't want to talk about stuff like that? I don't know, seems weird to me."

His knuckles came up to brush over your cheek. "You get shy when I talk about what I want to do with you as soon as I get my hands on you too though." 

You couldn't help but to grin. "Because you tease!" Getting a hold of his hand, you tried to push it away from you with a giggle. "That's different," you argued. "But if you have something that's bothering you or something and you think it's ridiculous or whatever, and that's the reason why you don't want to talk to me about it... I don't like that," you shrugged, making your point.

Joel nodded, a slight smirk still on his lips. "Alright, I promise, I'll let you know once you stop making me come, okay?" 

You jumped up with a laugh, slapping him once again. "Can you be serious for once?! You idiot!" Giggling as he tried to dodge your hits only to pull you in closer again, not wanting to be apart from your body for even a second. You groaned jokingly, "Ugh, I hate you sometimes."

"I know," he looked at your lovingly, throwing you back onto the couch, hovering above you as he pinned down your arms, "I love you too." Leaning down to kiss you.

-

With a huff, he dropped the now wet washcloth onto the counter, ready to make his way upstairs, knowing you were most likely already getting ready for bed as well.

Even though your conversation back then was filled with laughter and banter, he understood the seriousness of it. You wanted this relationship to work, just as much as he did. And the only way to make that happen was through talking. As much as Joel hated it, hated using his words, never knowing what the right thing to say would be, he knew he had to jump over his ego this time. With grunts, he moved up the stairs, hearing the shower in the master bathroom being turned off right when he entered your shared bedroom. He pulled up his shirt, throwing it into the basket in the corner, a purchase you had made once you moved in.

You opened the bathroom door, letting the steam escape as you turned to the mirror, wiping it down before you got ready for your skincare routine. Joel knew, if he shied away from the conversation any longer, he'd never get to it. So, it was now or never.

Taking step after step until he reached the door frame to lean on, he could feel his heart almost up to his neck, swallowing hard. You saw his figure coming closer from the corner of your eye as you applied your serum, turning your head once he came to a stop.

"You okay?" You wondered once again, hoping to maybe get an answer in return this time around.

He didn't even dare to look into your eyes, finding the floor much more interesting. Joel took a deep breath. He crossed his arms and lifted his head to look straight ahead into the wall, past you.

"You ever think about dating someone younger?" He rushed over his words, hoping to get this over as quickly as possible. You stopped mid-movement at the sudden question being thrown into the room. With confusion written all over your face, you turned to the right, his body still resting against the doorframe.

"What?" Was all you could let out. You understood the question acoustically, yet hoped to have misheard it still.

With a sigh, he started again, "Do- ugh, you know what? Forget it." He blurred it out just as quickly, his back facing you right away as he moved back into the bedroom, walking towards the drawer to get boxers for the night.

"Joel," you were quick to rush after him, "What did you just ask me?"

"Nothing, forget about it," he shrugged it off, looking around the drawer. Before he could even put his hand inside it, you closed it, positioning yourself between the piece of furniture and him.

"Why did you just ask me that?" Your concerned voice tugged at his heart. You were too good for him. 

You understood that Joel could possibly be insecure, just as much as anyone else was allowed to be, just like you were too sometimes. But you never expected such a question to come from him.

Joel placed both of his hands on top of your head to push it down slightly, placing a loving kiss on top of your hair.

"Nothin'. It doesn't matter, it's stupid." With a sigh, he walked over to the bed, sitting down on his side, his back once again turned towards you.

"Joel," you were definitely just going to let this slide, "You know exactly what I think of that 'it's stupid' shit."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his hands brushed over his face, a soft groan tumbling from his lips. "Yeah," he groaned, "I know, trust me. You have no idea how long I've been debating over asking you that shit."

That's when the switch in your head flicked. "Is that why you've been so quiet?" He only nodded.

With a sad sigh, you rounded the corner, coming to a halt in front of his hunched-over figure.

"What's got you thinking about something like that all of a sudden?" With another step forward, you were right in between his legs as he almost automatically let his hands drop to let you come closer, your fingers brushing through his hair. 

"It's a stupid question-"

You immediately shushed him by placing your hand over his mouth. "There are no stupid questions. You know that."

A slight grin crept up on his face as you lowered your hand again. "You really are a teacher, huh?" You tilted your head with a smirk you tried to hold back, not wanting to let go of the seriousness of the conversation.

"Come on," you petted his cheek, "Tell me." His hands found their way to your hips, riding up underneath his shirt you had decided to put on for the evening, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

With another deep breath in, Joel glanced to the side, trying to think about the right words, but his head was too occupied to think about that right now. "That stupid Ben fucker, I swear to God..." he cursed as he mumbled, making you almost unable to hear him clearly. But you still caught it, thanks to the silence in the room.

"Ben? Ben Miller? Sarah's coach?" You pushed his face to make him look up at you. "What did he say to you?"

He shook his head, taking your hands off his cheeks to hold onto them, kissing your knuckles. "No, no he didn't say anything."

"Then wh-"

"I saw you two talking together. Well, Sarah saw you first, but then I looked over too," he started explaining, still avoiding your eyes while you kept your gaze on him. "And, I don't know, something in me just snapped, I guess... watching him talk to you... just... yeah..."

"You don't like him?" You carefully asked, unsure if he was finished with his statement.

Joel shook his head, "Not really."

You nodded along, "Good. That makes two of us." His head snapped up at your comments.

"What?" You just nodded again.

"He's pathetic, it's... like, I know we shouldn't judge people, but God..."

Joel's eyebrows scrunched in confusion, "Then why were you laughing so much with him?"

"Because I wanted him to like me."

"Why's that so important to you?"

"Because of Sarah!" You explained, "She really likes him, and I want to leave a good impression on him because I don't want him to maybe treat her differently or whatever just because I wasn't nice to him. I- what, did you think I was flirting with him?"

The oldest Miller stayed quiet. Sometimes no answer is also an answer. And this time it was answer enough for you.

"Joel!" You whined out.

"What?" He looked up at you as you took a step back. "Look at you. You tryna tell me he wouldn't be tryin' something on a beautiful woman like you. You deserve someone like him!"

"Someone like him?"

"Someone young. And good-looking. And Jesus, I don't even wanna know what else," he threw his right hand up in frustration.

"Joel..."

"Look," he stopped you. "I understand it, okay? I don't believe you'd do something like that," he assured you before pointing to his head, "But the guys up here don't get it."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, slightly concerned, "What?"

He shook his head with a groan, "I don't know..." Joel just couldn't find the right words. He would never accuse you of cheating or leaving him just like that, he got that. But... there was just something...

For a second, the two of you decided to stay silent. But you couldn't bear watching your boyfriend, your life partner, on the bed, sitting in frustration.

"Joel," you started again, taking that one step closer to be in between his legs again, making him look up. "Why would I want a dude in his early twenties that works at a gym just so he can use their stuff for free and brags about having a lonely huge ass apartment, and the only reason he's the coach of a girl's soccer team is because his dad forces him to, otherwise he'd stop paying his rent."

Joel glanced at you bedazzled. Gazing up at you as you returned to raking your fingers through his hair while his hands held onto your outer thighs.

"What?"

You nodded, your lips pressed into a tight line. "That's Ben Miller."

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you before you decided to go one step further.

"Why would I want someone like that when I have a trustful man that is mature, incredibly handsome, one of the funniest people I've ever met, who makes me feel like I might truly be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen." You lowered yourself, placing a knee on each side of him to take a seat in his lap, your fingers never leaving his dark curls. "Who is the most amazing father to a wonderful little girl, has a good job, a house, a well-planned future, who knows how to treat women with respect, who I know would never hurt me in any way," you had started to lock eye with him, "who loves me for me and who makes me the happiest I've ever been." Joel's fingers were digging into the flesh of your ass, making you lean forward just a slight bit more. "Why would I ever want to have someone else?" You let your right pointer finger slowly run over the side of his face. "I couldn't care less about Ben or any other guy like that. They're all the same," you rolled your eyes, making him chuckle. "I love you. And only you. And they can look at me all they want, I only care about one man." You finished your speech before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips that have already been screaming for you. The plan for it to only be a quick peck was quickly thrown out the window when Joel's grip on you tightened, pulling you in as close as he possibly could.

You separated with heavy breaths from both of you.

Joel let go of your ass, his right hand sliding up your back, just a bit. "So," he smirked, "You only wanted me for my house?" The sudden question made you giggle out loud, holding onto his shoulders as you stared into his dark brown eyes.

"Exactly," you nodded.

The oldest Miller let himself enjoy the moment just a bit more as he took in your appearance. No make-up, hair ready for bed, in one of his t-shirts with underwear covering you. Perfect. And all his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't doubt you, I really didn't. Just...," A heavy sigh fell from his lips. "There are so many young men that you could-"

"Boys," you interrupted him.

"Boys?" He chuckled.

"If they're around my age, they don't deserve the title of a man yet. And I don't need that," you made clear, following him with a smile as well.

Joel dared to look down for a second. "I just..." glancing up, to find your eyes never leaving him, your kind eyes still brightly shining right at him. "I thought about what Tommy used to say about you and his friends fitting together way better than us two-"

"And Tommy better shut his damn mouth if he knows what's good for him," your comment got a chuckle from him in return.

"And your dad wasn't all too happy about us either."

You nodded. "And my dad also cheated on my mom. Twice. You really think I'm gonna take dating advice from him?" He knew your relationship with him was... wobbly.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, his hands now rubbing up and down your body as you snaked your arms around his neck, making sure you had him close to your body.

"I only want you, Joel," you whispered, your eyes passionately interlocked with his as you leaned in for another peck. Your action made him smile, tightening his arms around you too. "And your house," you giggled against his lips. Joel couldn't hold back the chuckle as he let himself fall back into the mattress, pulling you along with him.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen Talks Becoming Prince Andrew for ‘A Very Royal Scandal’: “It’s a Hall of Mirrors With Him”

Michael Sheen confesses it was daunting becoming Prince Andrew in Amazon Prime Video‘s A Very Royal Scandal, a series following the infamous BBC interview with the Duke about his relationship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

Sheen (Good Omens, Twilight, Masters of Sex) stars alongside Ruth Wilson (The Affair, Luther), playing British journalist Emily Maitlis, after she and Andrew came together for one hour on a fateful night in 2019 to produce what is now mostly considered a huge stain on the monarchy’s already-blotted reputation. The Duke of York was probed on accusations he had sex with Virginia Giuffre (then Roberts) at Epstein’s house when she was just 17 in the early 2000s.

The Welsh actor tells The Hollywood Reporter that portraying any real-life person is “daunting” in itself, but a royal family member even more so when the research involves a lot of guesswork and relying on “the person who used to be a security guard.”

“One of the big challenges with with playing Prince Andrew compared to a lot of the people I’ve played,” he begins, “is it’s a hall of mirrors with Prince Andrew. The royal family is so controlled with what gets out. So you’ve got, on the one hand, very stage-managed photographs and interviews and personal appearances, and then you’ve got, gossip and rumor and, ‘The person who used to be security guard said…’ And you don’t know what people’s agendas are.”

Sheen explains that it gets particularly tricky portraying a royal because there’s “a mystery at the heart” of who Andrew is – and, crucially, “what he did or didn’t do.”

“I mean, we can have strong feelings, instincts, opinions about what that might be, but in terms of the nitty gritty, the nuts and bolts of what he did, we don’t know,” he says. “So given that I don’t know, I did still have to make certain choices myself, just so I could play something specific in the scenes. Now, I will never tell anyone what those choices are because they have no bearing on the reality of it one way or the other, really, and it could only really serve to maybe influence the way people watch what I’m doing, and I’d rather that it retain its sort of ambiguity.”

But the star steered clear of impersonating the Duke for as long as possible as he found it makes a better experience for viewers. “Ultimately, you want the audience to engage with what’s going on for the character, not to be too bothered about what’s on the surface and all those things like mannerisms, vocal and physical things,” he says.

“For someone who the audience feels they know so well, they’re coming at it with preconceived ideas and preconceptions about what they look like, what they sound like, what they come across as,” Sheen explains to THR. “So, that’s daunting, because you know you’re going to be judged by that.”

Sheen recalls watching the interview himself, all the way back in 2019 – before the Duke settled out of court with Giuffre for an undisclosed fee. “It is now harder for me to remember what I thought or felt at the time because, because I’ve obviously watched it literally hundreds and hundreds of times now,” he says. “I do remember not having a hot take on it, I just felt the way everyone felt about it: ‘What was that? How on earth did that ever happen?'”

Now 55, nine years Andrew’s junior, Sheen has grown up following the Duke’s generation of royal family members. “Back when I was growing up in the ’80s, he was tabloid fodder all the time,” the actor says. “‘Randy Andy’ and, you know, his relationships. And he was this ruggedly handsome war hero, a prince who was the most eligible bachelor on the scene. [But that] has diminished, he’s one of the least known in that respect, and yet, at the same time, one of the most seemingly familiar because he had that reputation.”

He enjoyed grappling with a man who has lost so much over the years, one who was once incredibly “attractive” and often regarded as Queen Elizabeth II’s favorite child. “So popular, thousands of women shouting and screaming when he comes off the dock, coming back from the Falklands War with a rose in his mouth,” Sheen continues. “To see a man age, put on weight and start losing all that whilst getting further and further away from the center of power, to have money problems when you’re seen as having everything, and to feel like you don’t get treated the way you should get treated for a man of immense privilege, that contradiction is golden for an actor and to have.”

“I mean, he clearly is a character and that was part of the treasure hunt for me,” he adds.

[foodfightnovelization]

Foodfight! The (OFFICIAL) Video Game

Yes, you read the title right! No it's not the fangame I made a couple months ago, this is the real deal, the whole enchilada, the ACTUAL Foodfight! tie-in game! Shortly after ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight was released, its creator Ziggy, myself, and everyone else in the Foodfight! community thought we'd found everything there was left to find. After all, we'd uncovered the workprint, the novelization, almost all the original footage, Ziggy had interviewed countless people who worked on the movie, some character models had even been found...so that was it, right? But as I hinted at in my last few posts, the Foodfight! story wasn't quite over yet.

Reese, a friend of Ziggy's, had reached out to one of the developers involved in the Foodfight! tie-in game that was set to be released alongside the movie, and shortly after ROTTEN came out, Ziggy also managed to get in touch with them. One thing led to another and we were sent a HUGE 10GB folder of art, documents, models, and footage related to the game. What you see above is a concept submission trailer created to show off the game and what it'd look like, similar to the pitch reel created for the movie itself. Needless to say, this blew our minds! If you've read my previous post on the subject, you'll know that up until now the only thing anyone had EVER seen of this game was a few seconds of grainy footage from E3 2006. To go from that to a whole stockpile of material from its development was INCREDIBLE! To learn more about how this found its way into our hands, I'll direct you to a blog post from Ziggy himself, explaining a little more about the game's developers (and relaying a truly hilarious story about Larry Kasanoff)

However, I want to talk more about the INCREDIBLE plethora of material included in the folder that was shared with us. Ziggy uploaded everything he was sent to archive.org, so I'll link it below if you'd like to peruse the files yourself, but keep reading if you want to know more about what's included!

Just to start off with, the footage from the above concept trailer and the assorted screenshots- doesn't it just look awesome? It's way more visually appealing than the finished movie ended up looking, for one thing, and it's seemingly inspired more by the early pre-motion capture footage than anything that came later on. It's also just mindblowing to finally see all this, to suddenly go from knowing basically nothing about the game to knowing so much about it! And best of all...doesn't this just look EXACTLY like a movie tie-in game from the mid 2000s? I mean, that shouldn't be too surprising, that's exactly what it is, but tie-in games of that era had a very specific look and feel and this just takes me right back to that. Remember the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory game where you're racing around on a trashcan lid, the Spider-Man game where you're running around Oscorp avoiding security robots, or the Incredibles game where you're rushing through a burning building fighting guys with flamethrowers? Doesn't this just look EXACTLY like one of those?

And you might be thinking "it's too bad we only have a few minutes of footage and some screenshots, I wish we could know even more about what the game would've been like". Well, your wish just came true! Buried deep in the files is a copy of the game's design documents, telling us EXACTLY how each level would've played out! (If you're struggling to find it, it's in AUDIO> Final Drop> FF> Docs) So not only do we get to see a ton of what the game would've looked like, we also get to see how the whole thing would've come together, with 26 action-packed levels consisting of a variety of different gameplay types. Looking at several other files, it seems like the number of levels may have been cut down to 15 later in development, but hey, it's fairly common for design docs to be more complex than the finished game. Regardless, reading about everything they had planned...this really is the ultimate stereotypical tie-in game. I mean, just look at some of these level descriptions! Isn't this every movie-based game you've ever played, all rolled into one? You can bet your boxtop if it had made it all the way through development, it'd easily have the honor of being one of the few tie-in games BETTER than the movie it was based off, although considering how the finished film turned out maybe that's not saying much.

Based on what the developers said in the article linked above, it's unclear exactly how much of the game was finished before it was cancelled, and unfortunately it's incredibly unlikely they'll ever be able to compile a build together to send our way. However, there's just SO much included in this folder it's hard to complain. Not only do we get basically a complete picture of how the game would've come together from all the documents, screenshots, audio, cutscenes and footage included, there are all kinds of additional files that are both interesting and incredibly useful.

Not only are there models and environments from the game itself (unfortunately the only character model included seems to be Dex), there are also models of the ENTIRE CAST taken directly from the earlier version of the movie! Every main character is here, from Dex to Sunshine to Mr Leonard, as well as a bunch of other models such as Dan's plane and cockpit. This is HUGE, and I can't wait to see what talented artists will do with all these resources. At the time I'm writing this, someone already ported several of the models into SFM (Source Filmmaker) and another made several animations in Blender!

I'm sure even more will happen soon, but right now this is pretty incredible. Who thought this would EVER happen? That one day we'd have models of every main character, a complete workprint of the movie from 2005, a tie-in novelization, footage of the long-sought after videogame, and so, so much more. In the span of less than a year, Foodfight! went from some of the most obscure lost media of all time to some of the most well-documented lost media of all time. We have so much there's no way I'd ever even be able to discuss it all, that's how far we've come in the past few months.

Seriously, I've barely even scratched the surface of what's in this folder. There are 3D cutscenes from the game, 2D cutscenes, concept art for the planned toy line, footage of prototypes of those toys in action, MORE gameplay footage, previously unseen storyboards not included in the workprint, raw audio of Charlie Sheen's voice sessions from the movie, tons of songs from the game, the entire score from the movie, and that's STILL not everything! I mean, holy chips! I STRONGLY encourage you to download the folder for yourself and take a look...maybe you'll even find something I haven't yet?

I really think that with this folder now out in the public, this is as much closure on Foodfight! as we'll ever get. I know I always say that and then there's some amazing discovery a few months later, but this is just such a huge smorgasbord of material that I don't even think we can count Foodfight! as lost media anymore...okay, we haven't found absolutely everything so it's partially found media at best, but could you really ask for more than all this? We have countless models from the movie, design docs and footage from the planned tie-in game, early drafts of the script, we know EXACTLY what the movie and game were going to be like before everything collapsed... now, if you're so inclined you can take all that and make something out of all of it, but me? I'm pretty satisfied just having the knowledge. Knowing what could've been before it all fell apart, getting to see so much I never thought I'd get a chance to see... right now, I'd say my Foodfight! cravings have been satiated. Unless another monumental discovery is unearthed anytime soon (at this point I wouldn't be surprised), I think there's really not much more to say. If nothing comes up in a month or two, I'll make a post showing off my personal collection of Foodfight! merchandise, an epilogue to the past year I've spent obsessing over this movie. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy the absolute treasure trove of Foodfight! material that's been discovered! Dig through it all! Make something out of it! There's so much in these files, you could create your OWN Foodfight!, with blackjack and hookers!

[kimbap-r0ll]

Whoever you choose for twist wonderland with a so/reader that's nerdy and shy, loves wearing baggy, comfy clothes, and always wears there hair messy or in a braid(if your hair is short than a small ponytail). Then one day, reader decides to wear form-fitting dress(or if it's a guy or don't wear dresses than a suit) and they comb their hair, which makes them look beatiful and like a super-model. However, now all the students are drooling over them. How'd they react?

Hi, thank you for the ask! Idk why but I got instantly reminded of those early 2000s teen movies where the main girl character goes through a mall haul and like does a 180 in aesthetics. However, this was pretty fun to write, I made y/n gender neutral in this one ^^

Sebek, Ruggie, Idia, Ace with an s/o who decides to try out a different (more tight-fitting) style

Sebek

He liked that you weren't afraid to try different fashion styles, even if it mainly consisted of baggy clothing or something that didn't make you stand out. To him, whatever you wore that day was cute (he would never say this to you though)

One day, however, he was busy reading a book when suddenly his entire class just went "WWWOAAAAHHH" and like crowded around the door. Sighing, he stood up and asked what was going on, only to see you in probably the world's most beautiful attire...that also happened to fit you quite well

Sebek turns red in the face, doesn't know where to look since he's so flustered, but yells at everyone to give you some space so you can breathe. "They're just trying to get to their seat, stop bothering y/n!" He then takes you by the hand and races down to the front of the classroom where he's sitting

You notice he doesn't say much but he is stuttering a lot that day. You explained that you had to do a fashion shoot for Vil (he thought you would be perfect) and got permission to wear this to class so you could run to the shoot right after. Sebek gives a nod but still doesn't look at you

After class, he finally has the courage to tell you that you look beautiful, handsome, honestly just every adjective ever to describe how cool you looked. He might ask you to wear that again, though he says this while taking flustered glances at you. Does he think you look great? Of course! Is he scared to voice this? Yes! Will Lilia tease him about this for the next few days? Hell yeah

Ruggie

He joked about you wearing something more form-fitting, saying it would make you look really cute. Did he expect you do wear it to the Fairy Fashion Show? No

He was helping out Leona and Jamil when suddenly out of nowhere he hears Crewel go "See? Be more like y/n" and when the hyena whips around his head he sees you in your full glory. Omg he almost dropped the expensive accessories in his hands because of how stunning you were.

All the students that were helping out were also shocked, but then students started to crowd around you and just exclaim at how awesome you looked. Ruggie, perhaps because he's a bit overprotective sometimes, dashes over and pushes through the crowd of fangirling students

"'Scuse me, my y/n will be helping out with the fairy runway right now, c'mon let's go!" he takes your hand and pulls you out of the crowd. He might use his unique magic to make things a bit easier too. Soon after, you two are able to catch a breath and actually get back on track. He seems pretty chill about your outfit change, saying that you looked like a totally different person

However, under all of the laughing and snickering he does, he was probably fangirling or at least feeling really flustered. He thinks you look great, perhaps too good for someone like him. By the end of the mission, he tells you in a very gentle way that you were beautiful and that perhaps you two should do a date night somewhere classy so you can wear that again. He'll be dreaming about you in that outfit for the next few days

Idia

You two became best buddies and soon partners when you two discovered your love for gaming and anime. He joked about doing a couple cosplay together, saying it would be cute. However, he had no confidence in this ever happening, hell he can't even cosplay himself (or so he thinks). You decided to challenge this though

Idia showed up in some regular clothing, something that the character in his Isekai anime wore. He wasn't sure if you were actually going to show up as the mythical character or so, but then he heard a crowd hollering and clapping around someone. They were chanting the name of the character that you were cosplaying, which meant one thing: it was you.

"Y-y/n?" he pushes around in the crowd, trying to not freak out at how close everyone is. However, when he sees you, his hair almost completely blazes the building. You look exactly like the character, even the clothing was the complete opposite of your aesthetic but you nailed it! He just stood there, wide eyed and completely awed

You have to snap him out of it and take him back to a more open area because he's so surprised. He has a hard time talking to you, fumbling over words and expressing how cool you look in the cosplay. He smiles awkwardly, asking if you wanted to go see the merch booths in another hall. Taking his hand, you two walk around the convention

Idia is blushing hard during the entire convention. If you tease him about it he'll be super embarrassed. He's really proud and grateful to have a partner like you who can not only look amazing but also be the kindest person he's ever met. At the end, he'll shyly tell you he would love to see you in a cosplay again soon

Ace

He was fully joking when he said you would look cooler in flashier clothes. Putting a bet that you would never change your clothes, he said he would buy you dinner at a nice restaurant if you did manage to wear something flashy.

Ace didn't expect the school to be turned upside down when you showed up on a school event in what Cater described was "a slay outfit." He ran over and saw a crowd of first years pointing and whispering excitedly around the corner. Ace thought there was no way it would be you, he knew you weren't going to want to step out of your comfort zone

He was wrong. He was soooo wrong. His jaw dropped when you came into his view; your hair was shining, your clothes were slightly fitting but looked beautiful on you, and your accessories complimented the whole outfit. You could've challenged Vil with your beauty

"O-Oh hey! Y/n! Damn you look great!" he said, trying to hide that he was blushing and being overjoyed at seeing you in the coolest look ever. He asks if you were also attending the event as a fashion show contestant, and he was right. Not only that, you ended up fully winning the competition after the entire school of boys went crazy over your looks haha

Ace ends up agreeing to the deal, but he still teases you along the way. "You should wear like this more often, it's super cute" he'll whisper while you two are walking downtown, pulling you closer. He wants you to be flustered because he was totally red in the face when he first saw you. He'll be fanboying over that one look for a long time haha

[bubybubsters]

A Distressing Solstice

a/n: For my lovely @icey--stars I hope you have a wonderful holiday and thank you to the amazing people at @acotargiftexchange for making this a thing!

w/c: 2000+

warnings: 🐱

masterlist

*****

Eris’s POV

Eris glanced in the full-body mirror one last time before taking a deep breath and praying to the Cauldron that nothing would go wrong. He was in a dark red vest that had black patterns covering a black shirt paired with black dress pants. It was the Winter Solstice and Azriel had invited him over to meet his family on good terms and to come clean about their not-so-secret secret relationship. Rhysand and Feyre had found out when catching the two lovers making out 30 minutes before a meeting. Surprisingly the High Lord and Lady had already suspected and was willing to hear them out. Lucien had also found out in a similar way, accidentally walking in on something he definitely never wanted to see again. Eris also knew Morrigan suspected because Azriel had dragged him halfway through Velaris to apologize and explain why he’d left her in the woods that day. If Mor knew, then all the females in the night court probably did as well. Really this was only for Cassian (because Amren always knows everything), the ‘poor oblivious Illyrian baby’ as Azriel liked to call him. Still, Eris’s nerves jangled nervously as he winnowed to the River House. Sparing a look at his watch, Eris realized he was fifteen minutes early. Oh well, couldn’t very well go back now… well he technically could…. Shaking the thought from his head he scanned his surroundings. Although he would deny it to the grave, the River House was as incredible as Az had told him. As he approached the house mansion, he glanced at the windows. Two silhouettes were too close to be casual. He smiled, happy for their love. Then, suddenly realizing one had giant wings, Eris froze, fearing what he was seeing. Creeping closer, he peered through the window focusing intently on the figure with wings. That same jet black hair. Oh no. It couldn’t be. Azriel would never. Eris’s face drained of all color as he saw his lover against the counter with Elain Archeron leaning forward to kiss him. Fire roared through his veins as his own heart broke at the sight and he thought of how devastated Lucien would be. Using every scrap of self control to not smash through the window and beat both Azriel and Elain up for their betrayal, Eris backed up. Indifferent mask falling into place as he watched their lips meet. He turned down the pathway and started the walk back to the unwarded areas. All while slamming up those steel walls in his heart and mind. Pushing his feelings into a teeny tiny box and once more becoming the High Lord. The High Lord that showed no mercy, no compassion, no joy, no love, nothing except cruelty. The High Lord he’d been before Azriel. When Eris reached the end of the wards, he looked back at the River House and without a single trace of emotion winnowed out.

***

Bright light greeted him along with the shocked face of his little brother. The day court. “Eris! I thought you were with Az?” Lucien’s slightly worried voice broke Eris’ facade of indifference. His body gave out and he dropped to his knees in the middle of Lucien’s cabin. “Eris?! What happened? What’d he do?” Eris chuckled. He loved his brother. In a weak voice he asked, “Why do you assume he did something?” “Because you’d never hurt him.” Lucien’s arms encircled him and Eris felt himself being lifted off the ground. “You love him. You would do anything for that shadowsinger. He doesn’t deserve it, but you’d still do it.” “I loved him.” The words were another stab into Eris’ heart as Lucien sat him down in an armchair. “No, you love him. You, of all people, can’t unlove in twenty minutes. I know you Eris. You’re blocking your feelings, making yourself feel nothing. It’s not healthy, you’ve got to at least have closure if you’re going to end it with Az.” Eris glared, hating that Lucien was right. His damned emissary training made him absurdly good with words. “So, I ask you again. What happened?” “Luci… Ela- Elain kissed him. Your mate kissed my mate.”

*****

Azriel’s POV

It was eleven, Eris was four hours late. He probably wasn’t even coming at this point. Azriel drained his wine, glancing towards the door once more before Feyre drew his attention. “Do you know where Elain is?” It was the fifth time the question had come up, all directed at him. “No.” He’d rejected Elain again after she’d forced herself on him. She’d pinned him between the kitchen counter and not willing to hurt her, he’d been helpless. But she’d kissed him and he knew he had to do something but his body froze. He’d shoved her off after a moment and harshly told her he didn’t want her. He’d never wanted her. She’d just been a placeholder while he tried to find someone who was right for him. And he’d found that someone. She’d run off crying. He glanced outside again and still no fiery red head. “Az?” Rhysand placed a present in front of him as he looked down and Azriel with a worried gaze. “You alright?” Azriel nodded at his brother before taking the present. Carefully unwrapping the squirrel and acorn wrapping paper, Az pulled out the present. It was a small box. When opened it was a heart locket the color of autumn leaves. Upon closer inspection Azriel noticed that the locket was broken in two. He opened one side; it had a picture of Eris staring at someone not shown with a heated, loving expression. Frowning, Azriel opened the other locket to fine a picture of him staring with the same expression at someone else. He smiled slightly, putting the lockets together to show a picture of the couple locked in a heated gaze. Looking up at Rhys, his eyes watered at the incredibly thoughtful present. “It’s lovely Rhys. I love it and I’m sure Eris would if he’d bothered to show up.” His voice turned bitter and he let a little bit of his pain show. Anger shown in his brothers eyes. “I can’t believe he stood us up. I thought he was good. Do you want to go find him?” “He is good. I’m not sure. Give it another hour, if he’s not here by then we’ll go see what happened.” Rhys nodded, smiling at his brother before moving back to Feyre’s side and tucking her into his side. Azriel’s heart clenched at the love his High Lord and Lady had. He wished for it, especially the mating bond. But it seemed the Mother had deemed him unworthy of even that. Barely minutes later, Rhysand was once again standing in front of him. “Screw it Az, let’s find that asshole.” His brother had that look on his face that said he wasn’t going to back down on this front. “Fine… just let him explain before murdering anyone.” Rhys’ grin was a slash of white, “I make no promises.” He grabbed Azriel by the shoulder and winnowed them out. The scent of fresh fallen leaves hit him and Az relaxed slightly. He opened the cabin door and stepped in, Rhys a step behind him. “Er?” No answer. “He’s not here Az. Hasn’t been for hours.” Azriel nodded, stepping back into his shadows and winnowing away. There was only one more place Eris could possibly be. Az felt a knock against his mental shields. “I wish to do this alone, Rhys.” “Then best of luck, brother.”

*****

Lucien’s POV

Lucien heard a light knock against his cabin door and sighed, already knowing who stood outside. He couldn’t believe Azriel had cheated on Eris with Elain. Of all people. He wanted to give up on Elain, to find someone who wanted him and cared enough to accept and use his damn gifts. But she was his mate and that string connecting them wasn’t so easy to block. Lucien disentangled himself from his sleeping brothers arms and silently crept toward the door. “He won’t want to see you.” Meeting Azriel’s hazel eyes he felt a surge of anger, especially at the very faint smell of jasmine and honey. The shadowsinger looked confused at Lucien’s words. “Why? What did I do?” Lucien’s brows pulled together slightly, was it possible that Eris had gotten it wrong? That the situation he’d seen wasn’t what it’d looked like? An unwanted flare of hope ran through his body. “You… where were you fifteen minutes before 7:00?” “Umm.” Realization dawned on Azriel’s face. “Kitchens. Oh. So, Eris was early and saw through the window when Elain kissed me and assumed that I was cheating on him?” Damn. He’d gotten it right away. “Yep. And now you can come in, explain you hopefully weren’t cheating on him and make it so I don’t have a brooding high lord in my getaway cabin?” “If you’d step out of the doorway.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you think he’ll hear me out?” Fear and sadness laced his tone. Lucien shrugged elegantly, “good luck!” He needed wine, maybe he’d stop by the River House and take a few of Rhysand’s good bottles and be back in time to kick his brother out before he had sex with the shadowsinger in his bedroom, again.

*****

Eris’ POV

A hand shook him out of his sleep and he groaned, batting the hand away. Said hand grabbed his hand and pinned it to the bed. Said hand wasn’t just calloused like Lucien’s but also had scars. Burn scars. Eris shot up, suddenly wide awake as he looked to his side and was met with a pair of hazel eyes. “Azriel.” He jumped off the bed as the memories of why he was at his brothers cabin came back. Azriel had cheated on him! With Elain. His brothers mate! “Eris, please. Let me explain.” A hint of desperation sparked in his eyes. “No! You kissed her! You-“ “Eris!” Azriel cut him off, rounding the bed to stand in front of him. “She kissed me! I-“ “You kissed her back! You know how much she means to Lucien and you still kissed her back!” “Lordling.” Azriel pushed him onto the bed and hovered above him, pinning his wrists to the mattress. “She kissed me and it took me by surprise so I froze. If you’d only stayed and watched another five fucking seconds you would have seen me push her away and tell her I don’t want her.” Eris’ emotions spiked, “Of course I didn’t stay to watch my mate kiss another! It’d tear me apart!” Azriel stilled above him. “Mate?” That’s when the bond snapped for him and Eris felt the mating bond go taunt. Rushes of desperation, surprise and love flooded his side of the bond. “Mate.” The confirmation alone made the bond glow with life. He leaned up, even as Azriel still pinned him to the bed, placing a gentle kiss on his mates lips. “I’m sorry I ever doubted your loyalty to me… I just assumed the worst and I shouldn’t have.” Azriel’s eyes softened and his body relaxed as he let got of Eris’s wrists and collapsed on top of him. “I love you, lordling.” Azriel’s hands cupped his face and he kissed him passionately, letting the bond between them come to life with shared love. “I’m the high lord. Not a lordling.” Eris grumbled into Azriel’s chest. “But I love you too, shadow boy. A waterfall of ice cold water hit the couple and they both yelped jumping up and out of bed. Eris glowered at his grinning brother as he magically dried himself and Azriel. “You’ll pay for that, Luci.” He grabbed Azriel’s hand and started to drag him out of the cabin. “At least I won’t have the scent of your sex in my cabin for weeks again!” Azriel glanced at Eris, “That long?” Eris grinned nodding, “Longer.” He winnowed them to his own getaway cabin. “Now mate, where were we?”

*****

A/n: Thank you for making it through that… hopefully without any cringing!

taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @stargirl1714

thank you @artists-ally for keeping me sane with promises of that one thing and suggesting a name for Az.

[leliosinking]

Okay folks. Hear me out. I know the popular vision on this site is for amc Lestat’s rockstar era to be like.. leather pants and mesh shirts ala Maneskin (and Stuart Townsend tbh) but I just don’t see it for this interpretation of the character.

(I can’t shake the vibe that Damiano is a liiittle too close to what we’ve already seen, I’ll explain shortly)

But also.. we’ve already gotten a canon taste of this Lestat’s stage presence in s01e07. Look at this guy. He’s a flamboyant, piano playing dandy.. like a flamingly gay theatre faguette. This man was crowned king of Mardi Gras and chose to dress up like a queen..

No. No I don’t see mesh shirts and leather pants in this man’s future (at least not with a 2022 sensibility). But I do see a potential vision. Ride this thought train with me for a sec.

So for this theory to work I should first quickly explain where I think we are in the timeline:

We know that the original interview occurred in the 1970s, and that Daniel doesn’t remember much of that era.. (perhaps he was much closer to the action than he remembers) but I (and several other long term fans) think that the events in Dubai 2022 are likely a fusion of Prince Lestat and Merrick. But more importantly, I think that the events of TVL and QotD have already happened, and mostly likely in close proximity to the original interview.. it’s a lot to explain but trust me it works.

Lestat’s rockstar era occurring in the ‘80s (or even late ‘70s) would of course be book accurate, but it also would allow the show to distance itself from what has already been done in the films. So much like moving the events of IwtV from the 1780s to the 1910s for aesthetic variation, we would be moving the modern events of TVL and QotD from the early 2000s of the film back to their original placement in the timeline. And boy oh boy are the fashion options exciting.. but I have something in mind a little left of field.

So like.. I’m imagining a gothic Liberace, clad in 18th century waistcoats and dramatic capes. Think sequins and candelabras. It’s all very late ‘70s early ‘80s. I know the books are more of a guideline than a bible for this series but the TVC vampires are drawn to the fashion of their era. I can 100% see interpreting his wolf killer coat into an extravagant sequined cape. Imagine “Come to Me” rearranged as a Neil Diamond piano rock ballad.. like are you following my train of thought? Like this Lestat is so so SO gay. And the visual references amc has been pulling from understand that.

(of course this is all very silly looking, but again, refer to Lestat at the Mardi Gras parade.. that’s him!)

Or think Elton John but like.. by way of Ozzy Osborne. Dramatic wigs and piano ballads, but also stage blood and prosthetics.

This Lestat understands high camp and theatricality, and I see him deliberately toeing the line between these two seemingly conflicting aesthetics because that’s who he is. Frankly it’s who he has always been as a character. Lestat “eating” the king cake baby? It’s just Ozzy biting the head off a bat. And I think more of that is what we’re in for.

(I can’t not mention the absolutely perfect adaptation by innovation comics. This look is a great jumping off point for what we might see.. but I think the costume department will take it many many steps further)

At their root the Vampire Chronicles are period drama, and Rolin and co. are already leaning into that (like there are what? Three active timelines in season one? I would expect even more as the series progresses tbh) and I think a season set largely in the 1980s is going to be more enticing to this team than one set in our present decade. And that’s okay! There’s not only a ton of fashion potential in that era, but also storytelling tools that could not only maintain the current framing device, but also expand on it.

Imagine season 2 ending not with Lestat arriving at the door, but with Armand handing Daniel yet another stack of documents to read and research. Only this time it’s Rolling Stone interviews, vinyl records, music videos and mtv appearances on tape.. all of this ephemera could be used similarly to Claudia’s diary in s01e04 to develop a richer storytelling device. But also it would help to keep Louis the primary narrator, while still providing voice and agency to Lestat (who I suspect is recovering from his post-MTD coma, but that’s a theory for another day).

Of course this is all theory and I’m sure many of you are more informed on bts spoilers than I, but this is one topic I’ve been wanting to talk about since season 1 concluded, and knowing season 2 will be treading into TVL territory opens up a ton of possibilities. But yeah! Even if the show goes in a totally different direction I hope if nothing else this might inspire some fan artists to play around with an alternative era for Les!

[coraniaid]

Top five btvs headcannons?

Hmm. Lots of options to choose from, but let's go with:

Of all the deaths we see on the show that the characters are weirdly blase about and never talk about again (which is most of them) the one I feel should matter most is Kendra's. The writers very obviously don't care about Kendra at all (in a way that makes me pretty angry if I think about it for long) but, at the same, the only way I can reconcile my idea of Who Buffy Is As A Person with the events of the post-Becoming seasons is to try to persuade myself that Buffy is thinking about Kendra a lot of the time, and that this meaningfully affects her relationship with Faith in Season 3 (and, for that matter, with Dawn in Season 5 and the Potentials in Season 7 too). Because, yes, Faith represents a lot of Buffy's own supressed thoughts and desires, and yes, there are lots of parallels in Season 3 between Faith and Angel. But the very fact Faith exists as a Slayer at all should be enough to remind Buffy of the Slayer who was called after her and died before her. How could that not bleed into her relationship with Faith as a person? How can Buffy not look at Faith and be constantly thinking of the Slayer she failed to save? (According to the show's writers, the answer is: very, very easily.[1])

Sort of a meta-headcanon (a headcanon schema?), but: as far as possible, I like to believe that the Buffy characters who are meant to be friends might actually talk to each other sometimes. And when we don't see various personal conflicts get resolved on screen, yet everything seems back to normal later (especially between seasons), I tend to assume they just talked things through a bit off-camera. Probably Buffy and Xander had a conversation after Dead Man's Party which involved him offering a grovelling apology, which is why they're still on speaking terms later that season. Probably Joyce and Buffy actually talked a bit about her being the Slayer before Faith, Hope & Trick, so that Joyce's claim to have "tried to march in the Slayer Pride Parade isn't as absurd as it seems to be on the face of it". Probably Giles and Buffy talked about the Cruciamentum a bit after Helpless, which is why she's forgiven him by the time the next episode starts and she never brings his role up in it again. In particular, this is why I kind of hate the reveal in Season 7's Selfless that Xander never admitted to his Lie in Becoming, and that Buffy just spent the last five years thinking Willow decided to try to cast the spell to restore Angel's soul again without asking Buffy's permission or giving her any warning she was about to try it beyond "kick his ass".

There really isn't any evidence for it in canon and I suspect it's ultimately purely the invention of one of the early 2000s Fuffy writers, but I really like the popular fanfiction conceit that there is some sort of mystical connection between Slayers which (in a way that varies a little depending on the writer) gives them some additional awareness of the other Slayer's presence or emotional state. Not just because I'm enough of a sap to think that that's kind of romantic (although I am and I do), but because it's a nice way to explain away some slightly contrived bits of plotting in the show (all three Slayers have a way of finding each other very quickly when the plot requires it). In the same spirit, though with perhaps a little more evidence in canon, I like the idea that Buffy and Faith's shared dreams don't just happen when we see them, but have basically been going on ever since Faith arrived in Sunnydale (or at least since Faith's coma). Also, relatedly, I still like this headcanon I posted last month.

Sort of an anti-headcanon in some ways, but I refuse to accept that Buffy's memory of trying to tell her parents about vampires back in LA -- and being briefly institutionalized as a result -- (which was revealed/retconned in Season 6's Normal Again) is real. I think that (whatever the show claims) it had to have been a false memory implanted by the same demon that was giving her visions of still being there. Say what you like about whether or not the Joyce we see on the show was a good parent, but this is just blatant character assassination of the worst sort. It completely changes how we have to see Buffy's relationship with her mother and makes several scenes and outright plot points absurd (even if Joyce is the sort of monster who could forget about having her doctor locked up, even after learning that actually Buffy was always telling the truth, why would a Buffy who had been through that still keep a diary in the house she shares with her mother where she talked about the supernatural or prominently put up crucifixes in her house or make jokes about 'saving the world from vampires' when her mother asked her what she was thinking? why would she care about her mother's opinion of her at all? why would she wait until Season 2 to run away from home, and why would she ever come back?). Taken seriously, this just totally undermines a major part of Buffy's character and one of the most important relationships in her life. And for what? A stupid "maybe this is all a dream?" ending to the episode that means nothing and never goes anywhere. No, fuck that. Didn't happen and I simply refuse to believe it did. (I also strongly dislike the idea that it's a false memory caused by Dawn's presence; Dawn doesn't deserve to be blamed for that and her existence isn't meant to have had that big of an impact on the world.)

[1] Actually if I'm being totally honest I suspect that if you polled most of the show's writers with this question the answer you'd get back would be "who's Kendra?"

[coeurcanelle]

☆Baby,the stars shine bright☆pt3

pt1,pt2, pt4,pt5

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

wlw,fluff

wc:4k

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Her name is Ellie. She's been with her gang for a year now, and her favorite activity is driving through the city with her friends at night. She revealed she only has one parental figure, not her biological father but a father figure, which explains her taste in fashion.

Ellie somewhat resembles you more than your dad when you think about it. Both of you are the same age and spend most of your time doing things you enjoy, although she's more of a night owl while you're a morning person. Her favorite color is black, whereas yours is pink. She enjoys hanging out with people she bonds with, while you prefer solitude.

"Last Christmas with Joel, we decided to try decorating our house with cool lights, so we bought them and spent the evening displaying them all over the facade. We even got a little Santa with his reindeers and placed them on the roof. It looked really cool. But the next morning, everything was gone," Ellie admitted, implying she was just as reckless as you, but you disagreed.

"That's not just bad luck; you're just cursed."

Thieves weren't uncommon in the area, but catching them was difficult, as you were learning the hard way. That's why Ellie offered you a hand, claiming she had nothing else to do, although she felt bad for you. She didn't say it aloud, but she appreciated that you didn't accuse her of stealing your purse, and she would never forget that.

That is all you managed to get from her as you wandered around your isolated village looking for the thief that stole your purse.

You felt like a desperate mother searching for her lost child in the middle of nowhere. You could laugh at how desperate both you and Ellie looked, asking every single person you came across if they'd seen your precious item. But, with the luck you had, you were nowhere close to getting it back. Everyone gave you the same nerve-wracking answer: "sorry, I didn't see anything around, but if I do, I'll tell you right away".You were losing your patience by the minute, and Ellie could feel it.

"They all sound suspicious repeating the same thing",you sighed as you ranted. Yes, you were to blame, but no matter who it was, you were going to make them pay, a million times the price of your bag. There was no way you could let them get away with this.

"It's not like theyre actually going to say they stole it"

Both of you stopped walking, not only because you were tired but also because you had searched pretty much everywhere in this village. The clouds were hiding the sun, darkening the ground beneath, like your aura losing its brilliant colors and giving room to the darker ones brought by despair.

The only thing you could do was cry, but you were even too tired to shed tears. "I'm done."

Giving up was an option, but it wasn't part of Ellie's nature. "Maybe they don't live in this area."

"I dropped it in front of my house, and it's a small village in the middle of nowhere. How is it that out of nowhere, a thief popped up to get it?" Despite replaying this scene countless times, the lack of clues wasn't getting you anywhere. You started to wonder how someone could even do this to anyone; you wouldn't wish that upon your worst enemy.

It was just a purse, but you carried your wallet and your ID card with it!

It was becoming a serious matter

"maybe because thieves dont come out of nowhere, you're not thinking hard enough"

"are you saying I'm like a thief magnet or something ?"

ellie looked at you up and down not knowing if she was supposed to act surprise at your remark"how much did your purse even cost?"

she made you answer your own question confirming you were indeed a thief magnet,by dropping you purse you had actually dropped 5000 bucks on the ground !

who the hell puts that much money for a bag? Ellie thought

"that's not bad luck,you're just stupid," you could tell she had been restraining herself from saying this for so long, but you couldn't blame her.

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One more thing you would have never guessed about Ellie is how intelligent she actually was.

The thought of taking the train to go to Tokyo to find anyone selling your precious item, where you can target a big crowd of people, hadn't crossed your mind until Ellie brought it up.

You assumed your brain was badly functioning from the lack of reward after working so hard to find the thief. You have been walking around for what seemed like a lifetime to find nothing but more exhaustion enveloping you.

It made you wonder how the freckled-faced girl in front of you looked still full of energy.

Maybe she was just excited to beat up someone; after all, it might be just another normal day for her.

Most of the time, you'd find yourself enlightened walking around Japan's capital city, but under those circumstances, your mood couldn't get any better.

"It kinda looks similar," Ellie pointed at a purse displayed in a convenience store. She was trying her best to help you after gave her a precise description of your purse. Unfortunately, she has a very poor imagination.

"Not even close."

The weather became cloudier as you and Ellie wandered around, looking at everyone suspiciously. It was going to start raining, but Ellie had spotted places where you could stay since you didn't have an umbrella.

You only accepted when you came across a cute coffee shop.

🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆

With Baroque paintings displayed on the rock walls, the smell of menthol perfumed the whole place, and jazz played softly on speakers, you couldn't help but already fall in love with this place.

Ellie sat across from you, repeatedly trying to light up her joint, ignoring the 'smoking is forbidden' sign in front of the shop.

Silently, you sipped the hot tea, letting the aroma amplify once it touched your tongue. You didn't need much to be happy. Certainly, you didn't need Ellie to smoke in front of you, blowing some of it your way. The poor girl failed to catch your attention away from your tea, feeling ignored.

You kept silently drinking your tea, cherishing your daily tea time, closing your eyes to quiet your worried thoughts for a moment. The motorcycle girl took out her joint and lit it up again; the flicking sound was starting to annoy you.

You opened your eyes to her taking a puff from her nose

"stop that"

even though you were slightly annoyed she managed to get your attention back to herself

"man im just trying to lighten up the mood"ellie said after blowing the smoke out of her nostrils proudly.

You liked the smell of cigarettes, and though you didn't smoke, you could tell she was, in fact, not smoking one. That's why you refused when she proposed you take a puff.

Instead of convincing you, she tried to impress you by taking another puff with her other nostril.

"Seriously, do you get paid to be a clown?" you asked, trying to annoy her, as you lifted up your cup to drink more tea.

"I thought about it, but I'd lose my job if they ever hired you," you almost choked on the tea, making Ellie laugh so hard she put a hand on her stomach. You had just confirmed what she had said as she watched you cough, almost coughing your lungs out.

"Was it the weed that was making Ellie stop taking everything personally?

"I'll charge you with attempted murder," you said, rolling your eyes at the girl in front of you.

After a while, Ellie's rambles attracted all your focus away from the taste of the tea and the jazz music playing, but you weren't complaining as she was interesting to listen to. The reason she bought a jacket similar to the her other ones was that her gang was organizing a festival, and it was coming soon, she wanted to look brand new. All she needed was to find a local designer to write the name of her gang. The money she had came from her dad and giving guitar lessons, which surprised you; you didn't expect her to be an artist.

A new side of her was shown to you as she kept rambling. You noticed how she scratched her neck every now and then, the way she would speed up her speech when she gets excited, and when she'd stutter a bit when you were keeping eye contact. She stopped talking after realizing she's been the only one talking, but you truthfully didn't mind.

"so when's the last time you killed someone ?" you asked making the girl in front of you confused

Ellie discovered a new side of you too; you were more of a listener than a talker, and for a person like her who likes to ramble, it was a win for her.

"I said I'm from a gang, not that I'm a local serial killer," Ellie explained. The Ellie you would have just met would have answered defensively, but her tone was rather sarcastic. She was bearable when she didn't take everything personally.

It was true that many gangs out there have blood on their hands, killing their opponents but also innocent citizens. But Ellie didn't share the same values and joined a gang you've never heard of before.

"I joined Dina's gang after trying to run away from home. I didn't know how to fight at the time; she taught me everything. I owe it all to her." The more you talked, the more questions you had. The conversation easily switched from carefree to serious.

The deadly gangs you would hear about were the ones targeted by Ellie's gang, which is motivated by values of respect and loyalty rather than free violence. That is why you've never heard of it, because most gangs are like the ones your father was once in.

This also explains why ellie is still following you around helping you to find your stolen purse,but this also makes you wonder....

"why did you run away?"

Suddenly, Ellie realized she had been oversharing quite a lot, but it's not her fault that you have such a trusting aura!

Getting better at reading Ellie, you realized you touched a sensitive subject and looked away from her, back at your now-empty cup of tea, trying to change the subject. "i'm still wondering though..." You recalled the letter you received from Ellie, the one with childlike writing.

"how did you discover where I live?" You didn't forget how Ellie mentioned she would meet you at your house instead of you going up to hers, but maybe that's because, in this case, you would have thought it was a trap and you wouldn't come there. You thought about this, but it still doesn't unravel the mystery of her knowing exactly where you live, which was kind of unsettling.

"wasn't hard. I just followed your dad after he was done selling in Tokyo." The casual tone in her answer just made the whole thing even more unsettling. You wondered if it was just the weed and hoped she was lying.

"you mean you stalked my dad?" You asked, hoping you were the one hearing wrong.

"how is that stalking? I just followed him to your house, but not like that..." Ellie tried to explain rationally but made things even worse, confirming you had been hearing perfectly.

"girl, did you drop out of kindergarten? That IS stalking. Why would you do that?" You were absolutely at a loss for words. More confused than upset, you knew Ellie didn't mean to harm anyone, but her way of using rational thinking was still questionable.

Ellie sighed,she didnt know how to explain this while sounding sane"first of all shut up I didnt drop out,I just wanted to know where I could get clothes from him thats all"

thats all ?

"you were literally going to beat me up when I showed up instead of him",you said raising your eyebrows,you werent even upset you just wanted to tease her

"no-omg-okay maybe.. but everything turned out fine"the auburn haired girl stuttered as she scratched her neck again,you noted she'd do this when nervous

"i should call the cops on you wtf"

ellie looked up at you,with a stupid smirk on her face"you need me you cant do that"

You played along, pretending to be upset as you got up and started to leave. However, Ellie felt bad, interpreting your sarcasm as seriousness, and grabbed your arm as she started to apologize for stalking your dad.

"I was just going to pay for the tea," you said, but Ellie got up instead, doing it for you.

You hadn't expected her to take your playful act seriously, but it was kind of hilarious.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

It was true that you needed her help to catch whoever stole your bag. She knew how to fight, and she did look scary to people. You could already imagine the scumbag surrendering and giving back your precious item... but then again, this looked way too easy.

After your tea time and Ellie's smoking session, you went for another round of walking, looking for your purse.

"She's probably wearing a blue frilly dress like you, because your bag is blue. I guess she wanted to match."

"I've never seen another lolita girl in my hometown," you might not have any clues, but you might have a lead.You told Ellie it might be an average mid-30s man who happens to know the worth of your purse but Ellie was reluctant.

However, you finally decided to file a report of your stolen purse to the police, hoping they would do a better job at catching the thief. After doing so, you walked outside where Ellie was leaning on a wall, smoking again. She remained calm despite the fact that you didn't catch the thief.

"You know what? I'm convinced we're living in a simulation, and that none of this is real. We might be aliens sent from Mars, or maybe we're re-experiencing past life memories, or maybe we're just in some deep coma we have to wake up from."

Although you didn't smoke, you seemed more high than Ellie. "never try smoking."

How was she still happy enough to make jokes despite how awful this situation is making you feel?

"maybe its a life lesson,I should stop buying expensive things from now on"

"oh c'mon its really not that deep,you dont like your purse anymore or something?"

"It's not that-"

"if you can buy one you can buy another one",ellie walked up to you after tossing her joint on the floor giving it a few stomps to put out the burn

"do you think money grows on trees or something ?"

Ellie looked you up and down, from your embroidered white headband to your 'Alice and the Pirates' frilly dress and your white platform boots. She didn't see your outfit as just a simple ensemble, but rather a bag full of gold, ready to be converted into money.

"hell no, don't even think about that," you said firmly. No matter how difficult things could get, you would rather be killed than sell any of the clothes you own. It was like reselling Christmas gifts; you grew emotionally attached to those priceless dresses.

"I knew you'd say no. I was just joking," Ellie said before both of you went on to another activity:getting money to buy a similar purse. Cleaning people's shoes, betting on the three shell games, pickpocketing... You realized getting money in Tokyo wasn't that hard, but none of these options appealed to you for now.

You had to find something that would certainly get you money.

Ellie walked beside you, looking around too. You wondered if she was joking around because she was high or just letting her guard down. Either way, you didn't mind her being this way.. She had stopped spitting and approaching you like she was going to headbutt you after you got to know each other better.

"how about this?" ellie stopped and pointed at a building as she looked at you with a smirk

"I have enough trouble as it is, adding more isn't something I'm interested in," you replied. Wasn't it obvious that you've never been into criminal activity before? So why was she thinking about robbing a whole bank?

The sigh that escaped Ellie was one of pure disappointment, though she was half-joking. But that changed once you stopped by an eating contest.

"Spicy food contest, winner gets $100," both you and Ellie read on a large poster placed on a table. A few chairs were arranged around the table, and your eyes followed some people seated in front of a chef's hat. Only two chairs were unoccupied. You looked at Ellie, unsure if she would agree, but she instantly read your mind.

"I've eaten spicy food before, it's no big deal."

Your energy shifted to competitive mode; there was no way you could consider losing, but if you did, you hoped Ellie had your back."what kind of spicy food, though?"

"just trust me, it's a piece of cake," the auburn-haired girl said before stretching her arms and neck as if she was preparing for a fight. She wasn't considering losing either.

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Already 2 minutes in, Ellie's face was red from the spiciness. The contest consisted of eating a whole plate of different spicy foods under 5 minutes. From noodles to chicken wings, Ellie felt like her tongue was on fire!

Milk wasn't enough to calm down Ellie; she felt like drinking a whole river.

You, on the other hand, were handling it pretty well; your grandma used to give you a bottle of Tabasco to punish you as a kid, so this was nothing compared to what you had experienced.

Maybe pain does make you strong?

"Time's up! Everyone, open your mouth!"

With luck and a little bit of courage, your plate was entirely empty with no crumbs left compared to other contestants. Some even tried to cheat by hiding their food under the table, but it still didn't stop you from winning!

The man who organized the contest congratulated you and rewarded you after cleaning up the table. Ellie looked at you in absolute shock; she also felt kind of humiliated after what she had told you, but at least you got what you came for.

"It's just spicy food, no big deal, yeah?" You couldn't help but tease Ellie about it. The confident look on her face vanished from the moment she started to eat the spicy chicken; she wasn't even looking at you, embarrassed.

"shut up, I was close to beating you." You just laughed at her words; her face was still a bit red from eating. You counted up the money you had, only a few bucks, and you could buy yourself a new purse!

"wanna go for another round then?" The auburn girl stayed silent and responded with a violent side-eye. You understood you had to find another way to get money rather than eating spicy food...

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Ellie convinced you to bet the $100 you won on the three shell game after refusing multiple times. It turns out she didn't lie when she said she was good at seeing through those scams.

"I used to learn magic tricks when I was 10," she told you, and you didn't need to know what for after she got your money doubled up. Only a few bucks were left, and an idea popped up in your mind as you and Ellie kept walking in Tokyo: "why don't you bring your guitar and play here?"

The thought of playing in front of everyone was making Ellie nervous, not because she was bad or anything, but she didn't want to come across a potential enemy of her gang. She had to keep her tough image, especially in the streets.

"uh, I'm still learning, and I never practiced in front of a big crowd," Ellie lied, but you kept insisting.

"come on, are you really that bad? You said you've been playing since you were a child"

Despite your insistence, it didn't have the same effect on Ellie as it had on your dad.

"It doesn't mean I play like a professional; plus, there are many other ways to get money," Ellie kept giving you reasons, but you finally stopped insisting. In fact, you didn't need to get money anymore to buy a new bag...

You finally found it!

Ellie noticed the change in your expression and wondered what was going on, so she followed the direction of your gaze.

There it was, shining bright like a diamond, as blue as the sky, begging to be back in its place. It was an average man with a long beard in his mid-30s, carrying it as he walked in front of you.

Ellie turned her head to look back at you, silently asking, 'Do you want me to take care of him?' But you didn't want to leave this to Ellie. You felt rage building up inside you along with a sense of relief; you had to make him pay.

You ran towards the man who was walking in front of you, hoping to catch him before he disappeared again. The sound of your platform boots approaching made him turn his head in curiosity before you jumped on him. Both of you fell hard to the floor; his head hit the ground while his hands were still clutching your purse.

You snatched it out of his hands, not caring about hurting him. You were more hurt than he was after what he's done. The look of pity on his face made your blood boil. He even had the audacity to reach for your purse again!

"It's mine, you fucking dumbass bitch. Try to ever steal from me again and I'll slit your throat open until you bleed to death. You can have fun stealing other people's bags in hell." You spat on his face after stomping his stomach, releasing all the anger you've been carrying.

This man needed to be humbled.

You've always been told to fight back. If someone hits you, you should hit harder. And if the person hitting you still has the audacity to hurt you, you didn't hit hard enough.

The man finally stopped trying to get back your purse as he was busy spitting blood. You stopped hitting him, considering that was enough karma for him.

You had to let him know you weren't a person to mess with.

Despite your brilliant and cute clothes, a wise soul and a strong character were hidden within, one that despised being bothered.

You walked away from the man, making sure your purse still had your personal belongings, unaware that your scene had attracted the attention of the people around. You approached Ellie, who was once again at a loss for words.

The girl also walked up to you. "how can you even run in those?" She pointed at your shoes.

"practice, I guess," you shrugged your shoulders before taking Ellie's hand. You didn't know where to go, but you definitely didn't want to stay in the eyes of the people who had witnessed you beating up a 30-year-old man.

You began to walk, dragging Ellie with you, but she stopped. "wait."

You were met with confusion and dropped her hand

Was she scared or something?

Ellie was also bad at reading people, but you made things even worse for her. You were like a book with covers that didn't match the atmosphere of the story, but the side of you that you had just shown got her hooked.

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of motorcycles roaring nearby. You had attracted a whole gang!

They were all girls wearing the same jacket as Ellie's, no helmets, no weapons, but they were still radiating an intimidating yet powerful energy. Their motorcycles stopped just behind Ellie, and you felt the girls' intimidating gaze on you. You looked at Ellie, wondering what was happening.

Ellie didn't even need to turn around to know that it was her gang. She kept looking at you.

"why don't you join me?"