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bestaez · 6 months

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Don't Fear the Reaper

Scream AU

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

warnings: murder, graphic violence, mature themes, obsessive behavior, sexual content

word count: 13k

summary/preview: Just a year since your brother’s brutal murder, bad luck seems to strike again in your once-peaceful hometown. It seems as if death wants to follow you as it finds its next victim in one of your school friends. The more the murders start to connect, you begin to wonder if it really could be just a copycat killer or if the wrong man was imprisoned.

quick note: this is very unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! ty🖤

It had been almost a year since your brother’s death and you still couldn’t believe it was real. His bedroom door had been practically sealed shut, neither you nor your father daring to venture inside. The sight of his empty room getting dusty would have just made it that much more real - something the both of you didn’t need as the constant news coverage had done enough of that job already.

It wasn’t necessarily that you were so distraught over Seowon’s death that you couldn’t come to terms with it. He was your older brother, your own blood, but that didn’t mean the two of you had been the closest siblings. You would describe your relationship over the years as lukewarm at best. You loved him because he was your brother but you never truly felt like you knew him. It was also hard to mourn with news vans following you everywhere you went.

The part that was hard to believe was the way in which he had died. He had been found in the woods near your house with seventeen stab wounds. It didn’t make any sense. Your brother had been a star football player at your school, part of the popular crowd. He was well-liked amongst students and teachers. You didn’t think anyone had a bad opinion of him. It’s possible he had rivals especially in sports or romances but nothing that would warrant murder.

Initially, there had been a lot of speculation in the town and you had heard all the rumors, including the one where your father had killed him in a fit of rage. You knew it could never be true; your father had been devastated by your brother’s death. He had been emotionless before, but now he was just a shell of the man he was. And whoever said loss could bring people closer had obviously never met your father.

The truth was that your father had always been emotionally closed for as long as you had known him. Your mother had died from complications after your birth and though he had never voiced it, you knew that he had resented you for being the cause of your mother’s death. At times, you wished you had never been born because living with the guilt had been too much to bear especially living with a father who never forgave you for it.

When the police eventually did find a suspect, you were shocked to say the least. Min Yoongi was a few years older than you and had already graduated when the murder weapon as well as your brother’s blood on his clothing was found. He had always been a serious guy and if you asked most people, they would say they had always believed he kept skeletons in his closet. You knew he was a bit of a recluse, but you never would have guessed he was capable of murder. The motive they came up with was that Yoongi had been jealous of your brother’s popularity and mixed with his own mental instability, things inevitably came to a day and he decided to act out his aggressions.

Many people wanted to know your side of it, whether you believed the story and whatnot. You had mostly stayed silent on the matter, unlike your father who had screamed at Yoongi in court and had to be dragged out of the room. You can still remember the stares you got from everyone that day - it was the same look you got from most of the town and your classmates. A mix of pity, curiosity, and judgment.

It was safe to say you hadn’t been looking forward to this time of year. The true crime fanatics had seemingly been ramping up their shenanigans, hoping to possibly find some clue that would connect more of the dots. The stares you always felt in town and at school hadn’t lessened and seemed to be picking up a bit more in recent weeks as the anniversary drew closer.

Which is why most nights, you would find yourself holed up in your bedroom where it was calmer. Much to your best friend's dismay, as she would always try to drag you away to some party or school outing. Haena hated it when you closed yourself off and didn’t believe in wallowing alone. In her eyes, it was as if your introvertedness was just a sickness that she had to cure.

The only person who understood your feelings was your boyfriend, Taehyung. He, too, was a bit of a homebody and didn’t mind staying in with you most nights. He did have more friends and liked to party, but he never pressured you to go out. Part of you believed he enjoyed having you all to himself that way and for some reason you didn’t mind it.

You don’t know how you got so lucky getting a boyfriend like Taehyung. He was so dreamy with dark black locks that were often tucked behind his ear and matching dark eyes that seemed to always be on you. He was an artist and could often be found wearing distressed jeans and sweaters with little splotches of paint here and there. He was extremely affectionate, always having to have his hands on you some way or another.

The two of you met in freshman year art class where you had quickly realized you had no business holding a paintbrush, much to Taehyung’s amusement. He would offer to fix up your paintings when the teacher wasn’t looking and was the only reason you ended up passing. It wasn’t until a little after that semester that the two of you started dating.

A low tapping interrupted your thoughts as you sat in bed, almost too quiet to hear over the television playing in your room. You got up to investigate, pulling your curtains open to see none other than Taehyung leaning up against your window using a ladder to get up here. You weren’t even sure if that ladder was yours but you were glad your window didn’t face the street where others could see.

You opened the window as you spluttered in shock, stepping back to allow him room to clamber inside. You held your breath as you kept an ear out to make sure your dad hadn’t heard his nosy arrival, eyes trained on the door like he would bust in any moment.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed once you had regained your composure.

“What, I can’t visit my girlfriend?” Taehyung pouted. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too but if my dad catches you-” “He won’t.” Taehyung cut you off, leveling you with his beautiful dark eyes as he leaned closer to you on the bed. “I’m stealthy.”

You breathed out a sigh, at a loss for words from his sudden close proximity. He reminded you of a tiger the way he stared you down like you were prey. You were so mesmerized by him you had missed him inching closer until you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Tae-” You tried to stop him but he shushed you, pressing his mouth to yours.

Taehyung was your first serious boyfriend and there hadn’t been a single dull moment in your relationship yet. For you, every new experience you had with him had been a thrill. But there was only so many heated makeouts you two could have before you knew he would want to do more. He understood you were inexperienced and was willing to wait but you wondered how much longer before he cracked.

As if on cue, his hand grazed your thigh lightly as if to test the waters. When you didn’t stop him, he grew more confident and raised it until it reached your hip, squeezing gently. You appeared calm on the outside but on the inside, your heart was racing.

He pulled back a bit to look you in the eyes, licking his lips as he smirked. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

Your eyes widened in embarrassment as you quickly sat up, covering your cheeks as you felt them heating. You had hoped it wouldn’t have been so obvious. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Still so nervous around me after all this time,” He chuckled wryly, lifting a hand to remove the ones covering your face. His fingers caressed your cheek as he gazed at you. “What can I do to make you more comfortable, baby?”

“I’m sorry.” You breathed, feeling your heart skip at all the intense eye contact. “I just need more time.”

“Don’t be sorry. I told you I would wait.” He gave you a small smile, leaning in to give you another kiss. He brushed a hand through your hair before pulling away and making his way back over to the window.

You watched him begin his descent back down to the ground before an idea popped into your head. You don’t know where the sudden confidence came from but the sight of his retreating back made you want to try something.

“Taehyung,” You called out from the window once he had made it all the way down. He looked back up at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in question. “Something to hold you over for now?”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you lifted your shirt up, exposing your breasts to him from down below. You waited a few nerve wracking seconds before pulling it back down, giggling nervously as you did.

His look of pure shock made it all worth it, preventing any possible embarrassment from flooding into your system. You could tell your stunt had rendered him speechless for a moment, if the choked sputters coming from him were anything to go by.

“I think you just made it worse.” He finally spoke, his voice deep and chilling. You laughed loudly, moving to shut your window closed.

*****

When you arrived at school the next day, the atmosphere was tenser than usual. You were used to people whispering around you but this was different. People seemed to be more huddled in groups. It was as if there was some unseen sinister presence that had arrived. You weren’t sure if you could just blame it on the seasons changing but there definitely seemed to be a chill in the air this morning.

A hand grabbing your arm on your way through the courtyard startled you, your heart jumping only to see it was just Haena. Her eyes were wide as she squeezed your forearm urgently. You could tell just by her expression that whatever was going on was serious.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your confusion was obvious as you watched realization dawn on her.

“You haven’t heard...” She paused as if trying to find the right words, biting her lip unsurely. “YN, some students were murdered last night.”

“What? Who?” The shock spread throughout your body like a numbness, your extremities feeling cold all of the sudden.

“Park Jimin and Yoon Iseul.”

You weren’t sure if any names that could possibly come out of her mouth would not come as a shock but this just floored you. Jimin and Iseul were the school’s power couple. Everyone was in love with them or wanted to be their friend. The correlation between their deaths and your brother’s wasn’t lost on you. Could it be a copycat killer? You didn’t want to think of the alternative - that Yoongi had been wrongfully imprisoned.

“That must be why everyone is acting so strange today.” You mumbled mindlessly, hearing the words coming out of your mouth but not feeling connected with them. “I just saw Iseul yesterday in sixth period.”

“It’s all I’ve been hearing about this morning. How Iseul’s parents came home to the grizzliest scene you can imagine. They said Jimin was tied up and they found Iseul out- '' Her chattering stopped upon seeing the sick look on your face, her lips pressing together as if just now realizing who she was speaking to. You didn’t blame her though - you knew she was just in shock. “Well, you get the gist. Apparently a neighbor saw the killer run out of there wearing some kind of weird ghost mask. Now everyone’s calling them ‘Ghostface.’”

“I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”

At some point in the day, you were called to the principal’s office for questioning. This wasn’t strange, though, as everyone in the entire school was going through the same thing. The police figured their first place to look was at the school, which made sense.

They had asked you simple questions like how well you knew Jimin and Iseul, if you knew if they were in any drama at school, etc. You had answered honestly and as accurately as you could. To be honest, you hadn’t the slightest who could have done something like this. But you could sense the detectives figured you might have some clue as you had been around death before. They looked at you like you had some kind of ghost hanging around you.

You decided that going through your day like you always did was the best shot at getting through it, clinging to any shred of normalcy that you could find. And if that meant having lunch with Haena and her usual friend group, then so be it. The seven of you were sitting outside in the courtyard, the climate having warmed up a bit since this morning.

The boys were goofing off with each other as if nothing was wrong, which in a way comforted you. You needed to act like everything was okay or else you could feel your sanity start to slip. Eyeing Haena, she was chatting with Jungkook while throwing her feet in his lap. He was rubbing her lower calves and you couldn’t help but watch how comfortable they were with each other in public like this.

It gave you the courage to lean back onto Taehyung who was sitting behind you, his warm chest a welcome embrace. He responded by wrapping his arms around your front, not missing a beat as he conversed with Hobi about the quiz they took this morning.

“Did they ask you guys if you liked to hunt?” Hobi asked all of the sudden, the idle chatter dying down as you all knew he was talking about the police interrogations all students had to partake in today.

“Yeah, I just told them I liked to fish.” Jin barked out a laugh.

You wondered out loud, “Why would they ask that?”

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Hobi responded matter-of-factly, turning to Jin with a suspicious look. “Kind of like a fish.”

“Thank you, Hobi.” Taehyung spoke sarcastically and you could practically feel his eye roll from behind you.

“They didn’t ask me about hunting,” Haena frowned in confusion.

“You think a girl could have pulled off a murder like that? Yeah, right.” Jungkook chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at her in a condescending manner.

Haena scoffed in disgust, pulling her legs off his lap. “That is so sexist of you. Plenty of women become serial killers - look at Aileen Wuornos.”

“She used a gun on her male-only victims. Not exactly the same.”

“Yeah, from what I hear Jimin and Iseul were barely recognizable by the time they found them.” Jungkook informed, seemingly undeterred by Haena’s annoyance. “The fact is that it would take a man to do something like that.”

“How do you gut someone?” Your voice trembled as you voiced the question, your curiosity getting the best of you. Taehyung tightened his arms around you and leaned his head on your neck, leaving a kiss there.

It was silent for a moment before Jungkook spoke up, “Well, you’d get a knife and start from the groin-”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up.” Taehyung’s harsh tone left no room for argument and even made you tense up a bit.

“Didn’t you date Iseul?” You asked Jungkook.

His eyes lit up for a moment as he chuckled, “Yeah, for like two seconds.”

“Before she dumped him for Jimin!” Hobi chimed in. “Hmm, I wonder how the police would feel if they knew you were her lover scorned.”

“What, you think I killed her?” Jungkook laughed genuinely, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sure you would love to see me behind bars but I’m afraid I have an alibi.”

Haena rolled her eyes as Jungkook winked at her, fed up with his immaturity. “If you think I’m going to defend your misogynistic ass, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Jungkook watched her with a pout as she stood up to leave, gathering her books for the next class. “Come on, baby! You know I’m not a killer.”

She ignored him as she walked off, which led to him jumping up and following her to no doubt get back in her good graces. Those two had been on-and-off for a while but you would be lying if you said their shenanigans weren’t entertaining. He was a pig-headed jock and she was an artsy type. They didn’t make any sense but somehow they ended up together.

*****

You went home that day to an empty house and a note on the kitchen table, which both surprised you and somehow didn’t. You were used to your father skipping out on you with no notice but to leave a note? That wasn’t like him.

Got a lead for a job out of town so I’ll be gone for a few days. I’ll try to call but might not have service -Dad

You supposed the message was emotionally detached enough to be from him but you couldn’t help the strange feeling you got from reading it. You knew he probably wouldn’t call or if he did, it would be just to let you know he was staying longer. He knew you didn’t expect much from him and probably preferred it that way. Weirdly enough, you did too.

Exhausted from the day, you threw your bag on the floor and collapsed on the couch. You flipped the TV on and surfed through the channels mindlessly before one with a news headline and familiar face caught your eye. It was a reporter that you recognized almost immediately - Kim Namjoon. He had covered your brother’s case extensively and even wrote a book about it.

“ This small but mighty town has been hit yet again with another gruesome homicide case. Two young teenagers were found brutally murdered in their own home. ” He spoke clearly, his dragon-eyes penetrating you through the TV screen. You had seen them in person and knew how deadly their effect could be. “ Authorities have yet to release any statement but we know now that no arrest has been made and the murderer could strike again. ”

“ Could it be merely just a coincidence that this month is the anniversary of yet another senseless killing? It has been only ten months since Min Yoongi was found guilty for the murder of Jung Wooshik, who was also a student at Woodsboro High. ” Namjoon continued, and you held your breath as you waited for him to say what you had been fearing. “ Many have made a few theories on what could be the meaning of this, including that of a possible copycat killer or perhaps a wrongful imprisonment. It’s safe to say the town of Woodsboro needs to stay vigilant on protecting its own. ”

You cut him off there, not wanting to hear any more. Namjoon had made it clear early on that he was doubtful of Yoongi being the killer and spent most of his news coverage with that perspective. You tried not to take it personally but there had been instances where it seemed like the reporter blamed you for what happened. You knew you weren’t directly responsible for Yoongi’s conviction but you couldn’t help but wonder if you should feel guilty. You had only told the truth to the judge, that you had seen Yoongi by your house the day your brother died. That your brother had bought some weed from him and that you had seen him leaving while your brother was still alive. What happened between then and when your brother was killed was completely unknown to you.

But your witness testimony along with the physical evidence found in Yoongi’s home and car had been enough to convict him. You can still vividly remember the expression on Yoongi’s face when the verdict was given, as though he hadn’t even heard the judge. You couldn’t help but be amazed at his absolute indifference to everything going on around him at all times. You had never seen him smile or get angry ever. He kept all his emotions inside and it only fueled to make you more unsure of him.

The sound of the phone ringing loudly next to you made you jump, hand laying on your chest to feel your racing heart. You took a deep breath before you answered, “Hello?”

“YN, I just wanted to check on you and make sure you got home okay.” Of course it was just Haena. You knew she worried about you especially when you were home with your father.

“Yeah, I’m okay. My dad’s left town apparently so I’ve got the place to myself.”

“Oh shit, really?” She sounded stunned by this. “Didn’t he hear the news?”

“Not sure. Although knowing him, he might have just wanted to get away from all the media craziness.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” As if she could sense your hesitance, she continued in a more serious tone, “I know you probably think I’m being dramatic but I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“Okay.” You relented, agreeing that it was probably best to not be isolated and vulnerable with a killer on the loose.

You ran upstairs to pack some clothes for the week, unsure of how long you would be staying there. The thought occurred to you that you should probably let Taehyung know where you would be going just in case he tried to make another surprise sneak-in on you again. You picked up your phone and dialed his number. It rang one time before immediately going to voicemail, causing you to pull the phone back and look at it in confusion. It wasn’t like him to outright reject your call, so you tried again. This time it rang all the way through before going to voicemail.

“Huh, that’s weird.” You waited for the automated voice to end and the beep to sound before leaving him a message informing him of where you would be tonight as well as Haena’s home number in case he needed to reach you later.

When you got to Haena’s house a little while later, you weren’t exactly sure why you felt uneasy all of the sudden seeing the police vehicle in her driveway. Her dad was Sheriff Lee and he had always been like a father to you, more so than your own father anyway. But just seeing his car again after so long and knowing he was in there was dredging up old memories that you had tried to forget.

Haena answered the door with a bright grin and pulled you inside excitedly. You already knew you were in for an eventful next few days, especially with her two younger brothers who were always loud and rambunctious. But oddly enough, you found that you enjoyed being around such a loving and busy household because that had never been your home experience.

You were greeted by warm hugs from Mrs. Lee before she quickly sat you down for dinner with a plate full of food. Haena rolled her eyes at her mom’s antics especially when she realized she was not included in this display of special treatment and would have to make her own plate. At some point, Sheriff Lee rolled in and you could tell by the tired lines on his face that this week had taken a toll on him.

He still greeted you with a smile and a pat on the head before joining you all at the table. Mrs. Lee brought her husband a plate and you couldn’t help but watch as he grabbed her hand to give it a kiss. The two of them had always been a sweet couple and what with your lack of ever seeing that growing up, you were always fascinated by them.

“How’s your father doing, YN?” Haena’s father asked.

“Fine,” You answered, rolling a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “He’s actually on a work trip this week so Haena convinced me to come stay here for a little while if that’s okay.”

“You know you’re always welcome here, honey. You’re practically family.” Mrs Lee was quick to reassure you.

“Work trip, huh?” Sheriff Lee’s eyebrows were drawn together as he held a spoonful of stew in front of him thoughtfully. “Did he mention where?”

“Nope. You know how he is,” You answered honestly and he nodded.

Just then, the phone rang and Mrs. Lee got up to go answer it. You were about to go clean your dish when she came back into the kitchen and said, “YN, someone’s on the phone for you.”

You quickly went over to go pick it up, “Hello?”

“YN,” Taehyung’s deep voice came through on the other line, sounding hushed and slightly out-of-breath. “I just got your message.”

“Oh, yeah well I just didn’t want you to go worrying if you called me and I didn’t answer. Haena’s family is taking care of me.”

“Yeah? That’s good.” He responded, and you could practically picture him posted up somewhere like the cool guy he was. “Although, I wish I had answered when you called because I could have kept you company.”

“I’m sure you would have liked that.” You chuckled. “I don’t think my heart can handle another one of your window sneak-ins.”

“Well, I don’t think my heart can handle being away from you that long.”

“You’ll still see me at school.” You reasoned, rolling your eyes despite him not being able to see you.

“Yeah but that’s school. You won’t even let me kiss you unless it’s somewhere hidden.” You could practically hear his pout through the receiver. “Why don’t you meet me at your place sometime this week? I’ll cook you dinner and we can finally be alone together.”

You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at his sudden pushiness to get you alone. You knew if you agreed to meet him at your house that he would probably try to have sex with you again. As much as you wanted to take that step with him, you were scared.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, what with the recent murders and all. I think it’s probably best to stay in larger groups.”

“What, you don’t think I can protect you? I know I’m skinny but I’m strong.”

“No I know you can but it’s just not a good time right now.”

“Yeah, I know. You haven’t been yourself in a while.” He huffed into the receiver.

You laughed sarcastically, unsure if he was being serious right now. “Yeah, sorry I’m not in the mood to have sex with you right now. I’m kinda still reeling over the deaths of our classmates.”

“I don’t mean recently. You haven’t been the same since Seowon died.” His words shocked you, not understanding where this was coming from all of the sudden.

“Uh, well that’s kind of what loss does to a person if you didn’t know. They change - drastically.” All humor was gone from your tone as you felt yourself getting annoyed with him.

“Yeah well it’s been a year since he died and you’re still so skittish around me. It’s like you think I’m some kind of bad guy.”

“I’m sorry if my trauma has ruined things for you but no one is making you stay with me. If you need it that badly then you-”

“Stop. That’s not what I meant at all.” He huffed angrily, taking a pause to gather his thoughts. “Listen, I don’t want to make you upset. I know it’s hard to see right now but I’m just feeling insecure. I want to make sure we’re still okay.”

At your silence, he let out another sigh. “I’m gonna let you go now. Please don’t be mad at me. I love you.”

He didn’t say anything after that but he stayed on the line, and you knew he was waiting for you to say it back. Hoping for you to say it back. And as pissed off as he had made you, you hated the idea of going to bed mad at him. So you conceded, for now.

“I love you too.”

*****

When you arrived on campus the next day, you spotted Namjoon standing near his usual news van. He was dressed smartly in an olive sweater and gray slacks, his glasses making him look more like a university student than a reporter. He was busy sorting through some papers, probably brushing up on his notes before he did his next broadcast.

You felt compelled to speak with him, especially after everything that had been going on recently. Over the past year, he had reached out to you multiple times for a comment and you always declined. The only time you had spoken in-person was after the court case had ended and it hadn’t been the most cordial moment.

“YN, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?” Namjoon raised his eyebrows at you, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite pick up in his expression.

“I wanted to talk to you about Min Yoongi.”

“Okay.” He spoke slowly, glancing over at his camera crew who were standing a few feet away. “I’m guessing this is off the record?”

“Yes, please.” You paused, trying to think on how to start. “I know you probably don’t think very highly of me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you wrote a whole book on how my witness testimony was the reason an innocent man was imprisoned.”

“Yes. I still stand by that.” He responded honestly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So what, you think I’m a liar?”

“You painted a picture that made him look like a killer. I think you were so desperate for all the media coverage and court trials to end that you picked him as a scapegoat.”

“Have you talked to Yoongi?”

“Many times. He admits to selling drugs to your brother but that’s all.” The look on his face told you just how in-depth their conversations had gone. Namjoon was a very detail-oriented man.

“Then how do you explain the blood on his clothes and the murder weapon in his home?”

“His roommate testified that he came home high with no blood on his clothes. Someone else planted all that evidence and framed him.” The way he spoke of Yoongi was almost like they were close; he clearly felt very strongly about clearing his name.

“Why are you so adamant on proving his innocence? Did you know him?”

“Why do you care what I think?” Namjoon’s face screwed up as he seemed to grow more irritated with you. This was the real emotion you expected to get from him, behind the friendly facade he tried to put on with you. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Yoongi’s life is ruined, he’ll never see the light of day again.”

“That’s not what I wanted.” Now, it was your turn to look confused. “I wanted justice. I told the judge exactly what I saw that day.”

His lips pursed as he thought for a moment, processing your words. “Yes, I knew Yoongi. We weren’t exactly friends but anyone who knew him knew he was harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Harmless and yet he sold drugs to teenagers?” You regretted it as soon as it came out your mouth. You knew it was a low blow and you didn’t truly care that he did that anyway but you needed to cling onto some semblance that you made the right call.

He hummed as he searched your face for a moment, “Why are you asking me about Yoongi all of the sudden? You’re not so sure anymore, are you?”

“No, Yoongi murdered my brother.” You weren’t even sure if you believed yourself at how weak your voice sounded.

“These murders are related, aren’t they? The killer’s still on the loose.” He sounded almost triumphant as he marveled at your recent revelation, the cogs in his head working on overdrive. You had just confirmed his biggest theory yet despite your best efforts not to.

Now was a good time to leave. You weren’t sure what you had hoped to get out of this interaction but it wasn’t this. You had been avoiding the truth for a long time but it was catching up to you.

“Goodbye, Namjoon. Always a pleasure.” He didn’t respond as he watched you move to leave, his lips moving as he quietly murmured to himself. Despite his dark calculating eyes following your every move, you knew that he was in a different place conjuring up his next news broadcast.

*****

Halfway through the school day, it became apparent that Principal Choi had not shown up nor called in sick. After multiple attempts to reach his home phone, one of the administrators called the police to do a wellness check. And what they had found upon entering his home had been what everyone was fearing.

The news of Principal Choi’s death spread through the school like wildfire and you could tell the staff struggled to hold themselves together while keeping the students organized. A few police officers arrived at the school to work with the administrators on figuring out how to go about letting the students go home.

You were in the library with Haena and Jungkook when a pair of boys came running through your section and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. One was screaming in an exaggerated manner and the other was wearing the infamous Ghostface mask and chasing the former. You could tell they were just playing a prank but you didn’t see how anyone could be making fun of the situation right now.

“What is wrong with people?”

“Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Halloween.” Jungkook threw his head back and laughed.

“Stupidity leak!” Haena berated him, whacking him in the head with her notebook.

You shook your head at him, deciding to just ignore his comment. “Have you guys seen Taehyung around?”

“You mean after you gave him blue balls? No, his heart’s broken.”

“Jungkook,” Haena elbowed him hard, causing him to grunt.

“He said that?” You were shocked that even Jungkook knew about your lack of a sex life but should have known that boys would talk just like girls did.

“Of course he did. The guy’s crazy about you.”

“What guy’s crazy about her?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Taehyung leaned over you from behind to kiss the top of your head, causing your heart to do a flip.

“Keanu Reeves, of course.” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Haena at her swift coverup, causing her to give you a wink.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Taehyung whispered in your ear and held your hand as he pulled you out of your chair. Haena ignored Jungkook trying to get her attention as she watched you follow your boyfriend to a more secluded area.

“I’m really sorry about what I said before - it was way out of line. I’ve been a little out of sorts lately with everything going on.” He sounded vulnerable as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart tug at his remorseful face. He had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. “I just want us to be okay again. I want my girlfriend back.”

“I’m still your girlfriend,” You rolled your eyes playfully, squeezing his hand in yours. “But I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel insecure. I know I’ve been acting different for a while and it wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just haven’t been dealing with my trauma very well.”

“That’s not your fault. You don’t need to feel bad about how you grieve.” He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, a soft expression on his face.

“I haven’t been grieving at all - that’s the problem. It’s like my emotions have been shut off.” You sighed, shutting your eyes as his hand moved to caress your cheek. “I can’t keep hiding in my room forever. I need to move on.”

When you opened your eyes again, Taehyung was watching you carefully with his mouth pressed shut. You wished you could read his mind. There was more you wanted to say but you found it hard to find the words, so you decided to let your actions speak by leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

You could tell he hadn’t expected you to make the move by the way he froze but he quickly recovered, pulling you closer with his arms settling around your waist. You pressed yourself to him as he leaned against the bookshelf. This was the most hot and heavy you had ever been in public and you could tell he was enjoying it, not wanting to part from you for even a second.

When you did eventually pull away, you felt brave enough to ask, “Will you meet me at my house later?”

You felt him tense up in shock yet again but couldn’t see his face as you were leaning on his chest. You dared to look up and see him looking at you with wide eyes.

“I thought you wanted to stay at Haena’s.”

“I changed my mind.” You shrugged, feeling giddy as his face lit up. “You’ll protect me from any bad guys, right?”

He pulled you in again, wrapping his arms around you tightly and resting his chin on the crown of your head. You had never felt safer.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Taehyung has always been careful and thoughtful about how he treated you. His touches were gentle and soft; you couldn’t imagine him hurting a fly. Maybe it was just his artsy persona but you had always known him to be a deep, considerate person. He was meticulous about every detail, whether it was his art or his life. Sometimes it seemed like he truly believed life was art; a painting that was ever-changing and inspiring.

You were a masterpiece in his eyes. Something to be cherished and never tarnished. That was why he wanted to keep you safe from the evil in the world. He knew that life had already not been fair to you. But he believed it was his job to prevent any further wrongdoings from coming into your life. He wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who would even try to cause you harm.

It was when you were laid out on your bed looking like an angel, Taehyung felt like he was truly going to Hell. Surely God was coming for him because he had stolen an angel and kept her all to himself. You had given yourself up to him and you didn’t know it yet but he would never let you go. How could he?

The only word to describe it was heaven. Having you in his arms like this, touching parts of you his hands had never dared to before - it was pure bliss. He wanted to stay like this forever. There was nothing out there for either of you. Everything you both needed was right here, in each other’s arms.

He had lost count of how many times he made you come undone before he had even entered you. This wasn’t his first time but it may as well have been with the way he struggled to not fall apart almost immediately. You were his weakness and at the same time you were the only thing keeping him together most of the time. He didn’t care how old you both were - you were it for him.

You had always imagined your first time would be like a dream, full of romantic candles and roses. The reality of it was much different, more natural, and yet you found it to be better than you could have ever imagined. You felt like one of Taehyung’s paintings as his lips and fingertips caressed you everywhere, molding you into one of his perfect creations. You were his muse and you had never felt so beautiful.

It was a night of passion and love; the perfect embodiment of your relationship. Whatever rocky period you had been going through before was long gone and you almost couldn’t believe you had ever wanted to delay this. This was where you needed to be. You knew you probably sounded like a naive teenager, but you didn’t want to think of anyone else in this way ever. You only wanted Taehyung.

“I’ll always love you, YN. I’ll never leave you.”

*****

The next day, you were on your way to your locker when you spied Haena waiting for you. You tried to act indifferent to Haena’s wide eyes looking you up and down as you approached her. It was as if she was trying to find some kind of visible evidence on you.

“So?” You knew she wanted to know what happened last night, but you weren’t ready to spill so soon.

“So... what?” You acted ignorant as you opened up your locker, reaching for your math textbook.

“Oh come on, I’m dying here! Spill.”

“Okay, okay.” Laughter bursted out of you, your resolve crumbling before you could even try to build it up. “We, uh... did it.”

“More details, please.” She rolled her eyes at your vagueness.

“It was really sweet. He made us a nice dinner and then we...” You cringed, not knowing how to talk about it without sounding corny. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Well, did it hurt? Did you come?” You nodded to both questions honestly and her eyebrows raised as she became more intrigued. “How many times?”

When she saw you counting on your fingers higher and higher, she blew a low whistle. “God damn. Good for you, girl.”

“I feel like he set the bar pretty high. Is it always like this or is he just really talented?”

“Well, it depends. Jungkook is usually pretty good but sometimes he’s too drunk or lazy and then I end up doing most of the work myself.”

You pursed your lips in thought, “Doesn’t he go down on you before?”

Her eyes widened as she opened her mouth in shock, “Can I borrow him?”

You smacked her on the arm as she laughed, linking arms with you as you both made your way to class.

“Oh, by the way, Jungkook’s having a party at his house later.” She mentioned nonchalantly as she popped her gum in her mouth.

“What about curfew?”

She shrugged, “I don’t think they’re being too strict about it. It’s probably safer that we’re all together anyway.”

You still looked convinced, so she added, “But if you’re really worried, we can just stay over at his place. His parents are out of town.”

“Does your dad know?” You glanced at her curiously.

“God, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “He’s working a night shift so he’ll be busy patrolling. And I’ll just tell my mom we’re staying at yours.”

“Okay. We can go.”

“Yeah?” She looked surprised, a bright smile painting her face. It was infectious as you found yourself smiling back at her and nodding. She bumped shoulders with you, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned in, “Hmm, I like the new you. She’s fun.”

You were surprised how easy it was for you to agree to the party. Maybe last night gave you more confidence to just live a little. All you knew was the old you would have opted to stay at Haena’s for another night in and you didn’t want to be stuck in your old ways. You owed it to yourself and everyone you loved to move on.

You had foolishly fallen into a sense of false security, not necessarily forgetting about the horrors your town had been cursed with but just for once not having it in the forefront of your mind. You had felt closer to your boyfriend than ever before and now you were ready to be more adventurous. It wasn’t until later in the day did that bubble of excitement pop.

When the classroom door opened to reveal Sheriff Lee, the students around you immediately began whispering to each other conspiringly. You wondered what it could be this time around as he whispered something to the teacher before turning back to face front with a serious expression. Your teacher’s eyes landed on you as she waved her hand, “YN.”

Everyone around you hushed as you gathered your things with shaking hands, making your way to the front of the room quickly. The air out in the hallway felt different, less suffocating. It somewhat helped your rising anxiety.

One look at Sheriff Lee gave you a new perspective of this man who had practically raised you. He wasn’t that old, only early 50s, but the stress he had put under with his profession had aged him. He had tired bags under his eyes, worry lines on his forehead, and sprouting grays here and there. He had always been handsome and you could tell he would continue to age like wine. But that didn’t change how sad it made you to see him in this state.

“YN, I’m afraid I have some bad news. There was a report of a car that wrecked on the side of the road just outside of town.” He spoke slowly as he relayed the information, the consideration from him not lost on you. You were trying to process it all while still not understanding why he was telling you this. “It was your dad’s car.”

Your heart stopped as you clutched your school bag in your hand. Thoughts were going wild in your head as your breathing became erratic. You didn’t know what any of this meant.

“What, um... is he dead?” Your tongue felt disconnected like your brain was just on autopilot.

“No one has seen him yet.” He sighed, a deep frown etched across his features. “I know you said he was leaving for a work trip but have you spoken to him at all since he left?”

He was aware that your father wasn’t known for contacting you at times like these, but you understood he still had to ask. “No. The last time I saw him was the night before he left.”

He nodded as if he expected that, giving you a small smile. “Well, we’ll keep looking. In the meantime, I want you to stay out of your house in case there are any clues to where he could have gone. And it’s probably safer that you’re not alone right now.”

“Okay.”

It seemed like he wanted to say more but clearly was out of his depth when it came to comforting someone. It wasn’t like he could make any promises about finding your dad because the truth was he was most likely gone. You had dealt with enough loss that you knew this feeling well. You gave him a matching small smile, albeit weak but you hoped it would appear encouraging.

“Thank you, Sheriff Lee.”

*****

School ended early that day, mostly due to the fact that half the staff had called out in fear of receiving the same fate as Principal Choi. It was strange that they even had anyone come in at all but you figured the police had already suspected the killer was at the school, thus being their best bet at finding them. Everyone was on edge as if Ghostface was still lurking in its shadows. Which technically, he probably was.

You had already started to go through in your mind which students in your school could have done it. There were a few stronger girls in your class who could have had the physical power to do it, but they were all too nice or non confrontational. There were plenty of bully-like guys that could fit the description, but you had a hard time truly seeing any of your classmates being involved in such gruesome scenes. It’s just that all the victims had one thing in common: the high school. It only made sense that all suspicion would be pointed here.

Eventually, you gave up trying to figure it out because you were only going in circles in your head. The police would figure it out. Tonight was supposed to be fun and you were sure the killer wouldn’t be brave enough to attack a whole group of teenagers. There was strength in numbers and you felt safer this way.

As you and Haena made your way up the driveway, music could be heard blasting from inside. You weren’t even that late but it seems the party was already in full swing. There were a dozen football players and cheerleaders lounging in the main room when you walked in, most of them unknown to you. Haena greeted a few people in the hallway and you followed her into the kitchen as she searched for some refreshments.

“It’s about time you guys showed up,” Jungkook yelled from where he was standing by the snack table.

“I see you guys couldn’t wait to get started,” Haena eyed where Hobi was pouring beer down a funnel into Jin’s mouth.

“Well no one told you guys to arrive fashionably late,” Hobi replied, high-fiving Jin before switching places with him. Haena rolled her eyes, moving on to talk to Jungkook on the other side of the room.

“Hey, have you guys seen Taehyung?” You asked, leaning against the countertop island.

“He was in here earlier. I think he said something about going outside for a smoke,” Jin informed, not taking his eyes off where he was pouring.

You briefly wondered how you had missed him if you had just come from the outside but shrugged it off. He had to be around here somewhere. You ventured out into the main room and plopped down on the couch. The music had been turned down a bit as they were going back and forth trying to decide what movie to watch. For some reason, the genre they had settled on was horror which was in poor taste in your opinion. At least it was entertaining to hear them argue about who usually survives in a horror movie.

A hand on your shoulder startled you, looking up to see Hobi standing there with the telephone. “Phone for you.”

You held in your confusion as you got up to take the call in a quieter area. “Hello?”

“YN, it’s Namjoon.” Of all people who could be calling you, he was probably the last one you would suspect. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t heard yet.” He sighed and your heart thudded in your chest, unable to speak as you willed him to continue. “Sheriff Lee’s dead. They found him strung up on one of the field goals in the football field.”

You almost dropped the phone, a stuttered gasp being the only sound you could make for a moment.

“Oh god,” you finally spoke, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Is Haena with you?” He asked quickly, trying to distract you.

“Yes.” Swallowing, you covered your other ear as the voices in the main room started getting louder. How were you supposed to tell everyone? You were surprised you were even still standing.

“Stay with her. If I were you, I wouldn’t leave that house. ”

You were still so in shock from the news about your Haena’s father that it suddenly dawned on you that he had figured out where you were without you ever telling him.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Someone reported a large gathering of students at the Jeon house on the scanner. I had a feeling you would be there.” His answer was a shock to you, not expecting anyone to know about the party as it was out on the edge of town.

“O-okay, I better go warn everyone...”

“YN?” You held in your breath as you waited for him to continue, unease crawling into your system at his pause. “Be careful.”

For him to sound so concerned for you only heightened your paranoia, quickly walking back into the main room where everyone was. Jungkook was sprawled out on the couch now along with Jin and Hobi, throwing his head back at something the latter had said. You shakily placed the phone back on the stand.

“Jungkook, I need to talk to you.” You were surprised your voice was so steady, his big eyes meeting yours as he took in your expression.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He joked, standing up to meet you behind the couch.

“Kim Namjoon just called me,” You felt your stomach flip as you held the back of the couch for support. “Sheriff Lee was murdered.”

You had tried to be discreet about it but your shock must have garnered enough attention, gasps sounding around the room as they all picked up on what you had revealed.

“Holy shit, I’m getting out of here.”

There was a chorus of responses as people started to make themselves scarce, clearly not in the mood for a party anymore. The only ones that stayed were Hobi and Jin, either not concerned enough about the killer or not brave enough to leave the house. You weren’t sure which group you belonged to but you knew you had to find Haena. You looked up at Jungkook, who was staring at the carpet with a serious expression on his face and biting his lip.

“Where’s Haena?” It was like he almost didn’t hear you until you shook his shoulder. “Jungkook?”

“Um, she went to get more beer-” He blinked a few times, waving his arm behind him. “Garage.”

You walked quickly around the house, trying to find the correct door to the garage. When you finally did, it was pitch black save for some light coming in from the opened garage door. You almost turned back as it was clear there was no one in here before something made you stop. There was no noise, no movement but you felt like something was in here.

Your hand sought out the light, switching it on and blinking as it flicked a few times before brightening up the room. Your gaze flitted around, almost giving up before you saw something dark and red that made you flinch backwards.

There was a piercing scream and you felt the ground beneath you move, your ass hitting the wooden step hard. It wasn’t long before thundering steps came behind you, stopping as they hit your back. Your ears, seemingly filled with water with how muted everything seemed, caught a few more gasps and screams. Hands gripped you under your armpits, pulling you up over the steps and back into the hallway.

After that, everything was a blur of commotion. You were vaguely aware of people yelling around you but it wasn’t until Hobi crouched down, waving his hand in front of your face that you felt alert again.

“I think she’s in shock,” He relayed to the others.

“YN?” Taehyung’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway, his expression bewildered as he approached quickly. “I heard screaming.”

“Jesus, where have you been Tae?” Jin asked.

“Having a smoke,” Hobi moved out of the way so Taehyung could kneel before you, bringing his hands to your cheeks and analyzing your face closely. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Haena...”

“Go find Jungkook,” Tae instructed the older two.

Hobi groaned, “Why do we have to keep splitting up? This is what the killer wants!”

Jin smacked him behind his head, angling his head towards your shell shocked figure. “Shut up, would you?”

The two of them walked off, bickering quietly as they went. Taehyung sat with you silently as you stayed in the same position, wiping away any tears that escaped. You stared at the floor as your mind raced with a million thoughts, not a single one sticking long enough for you to linger on.

How could this happen so fast? You had just seen Haena in the kitchen talking to Jungkook. Everything was fine. You couldn’t have been gone from her for more than thirty minutes and yet so much had changed. It didn’t make any sense.

First Sheriff Lee, now Haena. The killer was getting closer. No, the killer was already here. It couldn’t have been Jungkook, Hobi, or Jin. They had all been with you.

But...

“Taehyung?” He looked up at you, surprised to hear your voice finally. He leaned in, reaching a hand out to brush your hair back but you shied away. He reared back in shock, his expression confused as he met your suspicious one.

“What?”

“You were... smoking? For thirty minutes?” Your voice was unsure as you questioned him, sounding stuffed up from all the crying.

“Yes, wh-” The sound of screaming from outside interrupted him. You shot up from your spot, running towards the front door where it came from. “Wait, YN! Don’t!”

You ignored him as you threw open the door; you needed to stop any more evil from happening. You had already lost so much in your life. Enough was enough.

The sight of Hobi’s bloody body laying on the front steps had you freezing in your tracks, feeling Taehyung’s chest collide with your back a moment later. The two of you stared in shock before you became aware of the violent tussle happening further out in the yard. It was hard to make it out but it looked like Jungkook and Jin were fighting. What the hell had happened? You were guessing this was Jungkook’s fight-or-flight response to finding out about Haena.

“Stay right here,” Taehyung spoke softly to you as he brushed past you, walking around Hobi’s battered body and approaching the two other boys with a calmness you didn’t quite understand.

The further he went out, the harder it was to make out who was who especially as they moved between bushes and trees. You felt anxious and stupid as you just stood there, your feet itching to move out and help them but not knowing if it was a smart idea.

“YN,” A voice coughed out from below you, a gasp escaping as you fell to your knees where Hobi was laying. You had been so distracted by the fight that you almost forgot he was there.

“What happened?” You asked urgently, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing.

He choked a bit, blood spraying out onto his lips and neck. “Don’t trust them.” He gave your hand one last squeeze, meeting your eyes as if to make the message stronger. You watched in concern as he closed his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was still alive but he wasn’t doing well. He needed medical care immediately.

“YN! Get inside now!” Your head flew up to see Taehyung underneath Jin, the two of them fighting over something shiny and sharp-looking between them as what looked like Jungkook was passed out next to them.

Your gaze flew back and forth from them to Hobi’s unconscious face, trying to figure out who to believe. You took a deep breath and ran back inside, locking the door behind you as you ran for the phone. You hit redial, hoping it would direct you to Namjoon. You never thought you could ever cry with relief at hearing his voice.

“YN? Are you okay?”

“Namjoon, tell the police the boys must have snapped or something, I don’t know. But Haena’s dead and we need help.” The words flew out of you so fast you weren’t even sure what all you said, hoping you got the message across as you huffed.

The line went silent at that, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. But there was nothing - just dead air.

“Hello? Namjoon?” You tried again, pulling the phone away before you realized the line was dead. Someone had cut the lines. “Shit.”

Just then, a sudden banging could be heard from the front door followed by desperate shouts of your name. You ran over to it, ready to unlock the door when you hesitated with your hand on the lock.

“Who’s there?”

“YN, let me in! Hurry!” The urgency in Jin’s voice made you throw open the door, gasping when you saw him covered in blood with a knife in his hand.

“Jin, what-”

“Don’t let him in, YN! He attacked me!” Jungkook suddenly appeared behind him, a deep cut on his cheek that hadn’t been there before.

You looked between Jungkook and Jin, trying to decipher who to believe but not finding any conclusive evidence. To be honest, when you saw them out in the yard before, it was hard to tell who had even started the fight. And now seeing them both with blood on them, you felt at a loss. All you knew was people were dying and someone had cut the phone lines. You didn’t know who you could trust.

“Fuck, I can’t.” You slammed the door as quickly as you could, locking it again. The banging and shouting continued.

“Help me! He’s gone crazy!”

You stood there for a few moments, palms still on the door as you willed your racing heart to calm down. Tonight had been nonstop crazy and you couldn’t remember the last time it was at a resting rate. Before you could turn around, a pair of hands landed on your shoulders and ruined any chance of your heartbeat slowing down any time soon. You shrieked as you turned around, not expecting to see Taehyung standing behind you.

“Shh, it’s just me.” He shushed you, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you down.

“Wh- how did you get in here?” You hadn’t seen him outside just now.

“I came in through the back. Are you okay?” He checked over your body, fingers brushing over the visible skin on your face and arms.

“I’m fine but Tae, where have you been all night?” Your exasperated tone caught him off guard, a somber look coating his features as he regarded you. “I’m getting really freaked out.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run off like that. I’ve just been trying to protect you.” His words didn’t make any sense but you weren’t thinking clearly enough to dissect what he meant.

The banging grew louder and Taehyung moved to open it. The roles were reversed this time as you shook your head at him, silently urging him not to let anyone in. Your fingers gripped the sleeve of his sweater anxiously. He turned to look at you, his hand coming up to cover yours on his arm.

“It’s okay. You can trust me.” He nodded at you with a small smile, and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The door swung open to reveal Jungkook standing there looking out of breath, but his face lit up when he saw you standing there with Taehyung. A grin broke out across his face, “The gang’s all here!”

You could only watch in confusion as Jungkook stepped in in the same move that Taehyung backed you up with him. Jungkook shut the door behind him looking gleeful as ever. You looked at Taehyung who had a serious look on his face but you recognized a glint of something in his eye, almost like he had just won a bet or something.

“What’s going on?” You asked, stepping back cautiously from them. The energy had changed drastically and you didn’t like it one bit.

Taehyung eyed you like you were a scared animal, holding his hands out as if to placate you. His gaze was locked on yours and you almost felt like he could read your thoughts, anticipating your next move before you could even do it.

“Surprise, YN.” Jungkook smirked at you, looking far too elated right now to have just lost his girlfriend.

Your eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them before you spun around, racing toward the kitchen to find something you could defend yourself with. Although you had no proof, you knew it was them. Taehyung and Jungkook were the killers. You didn’t have time to feel heartbroken and betrayed. Your only thought right now was survival.

Before you could get far, arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you back towards a firm chest. You eyed the knife block longingly - so close. Taehyung held you tightly to his front, turning the two of you around so you were backed up against the counter. Jungkook leered from across the room looking like a dangerous predator.

“Why are you doing this?” You cried, hot tears streaming down your face.

“I already told you. I’m protecting you.” Taehyung explained as if it was the most obvious thing.

“By killing all my family and friends? You’re fucking crazy!” Your voice grew louder, unable to feel shy about getting angry despite being caught in a murderer’s arms.

Taehyung was a murder. Your soft, loving, artsy boyfriend was a cold-blooded killer. This was a nightmare; this couldn’t be real.

“Yes, I am crazy, but only for you. I would do anything for you, YN.”

“You’ll never get away with this.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Tell that to Min Yoongi. You wouldn’t believe how easy he was to frame.”

“What did you have against my brother?” There was a lot to unpack here but this was the question you had been wondering for a whole year.

“Your brother wasn’t the picture perfect star quarterback everyone believed him to be. He had a bad habit of date raping girls from other schools, including my cousin.” Taehyung answered for you, the lack of eye contact with him making him hard to read if what he was saying was true.

“You’re lying,” You hissed, trying desperately to break out of his arms.

“Why are you defending him? He was never nice to you.” Jungkook reminded you, his eyes calculating and cold. “Face it, YN. Your brother was a bad apple who got what was coming to him.”

“What do you have to gain from this?”

“Well, naturally, I wanted his spot on the team.” He grinned at you, flashing a perfect set of teeth. “It wasn’t hard for Taehyung to convince me once I realized what a piece of shit he was.”

“And Haena?” You glared at Jungkook. “How could you kill your own girlfriend?”

“I can’t take credit for that,” He nodded towards Taehyung behind you and you felt your body go still. “You saw me. I was here the whole night.”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Taehyung added, leaning his head on the space between your shoulder and your neck. “But I won’t lie. I hated sharing her with you all the time.”

“You’re okay with him murdering your girlfriend?”

“I liked Haena but she didn’t get me. She didn’t get you either.” Jungkook approached the two of you slowly, dark gaze zeroed in on your anguished expression. He reached out to caress your face, causing you to tense up as Taehyung straightened behind you. “You’re too good for her.”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s voice was rough as he motioned with his head towards another part of the kitchen. The two shared some sort of unspoken communication as something dawned on the other boy.

“Oh yeah! We got a surprise for you, YN.” Jungkook’s voice grew louder and more excited as he walked towards the hallway closet door. “You’re gonna love this. It’s a scream, baby.”

It didn’t take him long to retrieve what he was looking for, your eyes almost bulging out of your head as you saw who it was. “Dad!” He was tied up with tape around his mouth and a nasty cut on his forehead.

“See, YN? We got it all figured out, don’t worry.” Jungkook began, pulling the knife from his pants and stuffing it in your dad’s belt. “The cops are already onto him and now the evidence is all over him. Just one more thing to do.”

Leaving you no time to react, Jungkook pulled a gun from behind his pants and aimed it right at your father’s head, shooting him dead. You couldn’t help the scream that tore out of your lungs. You felt cold all over, like your body had disconnected from your brain. Vaguely, you registered Taehyung’s arms holding you steady as your knees buckled.

“He deserved it, YN.” Taehyung spoke so plainly about the murder of your father like it was just a harmless prank he had pulled, “He didn’t appreciate what he had. Deep down, we all know he blamed you for being the one that survived. He never loved you the way a father should.”

The harsh reality of his words hurt. It was like he was looking into your soul, into your deepest darkest feelings that you had tried to keep down for so long.

“We did you a favor.” Jungkook added, his dark stare penetrating you where you stood behind the kitchen island. “And he makes the perfect suspect, triggered by your brothers’ death anniversary, then goes on a killing spree and finally kills himself with the sheriff’s gun. It’s like it was meant to be.”

These two were insane, no doubt about it. They had seen too many scary movies and now they felt like they were invincible. You could practically feel the adrenaline running through Taehyung’s veins.

“And now what? I’m next?”

“Of course not,” Taehyung laughed, switching you around so that he cornered you into the kitchen counter. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring your deep cringe. “This has all been for you, baby.”

“Now, we finish what we started.”

Faster than you could blink, Taehyung swung at Jungkook, causing him to keel over. Red started pooling through the side of his shirt as he coughed into his hand, staining it with blood. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Tae, what the fuck?” Jungkook grunted, holding his side as he looked up at Taehyung in shock.

“I changed my mind. I don’t need a sidekick anymore.” Taehyung sneered, a venomous look on his face. “Thanks for all the help, buddy.”

Jungkook fell to the kitchen floor and Taehyung moved on top of him, stabbing him a few more times for good measure. In his bloodlust frenzy, he failed to notice that he had turned his back on you. Not only that, but the gun in Jungkook’s hand was now within reach of you.

You wasted no time in falling to your knees to grab it, quickly standing up and aiming it at the back of his head. Taehyung froze, still not facing you but somehow already figuring out his mistake. It was a foolish move on his part but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“Don’t move.” You spoke clearly, trying to keep your hand steady.

He didn’t listen to you though, moving slowly and carefully as he got off of Jungkook. He turned around with his hands raised, eyes wide as he stared at you. “YN, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I said don’t move!” You yelled, your fingers trembling. You had never even held a gun before and now here you were aiming it at the love of your life.

“I know you don’t understand right now but you have to know: I did it all for you. So that we could be closer. I never meant to hurt you.” The sight of him inching further set you off, giving you the motivation you needed to pull the trigger.

“Goodbye, Taehyung.” You closed your eyes, not wanting to see the image of the light draining from his eyes.

It was over.

*****

Months later, you were relieved to find that life had seemed to calm down after that horrible night full of evil and bloodshed. You had suffered and lost so many people you loved. Much like a year before, only this time you felt somewhat hopeful for the future. Death couldn’t follow you around anymore like a bad curse; the evil was dead and gone from your life. It was the only thing keeping you going.

That and having a positive influence in your life, like for example Namjoon. He was the first to find you there at the Jeon house after getting your phone call but never receiving your message due to the phones being tampered with. You were lying on the kitchen floor, covered in blood and still in shock over everything. He had been so helpful, urging you to call 911 on his cell phone while he checked to see if Hobi and Jin were still somehow alive - which by some miracle, they were. They had sustained serious injuries and were lucky to be alive, each spending quite some time in the hospital and then physical therapy after that. You visited them almost every day.

It had been hard, dealing with the survivor’s guilt. Losing your entire family, best friend, and boyfriend (even though he had been the cause of it all) had done some serious damage to your mental health. And despite all the therapy you had been receiving and would continue to receive, you knew it would never completely be healed. But that was okay. In your mind, you deserved some kind of scar from the whole ordeal since you hadn’t suffered any physical injuries. Several of your friends were dead or badly hurt - you could deal with it if not for yourself, then for them.

The best part about it was being able to exonerate Yoongi. To finally be able to see some emotion from him on the day the judge ruled him not guilty had been life changing. Yoongi had always been such a calm guy and never blamed you for the year of his life wasted behind bars. You wanted desperately to make it up for him but didn’t know how you possibly could. Namjoon assured you that you had done enough but the guilt never seemed to go away.

Namjoon and you had started to develop more of a friendly relationship, something you had never expected to come out of this. But after all the conflict was gone, it was much easier to see each other’s point of view. And the truth was, he had always been right.

“Got any plans this weekend?” Namjoon asked as he poured some sugar into his coffee before taking a sip.

“Not sure,” you began, taking a breath as you thought it over. “I got invited to an end-of-year party but I’m not sure if I should go. Feels too soon.”

“Oh, you should definitely go. It’s not as soon as you think.” He responded encouragingly, sounding like a big brother.

“I just don’t see what there’s to celebrate about.” You shrugged, meeting his gaze.

“There’s plenty to celebrate! How about surviving a tragic murder spree, exonerating an innocent man, finishing up a school year?” You didn’t look convinced, so he tried again, “Come on, I think it would be good for you to get out. You shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself all the time.”

“You sound like my therapist.” You rolled your eyes at him, stirring the tea in your cup mindlessly.

“Well, you sound like a petulant child.” He chuckled.

You opened your mouth to retort, eyes flying up to look at him when something in the distance caught your eye. Your body felt cold, frozen up as you stared at the familiar figure. Dark black mop of hair covered his face, baggy sweater and jeans on his frame. You blinked a few times but he didn’t move at all. It didn’t make any sense.

“YN? What is it?” Namjoon waved a hand in your face, distracting you from whatever it was you just saw.

“Huh?” You asked, blinking at Namjoon before glancing back at where he stood before. Only now, there was nobody in sight. You cleared your throat as your gaze fell back on the man before you, “Uh, nothing.”

“You looked like you saw a ghost.” He laughed, eyebrows furrowing at you in a concerned manner.

“Yeah, right.” You shook your head. There was no such thing.

I’ll always love you, YN. I’ll never leave you.

*****

A/N: i'm baaaack! ngl i'm proud of myself for getting this one done bc it was a whopper. i really hoped you liked it! scream is one of my fave scary movies so i've always wanted to make an AU for it. ty for reading and pls lmk what you think!!

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queenimmadolla · 9 months

Note

srry if this has been asked before !

how did eddie & reader tell penny they were expecting? and how did she react ?

glad you asked because now i get to post this early!

° 　. ● . ★ ° . *　　　° * 　.　 :　　:●. 　 *° :●. 　 * .　 * 　.　　 ˚ *.　　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 . · 　　 ⋆ ˚ ˚ 　　 ✦⋆ · 　 *⋆ ✧　　 · 　 ✧　✵　　. 　★ ° . *

(dad!eddie munson x mom!pregnant!reader)

more of your family here.

Summary: . . . You and Eddie tell your toddler she's going to be a big sister.

warnings: penny being penny, it's fluff.

It wasn’t ideal. Not necessarily something you were vehemently against, since you were obviously going through with it, but not worth sobbing over.

Eddie had knocked you up. Again.

Penny wasn’t even three years old yet, and you’d ended up with yet another bun in the oven—as you’d discovered two weeks ago.

Luckily, you weren’t as far along as you had been when you found out you were pregnant with Penny, so you’d have more time to plan and come to terms with it. And your hormones weren’t out of whack yet.

Last week had technically been the end of your first trimester, so you were pretty much in the clear to start telling people—though most of your friend group already knew because despite feeling a little overwhelmed, Eddie took great pride in his ability to strike twice.

You were sure he had some sort of breeding kink, and it definitely didn’t help that you let him raw dog you every single time. As soon as you popped this one out, that would be coming to an end. Until then, he was keen on having his fill—or rather keen on filling you.

The only person in your life who didn’t know you were expecting was your toddler. If the conversation didn’t involve a word she wasn’t supposed to say, Penny wasn’t paying attention.

You and Eddie had tried to come up with ways to tell her, but you’d both been fumbling with ideas. Mostly because you had no idea how she’d react.

Penny only interacted with a few kids her age at the park, mostly older children and sometimes she’d see a baby, point at it and say ‘baby’, but that was about it. She’d do the same when she saw the gerber baby commercials and she thought the babies on her cartoons were cute, but that was the most she’d interacted with one.

Penny was also aware of the existence of siblings, saw them depicted in her cartoons but never approached you and Eddie in regards to why she didn’t have one or wanting one (which you had been grateful about). But she was only two. Which meant she probably didn’t care.

Or that she didn’t want one.

That’s what you and Eddie were afraid of.

You’d been thinking about her lack of interactions with babies all day at work when the idea struck you.

It was such an obvious one, too, you knew Eddie would be annoyed that he didn’t think of it sooner.

After work, you swung by the store, secured the bag (and a gift bag) and dipped.

Once you were parked in front of the trailer, you shoved the darling little thing into the gift bag and found yourself surprisingly giddy about the entire idea. You had a really good feeling about this.

Eddie had already picked Penny up from Maude and Wayne, and you found him lifting her up and rocketing her around the room, making swoosh sound effects while she laughed her cute little diaper-covered butt off.

It was music to your ears.

“Look! Mommy’s home!” Eddie lowered her, turning her so she was facing your direction.

Her big brown eyes lit up, smile widening as she reached for you.

“Mama!”

“Hi, baby!” You greeted her as Eddie repositioned her over his hip. She leaned forward, lips comically pursed and ready for a kiss. Penny saw you and Eddie kiss each other goodbye and witnessed your welcome kisses, so she also demanded kisses, which you were happy to give her. At one point, she didn’t want you giving Eddie any kisses because she thought they were all hers so you were happy she was willing to share.

You gave her an innocent little smooch, and pressed big smacking ones to both her cheeks.

“And hello to you, too.” You reached a hand up to hook on the back of Eddie’s neck as you leaned up and he leaned down, lips meeting in a kiss you knew he wanted to deepen—and would have, had it not been for the toddler in his arms.

“Hi, honey.” He gave you a goofy grin, before jutting his chin down towards the shiny pink bag in your hand, “What’cha got there?”

“Put her on the couch, I’ll show you.”

“Is it for me or is it for her?” Eddie tapped at his chest before gently pinching and wiggling Penny’s nose as you both moved over to the couch. “‘Cause, I’m hoping it’s for me. No offense, kid.”

Her pudgy little hands flew up to swipe at her dad’s before he set her down on the cushions. Penny was still all smiles, but since Eddie had brought the gift to her attention, she couldn’t focus on anything else, stare honed in on the pink bag.

You squatted to be eye level with her and reached your hand out to tickle Penny’s tummy. She giggled, tongue between her teeth as she moved her hands to try to shield her tummy from you.

“I’ve brought you a gift.” You held the bag up by the strings, the bottom of it supported by your other palm.

“Wazzit?”

“It’s a crystal, nothing more—I’m kidding. Open it, baby.”

You placed it in her grabby hands, the bag was half her size so she had to dump it on its side and practically climb inside to pull out the clear, plastic box. Her little gasp was a dramatic one.

“‘S uh baby, mommy! Uh baby!”

Penny marveled at the baby doll in her hands, mouth and eyes wide open.

“Show daddy!”

Penny turned the clear box around—dropping it in her lap once—to showcase the plastic baby inside.

Eddie’s gasp was purposely more dramatic than Penny’s had been, “Is that a baby?!”

“Yah!”

Eddie chuckled, holding a hand out, “You want me to open it for you?”

“Yes.”

Eddie struggled with the packaging for a good five minutes, muttering unintelligible words under his breath before he finally got the doll out and released it from its bindings.

Penny clutched it to her chest in a deathly tight hug and your heart warmed to see her so happy. Penny had yet to be introduced to dolls, all she ever played with was blocks and stuffed animals—you and Eddie avoided taking her to the toy aisle, you because you were afraid she’d want something she was too small for and Eddie because he feared she’d want something with too many choking hazard pieces.

“I haz uh baby!” She proclaimed, eyes squeezing shut with the force of her smile.

“You know, Penny…I have a baby, too.” You confessed, reaching a hand out to stroke over her curls.

“I yuh baby!” She giggled

You and Eddie both chuckled, and he squatted down to join you. He’d finally caught on to what you were up to, and you were right, he was a little miffed he hadn’t thought of this earlier, considering Penny often had him feed her stuffed animals a bottle.

“You are our baby,” Eddie agreed, “but mama has another baby.”

“Daddy, Penny yuh baby! Penny mommy’s baby.” She tried again, probably wondering why her mommy and daddy didn’t understand that she was the baby.

“Penny is—you are a baby,” you always had to catch yourself. Penny had a habit of usually referring to herself in third person because she heard you and Eddie talk about her and thought she had to refer to herself in the same way, “I’m just gonna have another baby and you.”

Penny’s grip on the baby doll loosened, head tilting with confusion written all over her cute little face. “Huh?”

“You remember the babies in the strollers at the park?” You asked, palm scooping up one of her little hands. She curled it around your thumb.

“Yes.”

“Mommy and daddy are having one of those.” Eddie finished for you, flashing you a smile with eyes that glittered and oozed his happiness. There was something magical about Eddie. He had the power to make any weariness, any of your lingering nerves just disappear. Melt away. Just with a look.

“You’re gonna be a big sister,” You added, returning your focus to your little girl.

Penny’s gaze darted to the side and you and Eddie held your breath.

Her gaze darted to the other side as she continued to think and Eddie reached for your hand, squeezing. His palm was sweaty.

Finally, she spoke.

“Uhhhhhhhh, wike pieble?” Her head cocked to the side again, unwinding one arm from around her baby doll to scratch at her head and muss up her curls.

She meant Fievel. A little mouse from one of her favorite movies.

“Well, he was the little brother, so you’re more like—what’s her name?”

You turned your head to ask Eddie who readily supplied you with the answer since it was the tape that constantly occupied the VCR. He could quote that movie by now.

“Tanya.”

“Tanya. You’re like Tanya.”

“Aww!!!” Penny went bashful, shoulders lifting up nearly to her ears. “Okie dokie!”

You sighed in relief but Eddie was still practically frozen.

“…That’s it?”

“Huh?”

“You’re just—you’re okay with it? Just like that? No screaming, no crying, no throwing your toys at daddy? You’re just—you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

Eddie blinked, lips pursed before he shrugged and stood up and you rose with him. “Well, okay then! We’re having another baby.”

Penny squealed, shoving her baby doll aside—oh, how fleeting was her favor—to clap her hands, practically bouncing on the cushion.

“Weh my baby?”

“Right there.” Eddie pointed at the baby doll before he pulled you into his arms, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. You were having his baby, again, and his baby girl was fine with it. He’d been expecting one of her tantrums that ended with her spread out on the floor, bashing her fists and kicking her feet against it while she screamed till she was blue in the face but the reality was so much better.

“No, daddy. Not dat.” And to emphasize she wasn’t talking about the doll, Penny lifted her leg, making sure the baby doll was under her foot before she kicked it off the couch. “I wan’ my baby.”

“Jesus, Penny. What have I said about throwing your toys?” He frowned, chin resting on the top of your head while you stayed quiet and nestled against his chest. You weren’t docile or anything, you just wanted him to be the bad guy this time.

Penny ignored him, once more voicing her question with a great amount of exasperation and her hands flailing, “Weh my baby!?”

“Still in my tummy, Penny.” You informed her, hand moving to rest over your lower abdomen. There still wasn’t much change there, but you knew life was growing just beneath your palm.

Eddie wished so damn badly that he had the camera to capture the look on Penny’s face at your statement, her mouth dropped open, eyes wider than he’d ever seen them with a mixture of outrage, horror and disbelief.

“YOU ATED UH BABY?!”

#pennyverse #pennyverse asks #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #dilf!eddie munson #girl dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader

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sepia-stained-sunset · 10 months

Text

Tim should absolutely be the MOST older sibling to ever older sibling to Damian are you kidding me??

They should be bickering over the storyline of some series and Tim should only take an opposing stance to annoy him and he keeps riling Damian up. Someone sneers at them under their breath and says something mean and Tim's eyes darken for a second and he smoothly nerve strikes him.

Damian blinks at him in bafflement and Tim just smiles at him indulgently as he goads him into their argument again.

#tim drake #damian wayne #tim drake headcanon #damian wayne headcanon

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verysium · 5 months

Text

『01』到着: arrival

ft. rin itoshi, sae itoshi

summary: the forces of nature abide by a single law: all cataclysms are creators of their own collapse. in the wake of such destruction, rin tumbles his way down to earth, and along the staircase of heaven, a new star is born. cw: mild swearing, childhood nostalgia and growing pains, rin being embarrassing, social anxiety, sae being somewhat parental, sibling dynamics, kamakura and japanese culture, spanish lessons, very dense prose (cus i suck ass at dialogue), star analogies, orange peels and other fruit metaphors, fluff but bittersweet.

word count: 6.4k

series masterlist || next

The first word Rin learns is star.

It is spoon-fed to him in glittering globules of milk fat, dense and pooling around the gums. Stars are what he senses when rough hands slip around his torso, stuffing the nib of a plastic bottle into his mouth. He is only a week old and can't see yet, but he already knows the set of eyes he is staring into. There are tiny pinpoints of blue-green light, reflective and shiny, a mirror to his own.

The world is blurry but somehow Rin finds his own image. His newborn legs are scrunched inside a wad of cotton blankets, poised and ready to strike. Rin doesn't like being confined, but the four walls of the hospital room offer him no reprieve. He cries and bawls and screams to go back. Only the silence answers.

Rin hates this place. The world out here is a different state of mind: too bright, too loud, too much. Anything and everything has been etched into a single frame, time scorched into untouched skin. It is to the point his senses cannot handle any more.

Every morning the shadows of nurses gorge themselves on daylight, waistlines growing by the minute as they enlarge into his field of vision. They pry at the wires of his crib, brushing off invisible dust as they try so hard to make his heartbeat sync with their incessantly beating machines. His body refuses to obey. They should've known the moment he was born that he'd always be one step behind.

Rin wants to screech his head off again. This time he babbles that the milk tastes like car grease, that he'd rather die free than live in pain, but a firm hand stays the bottle between his lips, insisting on its delicacy. Rin blanches. He isn't hungry. He tries to pull away. But his mother's voice cuts through the silence, a warning.

"Sae-chan, be careful with your brother."

The two-year-old grunts, lips twisted in annoyance as he tries the balancing act of feeding a newborn with one arm. His gaze is ancient, too piercing for a child. Rin's fingers crawl up Sae's face, clumsy and blind as they grope for his nose bridge. There are stars in his older brother's eyes, ones Rin cannot reach no matter how hard he tries.

Rin ends up spilling milk on himself, crying as he drools white rivulets down his chin. If Sae could swear, he most definitely would’ve called Rin an ungrateful little shit. But Rin knows it is an honor to be born where he was. He is a legacy to someone else’s dream, both a spare and a second chance at living. He butters himself up in their nasal tongues, machinating his lips in tandem.

When his brother offers him another drink, his mouth is already open.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It turns out life outside the womb is actually far greater than it was inside. Rin learns that real people walk and talk and grow up to find something called a purpose. He doesn't understand why the adults deem it complicated though. How could something so simple take years to discover? After all, his brother has already figured out his purpose, so why couldn't he?

"Rin-chan, you must find something to do with your life," his grandmother mentions over dinner, smoothing her weathered hands down the locks of his hair. The family is gathered around the table for tea, sitting like a portrait on the zabuton. Rin tries his best to emulate, his three-year-old spine drawn taut with practiced humility.

"Your brother has already paved the way. You can do the same, can’t you Rin-chan?"

Of course he can. Rin's heard these words a thousand times before. Sae isn't called the family's star collector for nothing. His nii-chan has already amassed tens of thousands of these five-pointed shapes, a few of which sit in a glass trophy case Rin isn't allowed to touch. He’s seen this all play out before.

A fortune teller once read their futures, thumbing her way along his brother’s palms as she spilled the very same oracles. Rin still remembers that day clearly: a morning visit to the shrine, the image scattered like water. The torii unfolded like a vermillion tongue, moseying its way down Komachi Street. He had been dressed in his little navy blue hakama, toes tucked politely into his tabi, his round eyes reflecting the world like a fisheye lens. There was much to observe from the hustle and bustle of life. Peculiar squiggly lines danced along the signage of shops. Candied lacquerware displayed themselves behind glass windows. Rin even stopped to point out the goldfish hanging in their crystal bags, giggling when the force of nearby windchimes sent each fish for a tumble. One soba stop and two taiyaki ice creams later, his small feet had grown tired from the hours of excursion, and his mother carried him on her back for the latter half of the trip home.

It was then that he spotted her.

An old lady sat in a booth by the wayside, framed by colorful curtains. His father had told him that she could foresee the future with the mere touch of her hand. Sae had gone first, holding out his palm with assured poise, as if he already knew the outcome. Rin wasn’t surprised when he heard the verdict. The old lady claimed Sae was destined to become the world’s greatest star, to bring glory to the nation of the sun. Rin didn’t doubt it if this was true at the time. His brother’s existence was proof enough. Sae’s certainty was a lesson Rin learned before object permanence, before any preconventional stage of development. Nii-chan is always one way and not the other. He is on track to do something important, and nothing can sway him from it.

That was the first truth Rin learned of this world.

Even now at the family dinner, he doesn't even need to look to know that his brother is sitting with near perfect posture, the precision of still life running through his veins. Sae is an adult before he is a child, a handcrafted figurehead for the Itoshi name. Rin lifts his chin a little higher, his toddler hands raised in firm conviction.

“I’ll follow Nii-chan! Follow him to the end of the world!”

His grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rin doesn't say anything else, quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn't understand the words she exchanges with his parents, nor does he try to. Adult talk still isn't his strong suit, especially not when it concerns the future. But his mother's eyes shine wet and proud, and his father chuckles more than usual. Rin decides his purpose right then and there.

He wants to be a star too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day after starting kindergarten, Rin shows off his first masterpiece, cradling two sheets of rice paper as he runs up to the front door. By the time the fusuma slides open, he has already uncrumpled his work, dramatically revealing a bold shock of color. It appeared to be some sort of assemblage, painstakingly inked in blue crayon and pieced together with painter's tape.

"That's a pentagon, Rin."

"No, it’s a star! See? 1…2…3…4…5 points! Star!"

Sae isn't amused. Rin does not know why. His brother’s eyes are hardened slats of light, the still water of an abandoned lake. There are no mouths to swallow the light, no twinkling ripples at the surface, not even the gasps of glimmering excitement. There is only the mirrored slate of the sky: one shade of blue bleeding into the next. Rin feels his stomach plummet into its depths. This isn’t the soft look of pride he wanted to see. Not in the slightest.

At first he thinks about crying, his bottom lip already curled with the onslaught of a pathetic sob. But spite unfurls in his lungs, so instead he turns his nose up with huff, trying to seem unaffected. He would be very proud of his star. And it most certainly was not called a pentagon or whatever stupid name Sae learned in his stupid math class. But apparently his older brother always had something else to say.

"Just come here and erase it. I'll show you how to make a proper star."

"But I don't want to! It's my star. It's perfect!"

Rin can hardly utter another word before Sae's glare nearly freezes the living daylights out of him. Nii-chan is scary, especially when angry. He doesn't even have a choice when he sits down at the chabudai, pouting in reluctance. Sae works out his magic on paper, crafting ley lines within the grain of paper. Rin does his best to follow, licking his lips as he guides his crayon through the dotted lines. It gets increasingly difficult though when Sae's hand echoes warmly around his own, gentle but firm in its direction. Rin tries to avoid his brother's eyes, but Sae's kindness is as disarming as his gaze. Had Nii-chan always had that crease between his eyebrows? The slight upturn of his lips when he bit his tongue in concentration?

Rin tries to trace the lines, but he ends up tracing Sae's face instead. His focus isn't even on the paper when he scribbles out a mess of incomplete pentagons, some geometric concatenation he cannot translate into real-time. Sae would have pinched his cheek, scolding him in disappointment.

Sae never did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Rin traces a pentagon, it is on the surface of a black-and-white ball, shot like a meteorite through a football goal. His brother becomes a comet, light on his feet as he thunders down the field, weaving seamlessly between defenders. Rin can only stand on the sidelines, drowned out in his second-hand hoodie, face smushed up against the fence as he tries to get a good view. The team's been at it for hours, and Rin's pretty sure he now has the diamond imprint of chain links burnt into his cheeks.

"Somebody stop him!"

"Get after him!"

"Mark Sae Itoshi!"

There will always be someone up to the challenge of his brother's prowess, but no one ever comes close to toppling him. Rin doesn't think Sae would ever miss a single step, not when he's so far ahead. His brother is strong and calculated, absolutely unwavering in his ascent to the top. The only way Sae Itoshi could ever fall is if he buckled under his own weight, caving into himself.

Rin's eyes follow the reporters as they trail after Sae, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. They were no better than a pack of bloodhounds, desperate for a small taste of his brother's victory. How dare they? His Nii-chan outshined everyone at everything. Rin wasn't the smartest boy, but even he knew that a star could never be caught. They didn't even belong on Earth in the first place.

"Let's go, Rin."

Rin doesn't complain when his brother calls him to return home, oblivious to the media's chagrin. Like Sae, Rin is utterly indifferent to their plight, side-stepping one of the reporters who dry-heaves on his shoes in exhaustion. It was definitely their fault for failing to outrun both an eight-year-old child and his kid brother, let alone try to feast on their glittering remains. If they couldn't catch a star, they ought to eat the dust left behind. After all, that was how the world worked according to Nii-chan.

Only the best could succeed. All the rest would implode with the universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It is the summer before his tenth birthday when Rin takes back every single one of those words. He is that reporter now, completely humiliated and exhausted as he collapses on the sidelines. The afternoon workout had just entirely rearranged his guts, so much so that he's foaming at the mouth, the remnants of his hasty breakfast speckled all over his cleats.

Out of every star in existence, the sun has to be the worst one. A pool of sweat trickles down his back, melting into a sticky discomfort along his nape. It’s too far up his jersey for him to do anything about, and he might just die from the sweltering heat.

Perhaps it was true that sports stars had to suffer in order to burn bright, but Rin would never wish this fate upon anybody. Sae is shouting at him from somewhere outside his periphery, insisting that the sun has never stopped revolving, that Rin has to never stop practicing if he ever plans on keeping up. But at this point, he could care less about a goddamn metaphor, let alone rub two brain cells together to interpret it.

"That shot was shoddy, Rin. Redo it."

"But it's so hot, I can't—”

"It's not hot. It's lukewarm. Redo it."

Sometimes Rin regrets ever thrusting himself into the orbit of his brother’s football dream. Playing on the world stage sounded so much easier in his head back then, but now it might as well have been an impossible fantasy. He most definitely wasn’t cut out for this line of work because his legs feel like shit, his arms feel like shit, and his whole body can’t even breathe under the thick, grimy layer of sweat. Blinking his eyes against the burning salt, Rin curses to himself. He should’ve taken that energy drink from earlier. At least the caffeine would have kept him sane. Sae snaps Rin out of his reverie, his thin voice seeping into Rin’s bones. There’s something softer in his tone this time.

“Suck it up and redo it. I’ll buy you ice cream after practice.”

There is silence. Rin stands back up, wiping his forehead as he stares his brother dead in the eye. The field has never been larger, and the goal has never been closer. And just like that, he is off, powering down the turf.

Under the supermassive gravity of his brother's ambitions, Rin becomes a supernova, his body charged with enough energy to last through entire lifetimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In the oppressive sunlight, Sae's cold stare becomes a welcome sight. Augusts in Kamakura are the products of heat waves, the sun so scorching Rin can see a visible mirage above the asphalt. The heat spares no one, and Rin feels his cargo pants stick to the crease of his thighs. Even Sae’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, unusually slick behind the ears. They had just met Sae’s agent that morning, taking the Yokosuka line back from Tokyo. Sae had even left early, planning to evade the weekend’s tourists. But neither of them ever anticipated the harshness of the afternoon heat. After nearly an hour of searching, their only refuge was this 7-Eleven, some tiny microcosm practically stowed away between two utility poles.

The oba-chan at the konbini greets them with a seasoned smile, chirping with polite bubbliness as she rings up Sae’s Garigari-kun popsicles, a total of 70 yen for the original soda flavor. Rin waits demurely in a corner, eyes drawn to his brother’s silhouette. Some oji-san sits himself down nearby, fanning himself with a newspaper as he twirls a toothpick between his gums.

“Trying to avoid the heat, eh? You and your brother come here often?”

The man looks middle-aged, crowned with an artificial toupée and a cracked tooth. His eyes dart between Rin and Sae, a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“Nii-chan and I just found this place. We don’t come here a lot.”

“Ah. Is that so? You seem awfully young to be shopping without parents. What’s your name?”

Rin doesn’t want to answer. He hates this man already, even more so his strangeness. There’s a disarming nature to his beady eyes, like he knows something Rin doesn’t. Rin looks down at the floor, his sneakers toeing a shy line across the linoleum tiles.

“R-rin.”

“Rin-kun, eh? You must look up to your Nii-chan a lot, huh? Your gaze hasn’t left him since.”

Rin feels his throat close up, cheeks flushing with heat of embarrassment. On second thought, he hates everything about this oji-san now, even down to his obnoxious friendliness. The old man winks, bending down in a conspiratorial whisper. Rin wrinkles his nose at the stale smell of beer, feeling embarrassed for even bothering to converse. This man was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rin secretly hopes no one else is watching him. But unfortunately, the whispers are loud enough to travel across the entire convenience store, right into Sae’s ears.

“Oh-ho? Are you blushing?”

Rin vehemently shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Rin-kun. Your secret is safe for me. You must be your brother’s little shadow, right?” The man pumps his fist out, his voice distorted in a childish imitation. “Nii-chan's number one supporter!”

Rin’s hands ball into fists at the oji-san’s teasing, his ears red to their tips. Sae is looking at him from over the cash register now, a confused look etched onto his face. Rin clenches his teeth in annoyance. Stripped bare of all defenses, he is now analyzed for what he is. Was his admiration that obvious? Did Sae know about his feelings? He didn’t want to be taken for some stupid, awestruck fool. The old man’s question is barely answered before Rin makes a break for it, the bell on the door ringing with his sudden departure.

The road outside swirls in holographic patterns, a dizzying blend of feet and socks and concrete. Rin has to take a moment to steady himself before Sae comes up behind him, armed with a plastic bag of wrappers and blue ice between his teeth. Rin licks his popsicle with caution, burning away his shame as his tongue freeze dries itself to the candied surface. Sae crunches his ice cream in two bites, an amused lilt to his voice.

“What was that back there?”

“N-nothing! I didn’t know him.”

“You’re too shy to talk to strangers?”

“N-no…H-he was just talking to himself.”

Sae gives Rin a weird look, but he doesn’t question further. Instead, his hand reaches down to slap Rin on the back of the head, ruffling the hair there until it somehow resembles a bird’s nest.

“Next time someone asks you something, just answer. Stop acting like a damn coward.”

Rin’s entire face burns with humiliation at that comment. He wishes the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. The last thing he wants to be is the laughingstock of his brother’s dry humor, but the fact that Sae rarely even cracks a joke makes this entire situation much worse. Instead of replying, Rin follows what he does best and rapidly changes the subject. His voice trembles as he stares at his popsicle handle, noting the hiragana carved into plywood. Atari.

“Ah, look. I won a prize.”

Sae’s eyes widen momentarily, pausing in his step as he looks down to check his own stick. Less than a minute later, he grimaces, tossing it away.

“Tch, don’t waste your luck on something so meaningless.”

Rin knows what Sae means. Only becoming the best matters, and with the sparse amount of luck to go around, he might as well spend it on a real victory. The Itoshis can’t afford loss, not that they’d ever know what it was. A foreign emotion flickers through Sae’s eyes, something akin to uncertainty. Rin brushes it off as a trick of the light.

The trek back home is tinged with a golden hue, the sun milder as it cascades rays down both their faces. Sae's appearance has always been unsettling, even in the mellow glow of summer. Rin recalls his mother used to say that Sae inherited all the sharpness in the family. His mother was definitely right. Sae’s nose is too straight, the slant of his brows too unnatural. If Rin took a ruler to his face, every measurement would come back scientifically accurate. Nothing about Sae is soft. Nothing about him should be comforting. But when his brother looks at him, Rin feels someone’s breath brush across his forehead, the skin still warm from the imprint of their lips.

He grips Sae’s hand tighter, knuckles looped between calloused digits. They tread silently, all thoughts of victory forgotten, the coastal breeze whispering their names into air. Rin can’t take his eyes off his brother, and, despite his lack of situational awareness, Sae notices it too.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Back at the store… If it were you, you’d never be afraid to speak up, right?”

“Of course. There’s nothing that I fear.”

Sae’s tone is stiff when he says this, his face tilted towards the horizon. Rin almost misses the slight waver in his voice. His brother does everything to keep his word. At least that much holds true. Rin silently wishes that too would never change.

Sae always looks forward, always stares towards the skyline, always plans for the future. Not once has Rin seen his older brother look fully back at him, let alone pivot toward the direction he once came from. One side of Sae’s face is always hidden, not too dissimilar to the far side of the moon. His Nii-chan might as well be some celestial body, cast under the penumbra of his own eclipse. No one could ever know him in his entirety.

Sae’s eyes must be lonely, Rin ponders. They’re trapped on opposite ends of his face, two stars that could align but never cross. He swears to always remember the constellations in his brother’s eyes.

He'd follow them wherever they took him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sae has his eyes set on Spain: a land of gold, guts, and glory. The streets are somehow more burnt than its people, and the nation itself flickers with twisting tongues. It is also the only place where Rin cannot follow, and he is inconsolable.

Sae hadn’t even given a week’s notice before he broke the news on a Sunday, stating his plans factually over a family dinner. Rin nearly spit out his ochazuke right then and there, choking pitifully on his tea-steeped rice grains. Who in their right mind would willingly travel to a country that sees the sun for nearly three thousand hours a year? Perhaps Sae was immune to all natural phenomena, but Rin would rather die than train in that hellish heat. And most importantly, what was with the sudden announcement? Did his brother not even care about the people he was leaving behind?

He thought about it hard during dinner and even harder when Sae blow-dried his hair that night. They had both stepped out from the tub at the same time, arguing after their shared bath. Rin complained his brother turned the water temperature up too high every time, and Sae pointed out he was dripping water everywhere, the suds still stuck deep in his scalp. Their fingers had been at each other’s hair, clawing and tugging until their mother finally intervened, wrapping Rin up in the family towel as she knelt down to dry him. Rin stood there, an angry flush on his cheeks and his features pulled into a petulant sulk as he observed Sae clean himself with elegant precision, a quiet look on his face. Life at ten and a half was simply unfair. Rin couldn’t wait until he was his brother’s age. Apparently being a teenager meant Nii-chan could have his own towel, a custom gift embroidered with seagulls on the hem. Nii-chan could dry himself without any help from others, no longer needing his mother’s guidance. He could even leave the house if he truly wanted, and no one would come after him. Rin’s scowl deepens, glowering at Sae as his mother forces his little arms up, tugging the pyjamas over his head. In another life, he would’ve admitted that he was envious of Sae’s independence, the sheer effortless grace with which he carried himself. But Rin was too prideful to do that. A confession of his own failures was equivalent to suicide in his book.

The best he can do is bite his tongue, forcing back the angry vitriol that would have otherwise spilled from his lips. His brother stands on a stool behind him, blow-dryer in hand as he ruffles through Rin’s tresses, the nozzle spewing warm air across his forehead. Sae’s fingers are rough and heavy, riddled with calluses underneath, likely from the months of weightlifting and grip training. But as solid as they are, they are also nimble, delicate as bird wings as they gently comb through strands of hair. The hot air massages around his temples, and Rin feels the tender brush of something against his nape. He cannot tell if it was the blow-dryer or the warmth of Sae’s body behind him.

In the end, he decides he does not want to know.

By now, the water droplets have cleared from his skin, his locks rusted from a dark olive to a coarse black. Sae turns the blow-dryer to his own head, tousling his hair as he shakes out the excess moisture. Rin watches silently through the mirror, squeezing a fine line of mint paste down the center of his toothbrush. He chews on the plastic bristles as he contemplates, moving his arm back and forth in a repetitive scrubbing motion. Sae had inherited their mother’s hair and their father’s countenance, his visage a perfect combination of both genetic features. His obaa-san once remarked that the kami had accidentally spilled wine on Sae’s birthday, anointing his head in a rich maroon. In Japan, red is the color of all things joyous, a shade Rin identifies with the uchikake at weddings and the rope decorations his parents pin onto doors for good luck. But to be associated with joy, Rin finds that fact highly ironic. He has never seen Sae express any semblance of happiness before, except maybe the occasional grimace he tries to pass off as a smile.

Still, the connotation of their contrasting hair colors does little to ease the ache in his tiny chest. If Sae is the blood of an early sunrise, then Rin is the death before night. Black is not a marriage but a funeral, the makings of an era filled with fear, violence, and misfortune. In a way, Rin is the end to Sae’s beginning, both the antithesis and the complement.

A soft touch against his chin interrupts his thoughts, and Rin looks up just in time to see Sae retracting his hand, wiping the excess toothpaste off Rin’s chin. And in that moment, he wants to scream. How dare Sae try to leave him? To act like everything was alright. He said the end was another beginning when really it was just the end. There wasn’t any coming back from it. Sae would disappear off to Spain, and he would never come back. At least the version of Sae he was seeing now.

In the dim lights, Rin’s hair is darker than ever, the inky tendrils plastered around his ears like a vacuum devoid of light. He brings a death omen, a curse wherever he goes. In between the liminal space of bathroom mirror and tile, he divorces memory from mind, separating the flesh until it can last no longer. He’ll kill this memory of his brother if he has to, suffocating it in the most gruesome of ways. He doesn’t want to admit this might be the last time he’ll ever see Sae.

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to admit that he just might miss him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rin resolved to give Sae the silent treatment after that night, avoiding him throughout the house and acting like he was repelled by some nameless force. But his plans sadly never seem to work. The more he turns away, the more he is reeled back in, as if cast on some invisible fishing line. Now he’s here in Sae's bedroom, forty-eight hours before D-day, trying to mouth out words that aren't his own.

His brother has somehow convinced him to adopt a new language, something about how he needs to be bilingual to play in different countries. Rin didn’t understand most of it before he complied, letting himself be dragged onto his brother’s bedspread. His English flashcards sit opposite to Sae’s Spanish ones as he crosses his legs, mouthing the shapes on his brother’s lips.

Manzana. Banana. Naranja.

Translation: I am undoing everything that has ever made me whole.

In the middle of their lesson, Sae hands his brother said fruit, as if to accentuate his point. He peels the orange in a perfect spiral, thumb under the calyx as the spongy white fiber separates from ochre flesh, the pulp inlaid like jewels beneath skin. He cracks the segments hexagonally and tosses Rin the larger half.

“Naranja.”

“Naranja.” Rin repeats, curling his tongue around the foreign vowels. He catches the fruit with ease, shoving the flesh into his mouth until juice pools between teeth and his mouth is bursting with flavor. The language trickles down his throat, settling into the hollow of his larynx.

Naranja.

He looks down at his own orange, a half-imitation at best. His fingers are still stuck inside the skin, the liquid squirting into his right eye. It is sour, acrid even. The flesh has gone bad, wrinkled like soft cherries. A tangerine blooms saffron yellow beneath his nails, zest building up under the cuticle. He makes a mental note to wash his hands later.

Mi media naranja.

Unlearning, Rin decides, is a very difficult process. It makes him feel like a child again, an estrangement from his old self. Sometimes two halves aren’t enough to make him whole, and other times it is a section too much. There are many things in this world that elude his grasp. One day perhaps he will know them all. In another life, he would have been able to tell the difference between an apple and an orange, to draw the line between his half and Sae’s half. But for now, he is still discovering, still plucking and choosing, still floundering in a body he has come to hate. Rin picks up another flashcard, right next to the yellow one labeled starfruit, named estrella for each of its five points.

“What’s this one?”

“Desastre. Spanish for disaster.”

"Dis…as…star?"

"It's disaster. You have to enunciate the r."

"Dis…as…ster? What the hell even is that? Another star?"

Sae deadpans, and Rin mentally braces himself for another harsh remark, probably a brutally honest insult about his own stupidity. But this conversation has long evolved past fruits and colors and my half and your half. His brother’s eyes soften with shadows, as if bruised by something far deeper. A contusion forms beneath the surface, purpled and pained. Rin’s mind fills with confusion when Sae suddenly stares out the curtains again, his gaze strangely wistful. The room is so quiet he almost misses Sae’s answer.

"Yeah...it's a star.”

Disaster is a bad star.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day before Sae leaves, Rin wishes on a bad star. He wakes up at an unlucky hour of dawn, slinking past a sleeping town as he goes to find his brother on the embankment near the sea. The streets bend around this corner of the peninsula, gaping like a mouth, lips pried apart at the seams. Located between a rock and a hard place, the coast of Koshigoe Beach oscillates between two types of constant turmoil, battling the erosion of natural forces from the east while facing the gentrification of construction in the west. During early mornings, the tide is sometimes low enough to expose the rocks up to the seawall, the desiccated seaweed forming fishing nets along its edge. Occasionally, the imprints of a stranger's footsteps leave behind small pockets of water, each one a home to an assorted array of abalone and oyster shells. Rin remembers the family vacations he spent here, the storm-cloaked skies. He had been so excited to go clamming after watching every episode of Chibi Maruko-Chan. In his red bucket hat and plastic shovel, he raced to the water’s edge, his little cheeks puffed out in exertion. He had anticipated sunny weather and clear skies, the glitter of rainbow sea glass, maybe even the golden sands he had seen in many of Sae’s travel brochures. But his first impression had been one of utter disappointment.

The sand was a dull, drab grey: a single expanse of color that stretched on forever across the horizon. There were no clouds, only the stinging brittle of salt stuck inside his lungs and nestled between his toes. And to make matters worse, there weren’t even any clams in the first place, no sparkling bits of the golden treasure he had been so desperate to bring home. He felt his spirits dampen with ocean spray, his little feet coming to a sudden halt as he stared crestfallen at the waters.

Rin learned two major lessons that day. One, Maruko-chan was a big fat liar. And two, he should never believe anything that he sees on screen. Unfortunately, his folly cost him a hefty price: one tantrum on the car ride home and zero pretty seashells to add to his collection. Looking back on it now, Rin feels a strange sense of comfort in his disillusionment. In all four directions, his home is still the same greyish wash of color, unchanging as the sea and as unforgiving as its waters. At least that is something he can rely on. Nowadays, the constants in his life can be counted on a single hand, and the number of childhood remnants dwindles down to even fewer.

Still, he can recall one memory clearer than the rest.

While Rin had been busy lamenting the lack of clams, Sae had tugged him by the back of his shirt, pulling him to the wayside as he stuck his fingers into the earth. Obviously, Rin was too caught up in his misery to notice, but his sniffles soon died down when he saw the faintest of bubbles lurk beneath the sandy surface. Sae taught him how to dig, how to plant feet into the ground, how to scavenge for survival. And Rin followed without question.

Soon, a cast of translucent crabs spilled forth from the pits, scuttling in massive red tides. Rin scooped some out with bare hands, sectioning them into segments: the ruby shells of a pomegranate, dividing and dividing again. He held a hermit up to the light, a look of gleeful amazement on his features. Was it their shells that determined their shape or the tender bodies inside them? Rin could never tell. All he knew was that these crabs were a different sort of treasure, ones that he cradled gently with bare hands and shielded from the foraging gulls. They were creatures meant to be loved.

The waves now break across concrete fortifications, crashing upon cubic breakwaters. By the time Rin reaches the paved promenade near the shores, Sae is already there, feet drowned in the freezing Pacific, the shirasu swimming between his toes. He doesn’t even turn when the sand crunches with footsteps, and Rin silently curses his brother’s superior senses.

“I thought I told you not to come, Rin.”

“I know....But I still wanted to.”

In Rin’s mind, it doesn’t matter if Sae didn’t want him to be there. It doesn’t matter that he should’ve never come. He’d always keep chasing this dream if it meant he could stay. In fact, any ill omen would be better than this sinking pit in his stomach, this feeling that something was about to change forever.

The twinkles of light in the sky ripple across the sea, and Rin can’t help but see the view reflected in his brother’s visage. Sae’s eyes are like the ports of Sagami Bay, hardened with the carapace of cold comfort. Absence, Rin believes, would be his brother’s ultimate paradox. Sae could do everything and nothing all at once, and he would still be both the empty hole and the overflowing home. If eyes could be waves and faces could be stars, Sae would be the coldest, but he would also burn the brightest. Right now Rin just wants some of that warmth.

“So...you’re really leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going ahead of you now. You better catch up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best to become scouted like you.”

“Right. And then onto the world. The two of us will become the best there is.”

A silence hangs between them, loose as a thread. The wind whistles across the boardwalk, stirring up small spirals of volcanic sand. Sae notices Rin’s contemplative expression, following his gaze until he finds the moon still in the sky, lit up by the fading light of Polaris. Rin prays silently, knees tucked into his chest as he clasps his hands tightly together. His soft whispers are frequently interspersed by distant murmurs of the sea.

Please let Nii-chan be safe. Please don’t let him forget me.

The sunrise is about to start, one more hour until the day fully begins. Sae has to put an end to this, or else he'll never leave.

“Stop praying, Rin. They’re just stars. They'll die before your wish can come true.”

Rin peeks an eye open, unfurling from his tucked position. He looks to the stars then back at Sae, a familiar prickling in his eyes. Sae doesn’t even need to check to know that he’s crying.

“I just...” Rin’s voice wavers, “I think I’lll miss you, Nii-chan. At least send a message home?”

“Maybe. When I have the time.”

“Oh...okay.” Rin looks down awkwardly, staring at his feet before perking up again, “Do you think our dream can be achieved in a few years? I’ll come visit you in Spain! Maybe we’ll even play for Royale together.”

“You better. Don’t slack off just because I’m not here.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Rin had never been particularly good at farewells, let alone his first one. His voice is watery now, as if liquid and unable to be contained.

“Hey...Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think we’ll make it big?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the length of it too long for Sae’s liking. For once, certainty does not come to him as easily. But Rin already knows there is a fundamental difference to the depths of his brother’s greed. Sae’s eyes harden into flints, his voice crashing across the sandy beaches, unrelenting in its harshness but still shapelessly soft.

“We have to.”

Rin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Neither of them do. If killing himself meant living forever, then Sae Itoshi would have died a long time ago.

He would have died and become a star.

author's note: to whoever made it down here, thank you for reading the words i’ve curated at the cost of my sleep schedule. this chapter was supposed to be a purely self-indulgent one-shot about rin’s character, but it quickly devolved into a multi-chapter fic (oops.) majority of the content is pulled from the official manga, the spin-off novel translations, and occasionally my own personal interpretation. the extended star metaphor is inspired by @hanyjar (my lovely moot) and franny choi's poetry in the atlantic. while the plot follows the original canon chronologically, you can theoretically read the scenes in any order, and the vignettes are meant to vacillate between different scenes and interactions. regardless, rin seeks the same path of self-destruction throughout all scenarios, even if it means losing himself. (atp he needs to go to therapy, and i need to go touch grass.) anyways, thank you for reading, and it genuinely means a lot to see people interact with my works!

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cult-of-the-placeholder · 6 months

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I like to imagine that Shamura always knew.

They have the gift of prophecy, after all: on the day of Narinder's birth, when Shamura first takes the infant god into their arms, they know. Their clairvoyance shows a distant future, an angry, hateful Narinder, wielding a great, cursed scythe with terrifying mastery, bellowing at Shamura to take up arms and fight him.

The vision splits, two possibilities at once: they can either do as demanded and fight their little brother--who's no more than a soft, mewling infant in the present, delicately holding onto their finger and cooing at them in wonder--and their overwhelming power of the eldest all at once will quell him. They can strike him down there with a single, decisive blow, and Narinder will collapse to the ground, crown shattering and lifeless body splayed out grotesquely. Shamura's siblings will shun them for killing Narinder, and the grief will slowly drive them insane.

Or... they can refuse to fight. If they refuse to raise their hand to their brother, Narinder will best them easily. Becoming increasingly more angry as he slashes and strikes them, shrieking at their older sibling to, "Fight me, damn you! Fight me!"

Shamura sees their own skull cleaved, sees the other bishops rush to defend them. They see Heket's throat torn out, Leshy's eyes gouged, Kallamar's ears ripped from his head. He sees them all, bloody and beaten, retreating. He sees them bandaging one another's wounds, sees them forging unholy shackles and chains that could hold their brother. His death is something they want to avoid, even after he injures them so.

Shamura knows better than anyone that a prophecy cannot be outrun or outsmarted, but they still try. What else can they do? The vision leaves them suddenly and the newborn god in their arms is whining with discomfort--tears have begun to drip off their cheeks and have speckled the poor child's face. They gently wipe them away, heart pounding with nerves, and nestle the baby close against their chest.

They try so hard. They run themselves ragged over the next several hundred thousand years, taking every preventative measure they can. They search endlessly for more visions, for some kind of hint, something they can do to change it. They vow to love Narinder completely, infinitely, and their other brothers and little sister as well. Perhaps if they loves him enough, treasures and cherishes them and gives them each the entirety of their heart, this horrible future can be evaded. Delayed. Denied.

Surely something must cause Narinder to raise his blades against them. They nip every problem in the bud, they raise the four other gods with grace and love, hands warm and kind when they need to be, just as they are firm and stern when it is necessary. The other 4 bishops grow in great power, and they love each child endlessly. Especially Narinder. The little god of death is the only one that shares their passion for the written word, and so often retreats into Shamura's vast libraries to study poetry and prose alike. Sometimes they read together, first with Narinder seated directly in their lap, then sitting together shoulder-to-shoulder when he's grown too big for that. Shamura is sure to express their affections each and every time, so that Narinder can never forget how loved he is.

Millenium pass by the hundreds, and the horrible prophecy hasn't yet come to pass, and Shamura tries valiantly to forget it. The world grows and matures and worships them, and their siblings have become fine rulers indeed. The lands prosper, endless devotion for them to dine on and grow ever stronger.

Then... Narinder asks Shamura about the prospect of change. Changing death's rules, carving out a new and uncertain future, letting the mortals walk again after having left the waking realm, and not in the means of rebirth, no: rather, instead, he spoke of granting their souls a second chance in a revived body.

It's blasphemous. It's heinous. It's unnatural.

Shamura cannot allow him to violate the laws of nature. They forbid he do such things, and that night they're plagued with the nightmarish vision again, but this time only one ending plays out: their skull is split because they refuse to fight him. It's happening so fast all around them, and they go to Narinder in the middle of the night. Hugs him desperately, grasping his shoulders with all four hands, begging him to remember that he is loved and that something like this shouldn't come between them. Begs him to reconsider, but refrains from telling him about the prophecy. Telling someone of a percieved inevitability often acted to push them directly towards it. Fate was ironic like that.

They beg Narinder not to, beg him to just stay as he is, and their little brother is so confused. And when Shamura refuses to tell him what is going on, he becomes suspicious. Bids they go away, and disappears into a dark portal to a place where Shamura can't track him.

It devolves from there. Shamura knows what's coming and is powerless to stop it--they stop sleeping, they stop eating, they withdraw entirely and throw themselves desperately into their forbidden library, searching for something, anything they can do to change their fate. A loss like this will be felt for thousands of years to come, and their heart can't bear it. Shamura spends days, weeks, months, years in a restless trance, mind stretched thin as their desperation drives them to search for a solution that does not exist. A long time for mortals to be sure, but for a god it could be the blink of an eye. While they have been deep in the recesses of ethereal knowledge, Narinder has grown considerably more bored, more angry, more isolated.

When Narinder comes to them, scythe in hand, Shamura is exhausted. It has been so long since they drank from their followers' devotion. Narinder comes to challenge them, a fight for death, he says--death will evolve, and if Shamura wants to stop it they will have to kill him. Or at the very least beat him into submission.

And Shamura can't. Their worst nightmare is playing out in real time right before their eyes, and they do nothing when Narinder's pitch black blade comes down on them. They're crying, silently, tears of grief flowing down their face because they know what's coming. If they raise their arms and fight their brother, Narinder will die.

They can't. They won't. Not to their baby brother.

#god im so normal about the bishops #Shamura #Narinder #the bishops of the old faith #cult of the lamb #cotl

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maplleaf · 11 months

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a/n: I can't reply bc this is a side blog. tumblr L 👎also srry for being late been busy with irl things ajeihdjd.

GEPARD LANDAU

Meeting new people and creating bonds is like second nature for the crew of the Astral Express. As a part of that family, it's hereby natural for you to do the same. Friends, or even enemies, are common to make; lovers are rare though. When Himeko suggested the youngsters of the Express should go out and bond, she didn't think it'll end up in romance.

Neither you and Gepard fell at first sight, it was closer to falling at first fight, or second to be even more specific. You definitely caught his eye when taking a small tour of Belobog. March 7th is the walking ball of energy; Dan Heng is smart and composed, the grey-haired trailblazer is... trash loving; and to him, you were like the older sibling who keeps everyone in check.

In addition, you seemed interested in his explanation of Belobog's history, the sentence being supported by your volunteer work for Belobog's museum a couple weeks after.

The next time you two met, you threw hands with him. He fought and believed in Cocolia's words, even fought against his sister for it. Yet in the end, he was knocked some sense into and was defeated.

When he saw you fight, something seemed to click like a lightswitch in him. Even if he was blocking you to your goals, you didn't want to hurt him. It end up hurting like hell, yeah, but it didn't leave any marks or cause even worse injuries.

He could see that you held back, and something about that weighed in maybe he was in the wrong. How could someone as gentle as this, be inclined to destroy the last city that exist?

After that, it was like a snowball falling from the top of a mountain until he's hit with the realization that yes; Gepard Laundau is falling for you. The Express didn't leave for awhile, and he finds himself struggling to leave your side in that time. It took some time, but he was eventually invited aboard the Astral Express.

_____

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Gepard smiled in agreement at your words. He gazed into the planet he's been living on, or commonly called Jarilo-IV. Even with the eternal winter decimating the land, it was still a magnificent view.

"Since the root of the eternal winter is solved, Belobog's temperature should be rising," you tried to comfort him, afraid he may be disappointed in the view.

Gepard's blue eyes laid on you. If he were to tell himself from the past that he would fall in love with an alien who helped solve the eternal winter's crisis, his past self wouldn't even believe it for a second.

"...the view is the planet y'know, not me," you teased him, letting out a few light laughter. Gepard's face flushed as he was caught staring, "sorry. You just looked very pretty," he blurted out, now making both of your faces red.

After bracing yourself not to stutter, you broke the silence. "...In any case, even if the Express leave we can still talk to eachother," you told the blonde whilst showing your smartphone. Belobog's phones aren't as advanced as the ones sold by the IPC, but it can still connect and chat with the messenger app of the newer designs. "Here, I'll give you my number."

Gepard gave you his device gladly, with red still dusting over his cheeks.

... away from both of your sight, a wild March 7th watches, taking a picture of you two with her camera. "Stalker Marxh 7th strikes again," the grey haired trailblazer told her and lightheartedly rolling their eyes.

"C'mon, it's cute!" she exclaimed, taking another picture.

The whole crew watched as Gepard chased after your affection similar to a puppy; a comparison Himeko had made. As long as you're happy, the Express Family is happy. By looking at your reactions to his attempts at courting, it seems you were interested in him as well.

"Young love, adorable isn't it, Welt?" Himeko said whilst drinking her cup of coffee. You just left for Belobog to see the blonde captain once more.

Welt nodded to Himeko as he sat on the couch beside her, his eyes focused on the IPC's news broadcasted on their site. "They should make it official quick, we're leaving for another planet in a few more days," he advised, receiving a chuckle from Himeko.

"Has time really passed that quickly?" the redhead smiled.

When the Express visited the Xianzhou Luofu after receiving a tip from Kafka, for some of them it was their first time; Not you though. Whilst you weren't born in the Xianzhou Luofu, you visited the large ship a couple times before.

That day, the Express Family groupchat is blessed with the picture sent by you. Your hands intertwined with Gepard's. The group chat, mainly March 7th, exploded.

In your first visit, you were fortunate enough to meet the dozing general. At the time, you didn't even know he was the general of the cloud knights. For you, he was the attractive man who somehow has birds in his hair.

By that, you meant literally. First time you saw him, you saw a bird crawl into his hair like a nest and you blurt out in front of him; "Are you a bird collector?"

Jing Yuan saw you with a surprised yet pleased smile, after hundreds of years of living; he had never been greeted like that before. "It likes to stay there," Jing Yuan chuckled, curious about your behaviour.

"Are you perhaps a visitor?"

You nodded as a response to him. "My friend was supposed to show me around, but I sorta got lost," you laughed sheepishly. "But fuck it! An adventure is an adventure."

Frankly, your carefree nature felt like fresh air compared to the stiff nature that he's always sorrounded by due to his work. To talk freely with someone who doesn't care about status, when your conversation was over; he simply thought it was a pleasant time.

You exchanged numbers right after, and he never saw you again. At least, in person.

When Jing Yuan isn't busy with work or resting, he wouldn't mind having an interesting conversation with you in his pass time. Over time, he starts to develop a small interest in you beyond friendship. What's fascinating is that you never found out what his title is; something that could be a miracle, or your lack of knowledge of the Xianzhou Luofu.... either way, he doesn't mind it.

While you two doesn't talk everyday, he gets a general idea of how you're doing, and your adventures as a Nameless. He doesn't have any strong opinions regarding the Astral Express and its passengers, but the stories that you told brought a smile to his face each time he reads it.

So when he heard about the Express' sudden visit to Xianzhou Luofu, the smile he usually has increased tenfold. The face he saw you had when his hologram appeared was absolutely priceless!

He sees you trying to balance professionalism in front of Yukong whilst clearly wanting to speak freely to him. Your face clearly holding yourself from being angry at the general but still wanting to be polite in front of Yukong.

"General?"

You crossed your arm followed by an exasperated sigh. "I should've guessed it... your outfit screams 'i am a military person'..." Jing Yuan laughed at your reaction.

"You never asked if I'm a general or not," he retorted, causing you to swing your hand through his hologram.

"How was i supposed to know?!"

Your reaction brought a smile to his face, an expression that your companions at the Express (and Yukong) noted. Welt watched as his fellow passenger of the Astral Express talked with the highly esteemed general like an old friend. He glanced to the person beside him before sighing;

"March, put your camera down."

The starskiff haven stopped at the dock as Jing Yuan emerged from the transportation. The crisis that the Xianzhou Luofu experienced is finally over as life continued on as usual. For Jing Yuan, he's forced to go through much more paperwork than before, but as long as the Xianzhou Luofu is safe, he can make a few sacrifices.

As walked to the central area, he spots a familiar figure looking over to the clouds. The laziness tiredness that's caused by his recent workload seems to dissappear as he approached the person.

"A spectacular view, isn't it?" Jing Yuan chuckled, talking loud enough for you to hear. Your gaze didn't move from the clouds, as his voice is far too recognizable.

"It is... I might come here again if I can get a vacation day from Trailblazing," you could feel Jing Yuan walking closer to you. Your eyes finally moved to him, "let me guess, your 'secret' job gave you mountains of work to do."

Jing Yuan lets out a few light laughs, leaning against the railing as well. "If you know about it, then it's not a secret anymore," he answered. "But yes, they did."

You sighed, stretching your back before leaning forward to view the majestic view once more. "Too bad~ I guess we can't talk to eachother as often anymore, then."

The white haired general took it as a challenge, raising his eyebrow with a smirk. "How are you so confident? I may end up disturbing you at every hour of the day to prove it wrong."

You faked yourself shuddering at the thought, "no thanks... I'd rather join the anti-matter legion if that's the case."

A curiosity then begin to pollute your mind, begging for an answer. "Why did you hide it from me, the general thing?"

Jing Yuan had to thought of an answer before properly saying it. He didn't want misunderstandings after all. "The people I meet will always be unique and different due to this job, and yet their attitude towards me would be similair; with the exception of a few."

"...you were simply different, a breath of fresh air." He chuckled, "My name is well-known around the Xianzhou Luofu and even beyond; to meet and be close with someone who would strive away from the formalities that I've grown accustomed to, I didn't want it to change."

"All living beings with basic thoughts would change their behavior after knowing something new about someone, if you knew about my occupation and title; I feared there might be a change in behavior," he confessed, knowing you won't react negatively. Jing Yuan felt safe enough to confide in you with his occasional day-to-day life frustrations; this seems like the same to him.

You listened closely to his words, feeling your heart ache in glee. Even if he weren't a general, you would feel the same appreciation for him for opening up to you.

"And do I have any changed behaviors now?" you asked, raising an eyebrow wanting to tease him.

Jing Yuan chuckled, "perhaps... you've became slightly more bold," he teased, receiving a smack to his back from you for payback.

The reaction caused you two to laugh. A comforting silence overcame the general and the Nameless. Quietness began to fill your ears.

Your hand slowly went to Jing Yuan's, trailing until your hand is on top of his. Despite you taking the first initiatives, he was the one who interlocked your fingers first; you following not long after.

Words doesn't need to be spoken, as silence seems so be stronger than any words could've been.

"I meant it! Dan Heng, you've lived here before right. It's clear there's some kind of spark in the general's expression!"

"And I've never seen them interact before, I don't have any references to make an assumption."

As the two bickered, the grey haired trailblazer held up the foto Tingyun gave them. "It's on a discount~ since you're a friend of the two," she winked, giving them a QR code for the payment.

The picture is of Jing Yuan holding hands with a fellow Nameless and Astral Express crew. Both of them looking at the clouds of the Xianzhou Luofu. It didn't show their faces, only their backs; and yet from where the photo was taken; it's clear as day that they're holding hands.

Tha Trailblazer sighed, "...this feels exploitative," they sighed but still scanning the QR code, paying for the single picture.

"It's fine, since you're a friend it wouldn't be a problem" Tingyun reassured the trailblazer, seeing the payment confirmation on her device. "Thank you for purchasing, loyal customer!"

March 7th heard Tingyun talking to the Trailblazer, her focus drifted towards them. She gave a hand gesture beckoning them to come closer to her, "did you buy Jing Yuan photos? He would probably be fine if you started taking pictures for free after we saved the Luofu!"

"Techniqally...yes?" The Trailblazer answered, showing their two friends the picture. Dan Heng raised his eyebrow, rarely being physically surprised, whilst March 7th excitedly took a picture of the picture.

"No way?! Is this real?" March 7th exclaimed, tapping on the Trailblazer's shoulder excitedly, "quick quick, text (y/n) about it."

Hearing that, the Trailblazer opened up their chat with the person in question. They sent the picture with the question; "whats this??"

You seemed to reply in an instant, ":)"

March 7th looked over to the Trailblazer's shoulder, "let me see..." she's caught dumbfounded at the weird and cryptic answer. "Hey, what's this kind of answer?! Send another one."

The Trailblazer nodded at her request, sending the most clear cut, gramatically correct, tear-bringing sentence;

"Answer plz."

They got left on read.

#watched the spiderverse movie ysterday #hobie brown BDJDBRJHDUDJRBRJ love my lil anarchist 😄😄#honkai starrail #honkai starrail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x gn reader #jing yuan x male reader #gepard #gepard x reader #gepard x male reader #gepard x gn reader #hsr

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kiwisbell · 8 months

Text

Whiskey Sour

chapter three: painkiller

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 5.6k

chapter 3: painkiller

Stargazing, and knowing wrong from right.

Joel doesn't quite trust your car not to blow up, so he drives you both out near Devil’s Cove when the clock strikes eleven.

You sit next to him on the truck bench, in your little skirt, and he tries not to look at the way it slips up your thighs. He cannot stop thinking about your words: Don't think you aren't getting a gift after everything you've done to help me. Part of him is thrilled to know you think about him enough to get eager about celebrating his birthday. Another part of him doesn't want to celebrate getting older. He’s old enough.

A third part doesn't give a shit about a present, when he's got you right here, right next to him.

“You were right,” he says. “I do like the telescope.”

“Did you spend a lot of time in the country?”

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel even though the truck radio is apparently tuned to a local station that does not play music. The announcer’s voice drones on about the Longhorns’ losing streak. “When I was a kid,” says Joel. “My parents had a farmhouse—raised cows, chickens, sheep, all of it. They had a business goin’ for the locals who wanted eggs or fresh meat.”

You can picture it: a younger Joel, dressed in a farmer’s flannel and a cowboy hat, herding sheep and tending to customers with that same charming smile you know now. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Younger brother. Tommy.” Joel briefly glances your way. “Lost my dad when I was ten. After that, Mom, Tommy, and I ran the place ourselves. I dropped out of high school to do it full-time when she got sick.”

You feel a twinge in your chest. “You, too, huh?”

He sighs through his nose. “Yeah. I would've been about your age.”

“Funny, the way things work out.” You lean back in your seat and turn your head back to the windshield. “But that does sound nice. A life away from all the madness. Just… quiet. Simple.”

“You'd like that?” Joel chuckles. “Thought you were a city girl.”

“I’m not saying I want to milk cows all day,” you tell him with a laugh. “Mom and I used to drive to the east coast in the summertime when I was in high school. We’d visit all the coastal towns and the little restaurants, go whale-watching. That was the only time we could really relax, outside the big city. I looked forward to those vacations most, before she got sick.”

Joel recognises the melancholy tone your voice takes when you talk about your mother. He hears it in his own voice. “She sounds like a good mom.”

“She was.” Your eyes flick to him again, and this time, he's looking at you. “I’m sorry, Joel. I would've liked to meet her.”

“I'd like that, too.” He fixes his eyes back on the road. “You, uh… you hear from Liam lately?”

“And we were having such a nice conversation,” you tease. “He lives with me, Joel. I’m bound to hear from him on a regular basis. Practically daily.”

Not the right answer. His hands tighten around the wheel. “I don’t like him.”

“I couldn't tell.” You pull your knees up to your chest and hug yourself into a tight ball. “You know I’ve never had a real boyfriend?”

Joel scoffs. “Excuse me if I have a hard time believin’ that.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Nah. No way.” Joel shakes his head. “Those idiot high school boys were linin’ up at your door the way these idiot college boys are. You’re too pretty to have never had a fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Your cheeks feel white-hot. “Joel. That’s ridiculous.”

“I ain’t lyin’.” His grin is boyish when he looks at you again and your nerves flutter. “Guys have a way of knowin’ things.”

“Oh, you're so full of shit.” You smack him gently in the arm. “If they were all so interested, why'd they never tell me?”

“Because they were boys.” He gives you a pointed look. “And so is that asshole you live with. He thinks he's got a right to you ‘cause you live with him.”

“No, he—”

“Yes, he does. Any guy would be lucky as shit to have you.”

You lift your brows, opening your mouth to retort, but Joel just looks away, that crooked smirk pissing you off as much as it makes your heart pound with girlish anxiety. “We’re here.”

You slump back in your seat as he parks in a dirt lot by the edge of the water. Just down the road, by the docks, there will be college kids gearing up to celebrate the Longhorns’ first win of the season, and some just wanting an excuse to get hammered. You hop out of the truck as Joel unlatches the gate at the back. “Should be a good view here…”

He trails off when he looks up to find you staring at the midnight sky. The light of the stars reflects in your eyes and the curve of your neck shimmers with a faint layer of sweat in the humid air. When you swallow, he watches your throat hollow, and he wonders how a man is supposed to forget you. If a man can ever see your face, your body, your wondrous, awe-struck smile, and rest peacefully.

“They’re beautiful,” you gasp. “Just like… like the coast in summertime.”

Joel surprises himself when he joins you at your side and reaches for your hand. “It’ll look better if you're laying down,” he says softly. “C’mon.”

You put your hand in his. The touch shifts his axis. The touch is an electric shock to his entire body, restructuring his pathways, reconfiguring his brain. The touch, he thinks, will forever change the way he sees you. It will change everything.

“Joel.”

“Mmm.” He realises he hasn't moved. His fingers engulf yours, your skin so soft under his rough palms that he worries he'll somehow ruin it.

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper, your pretty lips parting in the shape of a gratitude he will never deserve but will spend his moments earning as best he can. Your eyes are fixed on your joined hands, the way your thumb caresses the space between his thumb and forefinger.

He leads you toward the back of the truck. You crawl up yourself, and it's ungentlemanly of him not to help you up, but he cannot touch you again. The world will fall out from beneath his feet.

But it still does. When you shift so you're lying on your back, barely a foot from him, the earth blinks out of existence. All that remains is the faint heave of your chest, skin scattering moonlight, and the way you meet his eyes in the void.

“Gotta look up to see the stars, baby.” His voice is rough.

Your head turns and you face the sky above, but he doesn't move. Not quite yet. He savours the image of your profile, the silvery light on your face, the contentment in your eyes. Your lashes are spidery and your hair fans out beneath you, and all he wants to do is reach out. Touch. Guide you beneath him. Gaze into your eyes as he undresses you. Watch your bones melt for him, your troubles flee your brain, your mouth drop open in a long, dark whine. His name.

“That one’s Venus.” You point to a bright star overhead, and then another. “And that’s Polaris. Those are the only two I really know. And you aren't looking at the stars.”

Joel swallows hard. “No. I’m not.”

“I like it when you call me that.” Your eyes meet his again. Your noses are inches apart.

“Call you what?”

Your breath is a warm puff of air. “Baby.”

He’s losing control of his own body. His fingers crave the warmth of your skin, the heat between your thighs, the knowledge of what's under that fucking skirt. His whole body craves your closeness, needs your attention, will die without you curled up against him. His body seeks the ruination of yours. His heart seeks the comfort he knows he can give you.

“That so?” He can barely get it out.

Your eyes are wide, buttery soft, needy. “Yeah,” you sigh. “It feels good.”

Jesus Christ. “I…” His mouth is so fucking dry he can hardly swallow anymore. “I didn’t mean for—”

“I know.” He’s going to do it. He’s going to throw all of it away and touch you. He’s going to—

Your head turns back toward the sky, and your eyes flutter shut. He can see a small pearl trail down your cheek, and he realises it's a tear. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking. “This is your pre-birthday. You should be giving me ideas for a better gift.”

Joel’s own voice isn't faring much better. His laugh comes out like a hoarse whisper. “This…” He finally looks up at the stars and finds Venus. “This is all I could ask for.”

“Don’t lie to me, Miller.” There’s the playful tone he likes so much. “I’ve got your number.”

“I mean it.” He folds his hands over his stomach. “It’s peaceful out here. Reminds me of home.”

“Do you think your mom would've liked it here?” you ask.

“She would,” says Joel.

You sniffle. “Yeah, mine, too.”

Around him, the crickets chirp and the air is stagnant. It feels like a snapshot of time. Except that you're here, next to him, the warmth of your body rolling in waves over his nerves like a hundred cresting waves.

“Boys never liked me.”

Joel can't help but look at you in disbelief.

“I’m telling you the truth.” You shrug. “When I had my first crush on a boy, I avoided him like the plague, because I didn’t want to be rejected. Then I set him up with my best friend.”

Joel blinks. You laugh like you can feel his amusement. “You don't have to tell me how stupid it was. I know. I just figured, if I didn’t go for it, I’d never get hurt.”

“And what happened every time after that?” asks Joel.

“I was always too busy. I never let myself go to parties because there was always an excuse. Work, school, Mom. I had more important things to do, bigger things to worry about. Last time I went on a date, Mom convinced me to reschedule our usual hospital visit so I could go out with him. Halfway through, the hospital called me.” Your breath shudders out of you. “By the time I got there, she was mostly gone. I lost my last moments with her.”

Joel’s heart surges forward, lurching out of his chest. His hand finds a stray wisp of hair and tucks it behind your ear. It isn't in your eyes or blocking his view; he just wants to. He wants to be the one who's right here when you’re sad. He wants you to never feel like you have to put your own life in restraints—never again. “That was not your fault.”

“He was a total dud, too.” You laugh mirthlessly. “They’ve all been duds.”

And me? he wants to ask. If I put my hand here and I put my mouth there, would you deny me? Would you shove me away? Or would you let me treat you the way you deserve?

He wants to be your guiding hand. He’ll give you what you need. He’ll be as firm as you want and he’ll be gentle all the other times. He’ll show you just how wanted you are.

“You’ll find better,” he says instead. “Can’t promise they won't be fielded beforehand.”

You laugh, facing him again. “Is that so, Miller? You gonna background check them all?”

Fuck yes, I will. Joel shrugs, all pouty and grumpy again, and you just want to grace those patches of grey in his beard.

Yes, it will cross a line. Yes, it will ache so beautifully to touch him the way you want. You don't know how to reconcile these two parts of you: the part that's here to rebuild a life, and the part that wants to simply forget how difficult that life can be and drown yourself in the sweet tang of being alone with him.

“Oh! I forgot.” You bolt upright, scrambling off the truck bed so fast it gives Joel whiplash. You reach into the passenger’s side and pull out your bag. “I stole this from the kitchen. Thought you might be hungry after one cup of coffee.”

You produce a styrofoam container with a piece of chocolate cake inside. “I may have also asked Dad what kind of cake I should bake for your birthday.” You bite your bottom lip. “This’ll have to tide us over until the real thing.”

He doesn't know how to cope with the amount of affection surging up his throat, overfilling his bloodstream. Your mouth is so fucking close. How would it taste? Your dark, sexy perfume smells so good, your hair so soft and a little wind blown from the car ride. You would be so perfect, so beautiful, so soft to touch.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He’s pine and sawdust and a little bit of mint. He’s manly, dark and a bit of grey, strong and broad. Capable. “You don't have to eat it,” you tell him, “but I brought two forks, just in case.”

His chest squeezes. “C’mon up here, baby.”

You climb back up onto the truck bed and situate yourself next to him, both of you sitting up against the back window. You hold the container as you both dig in, the cake a little too soft but still good. Still chocolate. And he's sharing it with you.

It’s not even his birthday yet.

“How’s that Daily Texan gig workin’ out for you?” he asks.

Your eyes light up. He remembered? “I’ve been put in charge of the Student Wellness section. I don't know why the fuck they thought that was a good idea.”

“Gives you an opportunity to learn how to relax.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Any suggestions?”

“This is a good start,” offers Joel. “Stargazing.”

You pocket that idea. “At least I didn't get put on Sports.”

“Y’know I was on the swim team in high school?”

“With those shoulders? Doesn’t surprise me one bit.” You lift your eyebrows at him and all Joel can think is, I want you, I want you, I want you.

When you both decide it's time to head back home, Joel eats the last bite of cake at your request and you slide back into the passenger’s seat. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “That was a hell of a lot more fun than trying to sleep.”

“No, it wasn't,” you laugh. “But I’m glad I could help, even a little. You don't sleep well?”

Lately, baby, it's because of you. “Pretty much not at all.”

Your brows knit together, but Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it much, anyway. I get by just fine.”

“You tell me that when you pass out at the wheel because the caffeine wore off. Do you want me to drive?”

“You still have to drive home on a shitty alternator,” he argues, a little more worried about the state of your car than he's letting on. “I’ll be okay. I’ve gone longer on less sleep.”

You chew on your lip, and Joel brushes the rough pad of his thumb over your chin. “I’ll be okay,” he repeats. “Just buckle up.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just don't kill us.”

I haven’t tasted you, he thinks. Dying won’t do just yet.

In his dream, you’re wearing the black thong. Nothing else.

You knock on his bedroom door and he lets you in. He doesn't know why. He shouldn't. But he does. And you're there, your pretty tits sitting so perfectly for him, your hands demurely clasped behind your back, your eyes looking up at him expectantly. Wanting. Dark.

He takes control. He pulls you against him, his chest against your back, tilting your head back, exploring your skin with his mouth, dipping his fingers into the flimsy waistband of that godforsaken thong and ripping it in two.

In his dream, you're naked. Joel grabs handfuls of your ass while his hips batter you from behind, your slick, hot pussy sucking him in so deep that his whole body may disappear into yours. It's a dream. It doesn't make sense. But sense knocks at his ribs and cracks them in order to escape. Your mewls and moans as you take his cock replace any inkling of conscience, consciousness. You melt into the mattress and forget your worries with every thrust. He makes you forget.

That's it. That's it, baby. You can take me. My good girl. So fuckin’ good, baby, that’s—

He’s awake. Joel grunts, shucking away his covers. His cock is tenting his boxers, which he scrambles to get off as he burns from the inside out. His cock slaps against his stomach, precum pooling at his navel. He hisses, grasping his shaft at the base, his hips bucking helplessly into his hand. His head tips back against the pillows as he begins to jerk himself off to the image of you underneath him. Moaning. Whining. Joel, Joel, yes, oh, my—

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, spitting into his hand and twisting his hand around the head of his cock. Your mouth parts around the tip and your tongue darts out to lap up the precum on his slit, and he grunts your name. It’s fucking filthy. He’s filthy. “Goddamn—”

Holding you, cradling your head, watching your mouth take him, the tip prodding your throat. Your watery eyes, your needy, leaking pussy, your knees folded so primly under you. As if his cock isn’t down your fucking throat. “Jesus,” he growls, jerking faster, the pressure building in his ears and his throat and his stomach, his balls pulling up—

His cum spills over his hand and stomach as he groans your name, long and loud, to the empty room. He pants, staring up at the ceiling. Running his clean hand over his face, he shakes his head. Mike would kill him if he knew. And he’d fucking deserve it.

Because Joel knows that he doesn't just need any warm body. He doesn't need to forget you by finding someone else. It isn't just a vague need.

It is you.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your head jerks up so fast your neck twinges. There's a guy looking at you with a sheepish smile, gesturing to the seat on your left. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn't mean to… interrupt.”

“No! No, I’m sorry. Please, feel free.”

He slides into the seat and pulls out his books. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

You're a little surprised to see him offer his hand to you. People your age still shake hands with one another? Giving him a smile, you introduce yourself. “You just had to catch me while I was lost in thought. I’m usually a lot more suave.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Steve. He has a charming smile; he's about your age, with dark hair and a lean figure, and a pair of kind blue eyes. “Have you started studying for the midterm?”

You snort. “Please. If I think about it for one second, I’ll be breaking all the rules of my article.”

Steve laughs, assessing you with a brief once-over. “I recognise your name. You edit for the paper, right?”

“Guilty.”

“Only if it were bad. I liked your last piece.” He places his hand over his heart. “Your dad taught you this?”

You smile. He actually read your latest article. “He did,” you say brightly. “I was freaking out over the move here, and he told me how to ground myself.”

Steve grins. “Well, it's good to know the paper has someone of quality writing for them.”

You roll your eyes. “Smooth.”

“I know. Practised it over the last couple minutes in my head.” Steve taps his pen on his notebook. His notes are neat and his handwriting is small. “Hey, if you ever decide to brave the hell that is the study guide, I’d be happy to do it with you. Okay, more like reluctant, but happy to do it with you.”

You really could use the study buddy. “Yeah. That would be great.”

“Thank God,” sighs Steve. “I thought I’d have to beg.”

“Oh, you still can, if you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a laugh, turning to face the front of the room as the professor walks in. Wordlessly, he writes down a phone number on the corner of his page and rips it out, sliding it over to you. You stuff the scrap of paper in your bag.

Neither Joel nor your father show up at the bar tonight. They both have to get up early to drive across town for the job, but work is a little less alive without the company. Rob still makes sure to walk you to your car when your shift ends at eleven, and it only takes three turns of the key for the engine to start.

The problem is that halfway through the journey home, a torrential downpour starts slicing rain in a diagonal path to your windshield, and your engine sputters until the lights go out. “Fuck!” you cry out, turning the key again and again without luck. Your car is dead.

You climb out of the driver’s seat and wave your apology to the people behind you as you run to the bumper and begin to push in the direction of the road’s shoulder. “Come on,” you beg, shoving and digging your heels into the ground.

Several cars behind you begin to honk their horns, and it only makes your eyes fill with tears. The rain lashes you in the face and soaks your hair through to your scalp, your clothes drenched in freezing-cold water. You don't even have a jacket to stay warm.

“Come on!”

The car gives when you manage to get the front right wheel on the shoulder. Not a single person gets out to help you push the rest of the way, instead deciding to veer their cars around you once there's enough room. Still, they don't care enough not to splash you in the deepening puddles as they race by.

“Don’t worry about me,” you scream, your voice getting lost in the pounding of rain on the ground.

Shit, shit, shit. You're too far away from home to walk the rest of the way, and there isn't a payphone in sight. So, you wrestle your keys from the car out of spite, gather your bag with your work uniform, and make a decision.

He’s making dinner when there’s a knock on his front door. He cleans his hands of raw chicken and heads toward the door. It’s pouring rain; what the hell kind of solicitor wants his business this badly?

The door swings open, and you're standing on Joel’s porch, dripping wet from your head to toes, clutching your bag close to your chest. “H—hi.”

The look in your eye is so resigned, so sad, that he can't for a second think about how it looks for you to show up at his home so late at night. “Jesus,” he says. “What the fuck happened?”

“My car br—broke down. Dad isn’t h—home, and I had to wa—walk.” Your entire body is racked with relentless shivers as you hug yourself. “Do you m—mind if I use your dryer?”

Joel’s heart cleaves in two at the sight of your soaked-through jeans, your drenched sweatshirt, and his blood simmers at the thought of you having to walk home without anyone to keep you safe.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, brows pinching as he ushers you inside and envelops you in his arms. Your whole body sags into him, and he doesn't give a shit that rainwater is seeping through his clothes. You’re cold and he’s warm, and you can relax. Fuck, just being held like this makes you sniffle, forgetting the cold, damp walk and the pile of work you haven't done and the money you don't have in favour of imprinting the feeling of his hard chest and his soft belly pressed against you.

“Joel…”

Your weak, soft voice rattles in his brain and tastes like honey on his tongue. He pulls away to cup your face in his hands, moving your damp hair from your face. “You’ll catch a cold. “Let’s get you out of those clothes, okay?”

You nod, slipping off your shoes and letting him lead you to his bedroom. “Take whatever you want,” he tells you, gesturing toward his closet where all his shirts are hanging up. “Pants are in the drawer there. You want coffee? I’m just making dinner.”

Despite yourself, a little laugh slips out. “You’re making d—dinner at mid—midnight.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was waitin’ for you.” His hands caress your arms, up and down, up and down, watching the tension in your shoulders ebb away. “I’ll let you shower.”

“I d—don't want to stay,” you tell him. “I mean, I do, b—but it’s s—so late.”

He shakes his head, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “Shhh, baby. You've never been a bother and that hasn't changed now.”

“Joel.” He turns at the doorway to face you again. “Thank you.”

He leaves without another word because he doesn't trust himself not to rush back inside and gather you up in his arms once more. You're in his goddamn bedroom. You're feet away from the bed where he jerked off to a dream of you last night. And you can never know. You will never know—no matter how many lines he crosses.

After your shower, you pick out a too-big sweatshirt emblazoned with his company logo and a pair of grey sweatpants. Your cheeks feel warm knowing that he's worn these, maybe even slept inside them, and you dry your hair in a towel. You feel clean, less miserable, and bone-tired, but you still hesitate before you turn the knob and leave Joel’s bedroom.

He’s in the kitchen—you can smell chicken, steamed broccoli, maybe cheese?—and your mouth waters. You didn't know you were hungry until now. Joel’s gaze finds you when he hears footsteps.

You. Wearing his clothes. Dressed in his sweatpants. You even fucking smell like him, your hair cleaned with his shampoo and your body washed with his soap. He may keel over. Blood rushes to his cock, filling it out in his own sweatpants, and if you notice, you don't say a word.

Settling into the chair at the little, circular dining table, you meet his eyes across the way. “This looks good, Joel. Thank you.”

“Where’s your car?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“On the shoulder of a road somewhere,” you reply. “Your neighbourhood was closest, and there aren't exactly many payphones in the suburbs. I’ll call a tow truck in the morning.”

“You pushed your own car to the side of the road?” Joel’s angry instincts are prickling again, his ears burning at the thought of you alone in the dark and the rain, helpless to get anywhere but to him. “Did someone help you?”

Your eyes find a fascinating spot on the table, your silence giving him all the answers he needs. Your clothes were even flecked with mud when you came to him, meaning you'd been splashed by passing cars. Joel’s jaw ticks, his fingers flexing into fists.

He couldn't fix this. He couldn't be there when you needed help. He couldn't even know about it until the damage was already done. “Fuck, baby.”

“It’s okay.” You meet his eyes again, giving him a sad smile. “I’m all right.”

He sighs harshly through his nose. “Come here.”

You follow orders beautifully, closing the distance between you and him. Slowly, so slowly, you bracket his thighs with yours and lower yourself onto his lap, your arms winding around his neck.

He knows you can feel the insistent press of his cock against your thigh. He knows the telltale widening of your pupils, the darkness in your eyes—the thrilling catch of your breath when he finally lifts his hand to the small of your back, fitting you against him.

There is no going back from a thing like this.

“You're upset,” he says into the thinning air. It feels like a slight. “You don't want me. Not like this.”

You don't reply. You just begin to move.

“Jesus.” His hands find your hips on instinct, squeezing hard as if he can get you to stop. “Shit. What are you—”

“I want you,” you whisper as your hips gyrate slowly over his stiff cock. You never break eye contact. “I want all of you.”

Your forehead drops to his, your noses brushing as he keeps pulling you closer, guiding your hips over him, betraying the words that leave his mouth. The heat between your thighs warms his body, your cunt dragging over his length and your mouth dropping open at the sparks of pleasure against your clit.

Joel grits his teeth, helping you move. “Fuck. Fuckin’ hell, baby.” His cock twitches, leaning precum into his boxers. “That’s it. Take what you want. Take what you need, baby girl.”

He will drink your soft moans down and guide your whimpering voice into his mouth. But you need to come first. You need to take, so he can give. “So fuckin’ good,” he grunts.

“Joel.” It’s a mewl, quiet and pitched high.

He thinks about the truck bed, the stars, the times he wanted and wanted but never took. But it's never been about him. This is you, baring yourself for a man who will hold you and admire you and expect nothing in return. He doesn't. He wants you to know it.

This is about you. He can be selfish later.

He can feel that you're close, your hips stuttering and your breath catching on every intake. “I know. I’ve got you. Just keep goin’.”

Maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the consistent pressure against your clit. Maybe it's the need to be warm and safe and pliable in his arms. You come, grasping the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his messy hair as your other hand clutches his shoulder. But he's got you. He won't let you fall.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He holds you close as you shiver, the cold pulsing out of your body and warmth settling deep inside. Your brain is a bit fuzzy, your eyes a little unfocused. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you away so he can look at you from a better angle. The sounds and sights of your orgasm will linger on the ceiling of his brain like a light that's always on.

You just came on his lap. You've never even kissed him, and the mere feel of his body ground you into a fine golden powder. “I meant it,” you tell him, combing his tousled hair away from his eyes. “I want all of you.”

“You’ve got me,” he says, and he means it. You’ve both tangled a hundred lines into one another; the mess you've both made is unrecognisable. A Gordian knot. But this is real, and it's clear. This is true and present and whatever happens next is inconsequential compared to the peace he feels when he has his hands on your body.

There are no muddied waters when he looks into your eyes.

“When's the last time you ate?” he asks.

An answering rumble in your stomach makes him chuckle. You giggle, still somewhat high from your orgasm. “Today. Yesterday. What time is it?”

He squeezes your thighs and gestures with his chin toward your side of the table. “Eat.”

“But…” Your eyes drop to the space between you, where his cock visibly strains against his sweatpants. You take your lip between your teeth. “You're hard.”

“Yeah, I am. You’re a sexy fuckin’ woman who just used me to get off.” His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I’m old, baby. I can be patient.”

You pout, but he pats your ass and lifts you off him. Your legs tremble as you lower onto your chair. It’s a plain dinner, and it’s not steaming hot anymore, but at least he can cook. And it tastes so much better after an orgasm. After the hellish night you've had. Joel watches you while you eat, and you watch him, too.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says, breaking the silence. “And I’ll call the tower in the morning.” You swallow a piece of broccoli. Joel points his fork at you. “And don’t argue.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” He’s right. “You’ve got enough to worry about.”

You look at him awhile. His cheeks feel warm under your scrutiny, the way you openly admire his face, his body, his hands. “I think you're my hero, Joel Miller.”

Jesus, if that doesn’t make his chest puff up a bit. “That so?”

You take a sip of his lukewarm coffee. “Will you let me show you?”

Under the table, your foot trails up his ankle. Joel breathes in hard. As much as he wants to bend you over the fucking table and pound you senseless, you need to rest. And he needs to make sure you get safely home, where your father will never hold suspicion of the things Joel has done to his daughter. He’ll fashion a story that's close to the truth. He gave you his clothes and drove you home, and he did not let you grind on his cock until you came on top of him.

“I won't tell him,” you say softly. “I won’t.”

Joel senses your unease, your hesitation. “I know, baby. I trust you.”

The smile creeps up your face and fills his ribcage with warm light until it's seeping through the bones. “I know what I’m going to give you for your birthday.”

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